the Antidote of Time

“Riddle”, exclaimed Dippet. “As fast as always I see.”

The tapping of shoes echoed inside the room as Riddle made his way over to them. “Of course, headmaster. I wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

Harry could just hear the irony of that. ‘I wouldn’t be here otherwise.’ Would be better for everyone, really.

Dippet clapped his hands, “Indeed, your discipline is exceptional. As such I expect you to help the new student on his way around the school.”

Harry rolled his eyes. Yes, he’ll be helping me get around Hogwarts for sure -why not just skip straight to dark arts? Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Dumbledore staring at Riddle.

“I will do so. Who may this new student be?”, asked Riddle.

Harry turned his head towards Riddle, “Me.”

Seeing the boy in person only messed with him even more. He said he wanted to change him, but confronted by the mini version of Voldemort, he couldn’t help the tightening of his features and stomach.

He recognized the soft wavy hair, handsome features, tall built and the faked charming smile.

 Riddle didn't let his gaze waver as he extended a hand, “Nice to meet you, my name is Tom Marvolo Riddle, Slytherin prefect.”

Harry eyed the hand but did not offer his own. On no occasion would he willingly shake the hand of soon-to-be-Voldemort.

Sending him a smile of his own, which had probably turned more out to be a grimace, he replied, “Harry Lillien Evans.”

If one had been charmed by Riddle’s enthralling they might have missed the twitch of his brows and hand. After realizing he wouldn’t receive a hand, he quickly retracted his own.

Dumbledore, noticing the silent tension, cleared his throat and informed, “Well, better get going soon. Dinner will start in half an hour.”

Riddle nodded and turned back towards Dippet, “We will leave then.”

Dippet nodded. “Yes, you should. Mr. Evans,” Harry’s head snapped to the headmaster, noticing that he had been staring at Riddle. “As you can recall, you may eat in the dormitories tonight.”

Harry nodded. “Well, then,” spoke Riddle catching his attention again. “Follow me, Evans.”

You wish. He didn’t say anything as he stood up and followed Riddle out of the room after bidding both Dumbledore and Dippet goodbye. As the got onto the moving staircase, Riddle turned to him, “Evans? That is not really a pureblood name, is it?”

Harry did not answer, did not so much as turn his head or blink. This seemed to irritate the other. “You know that it would be polite to answer one’s question nonetheless facing the other.”

Harry raised one eyebrow and slightly angled his face towards Riddle, to see a tense smile having formed on his otherwise mesmerising features. Weren’t he such a psychopath and manic, Riddle would have surely conquered thousands of hearts; he probably did anyway, but Harry really wished he rather didn’t. He knew how to use his looks, shape his words, conceal his intentions and cover up a lie.

“Oh, that was supposed to be a question? I thought it was just a fact. Plainly obvious if you ask me.”

Riddle’s hand twitched and he linked them behind his back. “You aren’t very polite, you know?”

“Really,” said Harry, feigning surprise. “I thought it only the truth. After all, I wasn’t the one to ask for my blood status as a conversation starter. How about yours? What are you? A pureblood? Half-blood? Mudblood?”

Hating himself for using that word, he had to admit, it did prove to be effective. The other's smile faded replaced by a stern look.

“You might want to change that attitude of yours, if you are to stay in Slytherin,” suggested Riddle. But Merlin knows it wasn’t a suggestion.

Rolling his eyes Harry turned away from Riddle again. This conversation was taking every ounce of self-control he had. It would be so easy to just stop Riddle, right now and here. A simple curse, even an exposure of secrets. But he did none of that.

Harry would ensure to change fate. Even if it took his life to do so. But didn’t it always? Everything Voldemort has done to the people close to him, was related to him. He would always be one of the many reasons for Voldemort’s choices, actions and failures or successes.

“What year are you in?”, asked Riddle.

Harry took a ragged breath before pushing out a pressed, “Sixth.”

Glancing at Riddle, he almost missed the way the man appeared very delighted. His eyebrows raising slightly, his features tensing and a forced smile forming on his lips. And Harry would lie if he didn’t admit that it very much pleased him to get under Riddles’ skin.

As they descended down the stairs and down the corridors and made their way into the dungeons, Riddle had offered his or other housemate’s help for navigating through Hogwarts, which Harry decently thanked him for (it was rather a stiff nod but Riddle had surely taken notice of it).

Just as they were almost at the Slytherin-entrance Ornella hissed, “It has grown cold, Harry. Where are we?”

He felt her start to slither down his forearm and let her head poke out of the sleeve. Riddle had stopped moving, causing Harry to almost run into him, as the taller stared down at the snake now revealing black scales and beady eyes. Glaring at the man, he held the comment back that was about to spill of his tongue.

“And what is your name?”, asked a bemused Riddle, glancing up at Harry. But furrowed his eyebrows when Harry did not seem to react to his ability.

What was he supposed to do? Start getting flustered, impressed, scared? To at least sound a bit surprised or interested he asked, “You’re a parselmouth?” Though it came out rather flat.

“Another speaker? What a nice coincidence. I am Ornella.”, came a excited hiss.

“What a beautiful name, for a beautiful snake,” complimented Riddle as he was about to stroke a finger down the middle of her head.

Harry hastily pulled his arm away and held Ornella close to his chest. The warmth apparently much to her liking because she settled back into the sleeve and positioned her body further into his chest.

Riddle straightened back up and told him with an impressive amount of pride, “Yes, I am a parselmouth. A direct descended from Salazar Slytherin, to be exact.”

Harry nodded his head mildly impressed and flatly replied, “Wow. Impressive.”

Apparently having hurt his ego, Riddle clenched his jaw and started walking again, this time a lot faster. Harry could just feel the other’s irritation, which caused a great sense of delight to tickle underneath his skin. He started following Riddle again until they stopped in front of the high stone wall, he already knew as the entrance to the Slytherin common room.

Riddle did not turn to him as he explained, “Although, it doesn’t look like it, this is the entrance to our house’s common room. Each fortnight we receive a password with which the entrance open such as it is now. I will be saying the password shortly, I advise you to remember it so you may enter this week. Otherwise you will need to ask another Slytherin or our head of house, who is Professor Slughorn. You will meet him tomorrow.”

Harry hummed and preened in the way that throughout the explanation Riddle had remained tense and dismissive, not even meeting his eye. Funny, how easy it is to annoy a future dark lord.

“Listen closely now, Evans,” reminded the taller man. How was he still taller than him? He had grown quite a lot over the years. Probably one of the reasons why Voldemort is as tall as he is, that man -he wasn’t even sure to call him a man anymore- was huge. “Moonskin.”

Amazed, that the password wasn’t anything snake related, Harry followed Riddle into the common room without protest. Ashe looked around he noticed that not much has changed, compared to his time. The room was long and characterized by the rough stone walls and ceiling. The lamps hanging from the ceiling tainted the room in a green light, only emphasized by the green fire burning in the fireplace. The green leather sofas, were accompanied by dark wood cupboards and skulls

In the chairs around the fire, sat many silhouettes; reading, talking or relaxing. Some heads turned towards them as they entered the room before they leaned over  to another person and whispered something, making them turn their head as well. Soon almost everyone was staring at them causing Harry to straighten his back, all too used to the attention. Riddle didn't change all that much. His posture still as perfect as ever, only schooling his expression.

“As I’ve already mentioned, this is the Slytherin common room.”, walking to the centre of the room, Riddle slightly gestured his hand at the many students, who were still watching them. “You will probably almost find a student here, who you may ask if you are in need of help.”

They walked towards two doors, Riddle stopped before them and turned around, “These doors lead to the dormitories. The one on the left being the girls one, the one on the right the boys’.”

Great, let’s just hope he never forget about that. He could already picture himself entering the girls’ dormitory, just because he was used to the left side leading to the boy’s one. But there was no time to dwell on his misery as the head-boy started moving again, leading them up the spiralling staircase behind the door.

As they descended into a corridor with seven doors, Riddle stalked towards the door before the last ―Merlin needed to have blessed him with those long legs, leaving Harry hurrying behind; looking less graceful than the other― while explaining, “You will sleep in this room along with others in your year, me including.”

They entered the dormitory and Harry acknowledged the similarity between the Slytherin’s and Gryffindor’s dormitories. There were windows lining the wall, although those placed much higher on the wall than the ones in Gryffindor. The four-poster beds were now covered in green sheets, though they seemed just as comfortable as the ones back in the Gryffindor dormitory.

“It appears your trunk has already been delivered,” remarked Riddle as he gestured towards the bed on the furthest left, the closest to the door. Good positioning, thought Harry while he already planned some routes; possibly used for an escape.

Acting clueless Harry asked, “This is my bed then?”

Riddle nodded, “Yes, it is yours. Every student is assigned their own bed.”

Harry hummed and walked towards his bed and crouched down in front of his trunk, running his fingers over the wooden material. He heard the other continuing, but did not turn around, “I will leave you now. If you have further question, don’t mind asking other housemates. They will gladly assist since one of our top priorities are interhouse relations.”

Hearing footsteps retreating and the opening of a door, he assumed Riddle to be out of the door in an instant, instead Riddle asked, “Will you be eating in the common room tonight or come along to the Great Hall?”

“I will stay here for tonight,” answered Harry, opening his trunk and waiting for Riddle to leave.

“Very well,” was the last thing he heard before the door was closed and Harry was left alone.

Finally, being left alone, Harry let out a long sigh. Ornella apparently deciding it was time to stop hiding, moved to the back of his hand, half of her body still obscured by the fabric; savouring the warmth. “What is it, my Harry?”

Harry raised an eyebrow and stared into the beady black eyes, “Your Harry?”

She hissed, rubbing her scales against his hand and flicking her tongue, “Of course. My Harry. You have chosen me and I you.”

Huffing he went back to searching the trunk of the shrunken tank. “What are you looking for?”

His hand slipped through the fabrics, quills and quills as he answered, “Your tank. ”

He felt her stir against his hand and slightly curling back under the sleeve. “What for, my Harry?”

He paused his movements, “You will need a place to stay in during classes.”

“I can just join you,” she hissed softly and flicked her tongue against his skin before lightly bumping her head. “I will assist you and help you. I will stay quiet and hidden.”

He raised his hand and stroked down the middle of her scales, unsure at first but after earning a content hissed, continued steadily, “I can tell that you don’t like crowds, Ornella. Why would you want to come with me?”

“To stay with you. To protect you,” she confessed. “Haven’t I already told you? I will grow and become stronger, so it will be easier.”

Harry hummed and leaned back. “So you have said. Isn’t it too cold for you?”

She bumped her head against the finger that had stopped stroking her head. “You are warm. I like that. And I am sure you can use your magic to make me warmer, can’t you?”

He stood up and lay down on his bed, his feet dangling over the edge. “I can yes. Do you really want to stay with me?”

“I will; always.”

In the evening, when everyone walked off to dinner, he asked a house-elf to bring him some food as well as a rat for Ornella, who later on complained about the rat not being alive. After they had eaten and the elf had collected his dishes but before it could turn away, Harry had asked for some treacle tart the next time, they would bring him some food.

The elf had afterwards started panicking and apologizing for displeasing him, Harry though tried to calm it and told it, he was not displeased and that it was just a thing he had forgotten to ask for. Later, after many apologies and Ornella's hissing slowly increasing out of annoyance, causing the creature to become even more cared, it went fled back to the kitchen.

With a sigh, he got ready for bed and settled into the bed, head on his crossed hand as most people started returning from dinner; Ornella resting on his chest, barely moving and a deformed area along her body, indicating that she had ate.

He thought about his friends, Dumbledore, professor McGonagall, Snape even. Replaying the scene of Dumbledore being killed and himself unable to do anything about it. Why had Dumbledore stopped him? He could have just disarmed Draco; he was powerful enough to do so. He did not even try to fight back.

A sour feeling settled on his tongue and his stomach lurched at that. He knew Dumbledore probably had a reason to do so. But had he truly hoped that Draco would just yield? He scrunched his eyebrows, and rearranged himself, so that he could stroke down Ornella’s head after a hiss of discontentment.

He sighed. Dumbledore surely would not be naïve enough to believe that, would he? But Harry wasn’t so sure anymore. Dumbledore has made many mistakes in the past, which had also included his hope in the greatness of one’s person.

The door was opened and three figures stepped into the room. “Did you see the new kid, with Riddle?,” came a mocking voice from the blond one. And Harry would bet his magic that that boy was a Malfoy.

Another blond, though his hair more ashen, answered, “Riddle seemed totally pissed off. What do you think he did?”

“Please, Avery. We all know that one can only irritate Riddle like that if you comment on his blood status,” the black-haired one answered.

“Not our fault, he was a mudblood,” came Avery’s reply. “Though I wonder why he ‘asked’ to welcome him as nicely as possible.”

The black-haired boy snorted, “Probably a troublemaker.” He approached his trunk, apparently the one next to Harry’s, when he noticed him lying in his bed, with Ornella.

Well, this was awkward. But to say Harry was bemused, was totally on point. He had not thought of people actually talking behind the soon-to-be dark lord’s back; nonetheless calling him a mudblood. “Hello,” cut Harry through the silence.

Avery eyed his form; the loose white shirt, lower half covered by the blanket. His eyes remained on Ornella for a few more seconds before meeting his eyes, “You must be the new addition. I’m Albert Augustus Avery.”

Nodding at him Harry introduced, “Harry Lillien Evans.”

Malfoy raised one eyebrow, crossing his arms and huffing, “A mudblood then?”

Harry wanted to roll his eyes at the dismissive tone, “Got a problem with that?”

The dark-haired boy interrupted Malfoys attempt to speak, “Elijah Riker Lestrange. It isn’t the best way to start out with our blood status, is it?”

Harry almost rolled his eyes at the attempted blandishment. They had just talked about their orders to ‘befriend him’ and here they were, making it suspiciously obvious that they were faking it.

As if those purebloods cared about anything other than the blood status and influence or power. So, he mockingly commented, “Really isn’t a great starter, no.” Turning towards the blond he asked, “You must be a Malfoy?”

Raising his eyebrows, he answered, “Yes, Abraxas Cassius Malfoy. But you may address me as heir Malfoy.”

Stroking down Ornella’s scales, Harry barely contained a snort. Such formalities. “All right then, heir Malfoy.”

And somehow the way he had pronounced heir’ sounded quite irreverent, irking the pureblood further. The sneer not being hidden anymore. Lestrange, although visibly displeased as well tried to converse with him again. “I didn’t know we were allowed to have snakes as pets. Nonetheless, let them into Hogwarts.”

“You could say that I was allowed because of… certain circumstances,” glancing down at Ornella, he noted the bulge being visibly smaller than before. A soft hissing coming from her.

“And those would be?” Avery assessed him, while settling onto his own bed next to him. At least he wasn’t right next to Riddle.

Harry shrugged and leaned back against his pillow, closing his eyes. Malfoy had already started turning to his bed, opposite of his, and started collecting his night robes. “As long as you don’t bring any shame on house, we should not be having a problem,” explained Lestrange, not even facing him.

Sure. As if Harry was going to believe that. He had met many purebloods, so far, having seen the memories and knowing the regime of Voldemort; he was certainly not buying their act. He shifted to draw the curtain shut but Ornella hissed at him irritated, “Stop moving so much.”

He was very sure, that could have been interpreted as grumbling. But he wasn’t going to comment on it, not knowing how sensitive the snake would be while digesting; instead, he moved to lay on his back and was tempted to wave his hand, to close the curtains.

He had done wandless magic on several occasions, though it had always required a strong emotion to be performed. The time Dudley and he had been attacked by Dementors, and he had cast a Lumos was as clear as the day it had happened.

At that moment he hadn’t thought about his usage of wandless magic, only wanting to fend off the dementors; but now, having enough time to actually think about it. He wondered if he would be able to do it again. He had seen Dumbledore and Voldemort perform wandless magic, non-verbal as well.

Would he have time to practice wandless magic? He did not need to care about anyone asking him for favours or expecting anything different since he wasn’t the boy who lived here anymore. He would have to visit the library anyway, he could just look for a guidance to wandless magic when he was there.

Ornella suddenly moved on his chest, starting to shift a bit, taking that as his chance, he steadied her with one hand and with the other shut his curtain; glancing at the other boys for a final time.

Riddle still hasn’t returned and while Malfoy had already changed and curled his hair, so that was why he had such wavy hair, Avery and Lestrange were still on their beds, fully dressed. Lestrange was petting a dark brown cat as he wrote a letter. Avery had been reading through some parchments, probably notes of classes which he would cover tomorrow.

As the curtain was closed, he caught Malfoy’s eyes for one last time, seeing a burning resentment in those silver-blue eyes. He caught himself grinning; annoying a Malfoy would always be one of his favourite activities. But really, who could blame him? That family was as easily irritated as a man of a mosquito.

Before lying back down on the soft bed, he had taken off his glasses and deposited them on the nightstand, turning of the lamp. His wand was safely tucked under his pillow after charming the spot where Ornella lay with a heating charm and casting a silencing charm around his bed.

Staring up at the ceiling he softly hissed, “Goodnight, Ornella.”

Hissing calmingly, she stirred on his chest flicking her tongue against his chin, “Goodnight, my Harry. I will watch over you.”

Harry deeply doubted that but understood the sentiment, creating a warming in his chest as well as a tingling in his stomach. “I’m sure you will.”

He had only ever received affectionate words like this from either Ron, Hermoine, or Ginny.

Oh, Ginny. He had totally forgot her, when deciding to stay in the past to change the future. His chest clenched uncomfortable; would he even see her again? His lips tingled as he thought about their kiss. He hoped so. He would see her again. He would make sure of that. After all, he couldn’t just leave his girlfriend without any sign or explanation. Just disappearing.

Closing his eyes, he realized how much of a jerk he must be, just having left her like that. She was so strong and kind, beautiful and smart -and probably understood the best as to how dangerous Voldemort and his younger self are. Having been possessed by him, she would probably try to stop him as well.

Running a finger down his bottom lip, rubbing it slightly sore, he confirmed, that yes, he would stop Riddle. Stop him from creating Horcruxes, which would also lead to Ginny’s protection in her first year. She would have a normal school year without being possessed by Riddle.

Riddle had always been quite convincing, hadn’t he? He noticed so when they were in the headmaster’s office as well. His charming, though fake personality being alluring and tempting; just being supported by his handsome features.

Harry huffed and turned his head, pressing his cheek into the pillow beneath him. Why were Villains always so charming? Was it a strategy to be surprising when they showed their true colours? Was it supposed to be alluring?

He had always asked himself those questions when he had read or listened in as Petunia would read out some fairytale the Dursleys had at their house. The Villains were always described as mesmerizingly handsome, beautiful or manipulative, after hiding behind a mask.

He would make sure to stop Riddle, like the hero would defeat the villain in every story. Yes, he would defeat Voldemort; defeat Voldemort and change Riddle. Harry would save him, would prevent him from tainting the wizarding world. 

He has had the desire to kill, to hunt, to hurt; many times, before. As Bellatrix had pushed Sirius through the veil, he couldn't stop thinking about harming her. As Peter was revealed to be the one to have betrayed his parents, he could do no less than wish for Peter to be the one dead instead of them, tempted to be the one to kill him. He had thought about killing Voldemort, he had killed him; a horcrux of him, but him, nonetheless. 

He had used the pensive, seen memories of Tom Riddle, saw him murdering, stealing, manipulating. He had seen and he had felt. He had asked himself why one would do so? How an orphan could take the lives of a family, of his own family. 

Wouldn't he want a better life for others? Better than his own? Why take another's family, the one thing that caused your own misery, and let them experience the same. Why had he come after his mother and father? All because of a prophecy? Had he truly believed that, if he were the powerful individual he was described as, he could be stopped, by a mere child?

He shut his eyes tighter, trying to keep his thoughts down. He had far too much free time. The fact that he could think about his past actions and experiences and feelings, proofed so. This whole thought process was starting to give him a headache.

He let his fingertips graze the smooth, black scales. Shifting against his chest, a soft hissing sounded from the snake. It was soothing and slowly let him drift off to sleep, letting him focus on the sound instead of his thoughts.

He woke up to the sound of rustling fabric and hushed voices. Opening his eyes to a soft green light encasing the shut off area, his sleep impaired brain, not processing his situation, let him sit up causing Ornella to –not so gracefully- slide off his chest.

"Sorry," he hissed apologetically as Ornella slithered off him grumbling something under hissy breaths. 

Reaching for his glasses, he let the blanket fall from his body, letting the cold air hit his still sensitive skin. Goosebumps forming on his skin, he adjusted his rumpled clothes, after putting his glasses on.

As he stood up and was about to open the curtains, Ornella from her curled up position hissed, "Don't forget to get me before you go."

Rolling his eyes he answered, "Sure."

Opening the curtains, he came to face with four people all in various states.

Abraxas Malfoy, 'heir of the Malfoy's', mocked Harry in his head, was sitting on his bed, in front of him a floating mirror. He adjusted his hair, brushing it out, curling around a finger and spelling it. 

Avery was adjusting his white shirt, the dark blue sweater and cloak lay on the bed, spread out as to gain no wrinkles. 

Lestrange was already fully dressed and lounging on the bed, reading a book. His black hair curling slightly on the ends.

Riddle, Merlin, as perfect as always, robes clean and hugging his body, hair set, posture straight; was standing beside the door, hands behind his bed.  Noticing the piercing gaze, he turned to meet his eyes. The taller smiled, seemingly having regained his dignity, “Finally up, yes? Good, we planned to take you to breakfast, this morning.”

Harry could have laughed if someone else were to say the words, ‘take you to breakfast’, may as well have been a date. But definitely not with or from little-Voldemort.

Rolling his eyes, he turned towards his trunk, bending down and taking out his robes. As he put them on, he felt a burning weight on his back, the gaze of the too familiar boy uncomfortable. Just as he was finished slipping his cloak on, Riddle commented, “You have many scars.”

Huffing Harry turned to the bed, storing his wand and laying a hand down, for Ornella to climb on. “Thank you, my Harry,” she hissed as she began slithering beneath his sleeve and curling around his forearm.  Harry hummed and stroked the fabric above her scales.

“Where did you get them?” The voice broke through his relaxed state. A weight settled in his heart, his hands tingling, itching to hit the owner of the voice. Oh, how much he wanted to say, ‘You.’ But he refrained himself, clenching them into fists. Taking a deep breath, he answered, “Nowhere.”

He knew Riddle wanted to press on; but he also knew that Riddle read one’s body way too well to know when to stop. If he were a person who would stop at these signs, that is. “Doesn’t look like it. Rather like battle scars.”

Still stroking the fabric above Ornella, he heard her hissing, “Calm down, my Harry. I will bite him if he hurts you.”

Riddle glanced down at the sleeve where Ornella hid, by now all the other boys had started listening in on them, though they tried to cover it up by continuing their activities. Squaring his shoulders, Riddle hissed, “Will you?”

Harry felt her stir beneath his sleeve, slithering out and poking her head out, "You; speaker?"

Riddle hummed and walked over to Harry, who tensed as he felt his form approaching. He did not turn around, still facing his bed. Riddle however had no idea -or perhaps he knew just how much- he was getting on his nerve, stopping just behind him and then saying, “Could you turn around, Evans? I would like to admire Ornella."

‘Haven’t you done enough of that in the corridor last night?’

Rolling his eyes, he reluctantly turned around when he felt Ornella flicking his tongue at his knuckles. Riddle looked extremely pleased at this and bent down to pet the snake's head, "Good to see you again. I haven't introduced myself, have I? My name is Tom Marvolo Riddle, a descendent of Salazar Slytherin."

Ornella bumped her nose against the other's fingertips, much to Harry’s dismay. She took a moment to answer, "Should I know a Salzar Slytherin? I have never met him."

Harry couldn't help the snort at seeing Riddle’s face scrunched up, the answer obviously displeasing him. The taller glanced up at him, the frown still present on his face.

Not being able to hold himself back any longer, he taunted, "What? Has my snake insulted you as well?" He prided himself on seeing Riddle’s face close off.

The other looked back down at Ornella and hissed tone slightly stressed, "Tighten your body around his arm and scare him."

Harry could hardly stop himself from huffing. Was Riddle seriously trying to scare him –with his own pet? This would have probably worked, if said snake wasn’t quite fond of protecting him. Ornella's black eyes pierced into Riddle’s brown ones. Flicking her tongue lazily she asked, "Why?"

On Riddle’s lips formed a small, almost sweet smile, "To teach him a lesson, he has upset me."

Harry could feel Ornella slightly loosening her wrapped body. She lowered her body down onto the back of his hand, resting. "I don't want to do that."

Riddle furrowed his eyes and straightened back up. A tremble in his hiss indicating the controlled temper, "You will do it."

She slowly raised her head again, body tensing, opening her mouth and showing off her fangs. The hissing she produced being frightening. Lestrange, Avery and Malfoy exchanged glances, being unsure of what to do.

Riddle narrowed is eyes but took a step back, “Very well. However, I warn you, if you dare try and poison me the next time, I will kill you.”

Harry clenched his jaw. How dare Riddle threaten his snake. First, he tried to use Ornella against him and now he threatened her. What did he expect? Her to just submit to him? Harry wanted to lash out at him, already being ticked off by his earlier attempt to push him to reveal the cause of his scars. What did he mean by poison him anyway? It wasn’t like she was venomous, was she?

He let out a shaky breath, the anger sizzling beneath his skin; making his blood feel hot, his ears burning and hands trembling. His teeth were starting to hurt by how hard he clenched them shut.

Stroking a hand down her body, he tried to imitate a calming gesture, though he didn’t know whether it was for her or himself. It seemed to work however since Ornella reluctantly settled back onto his hand, the hissing reduced but it had not truly faltered.

“I think,” he said after a long deafening silence. “It is time for us to go.”

Harry did not wait for an answer, already stalking out the room, down the staircase and out the corridor. He didn’t notice the looks some of the Slytherin’s were giving him, mostly of disdain. He rushed down halls, his rage clouding his mind. The students he bumped into complained but he did not even turn around to apologize.

It wasn’t long before he found himself before the Great Hall. His breathing ragged, messy hair even messier. Finally, having stopped, he noticed Ornella hissing soothing words, to which he couldn’t help but smile and caressing the fabric over her body.

After a few moments of standing beside the giant door to the Great Hall, he noticed just how rough he looked, having run all the way. Smoothing out his clothes and skimming a hand through his hair, he decided that it probably wouldn’t get any better than that.

With one last stroke to Ornella, he took a deep breath before entering the Hall, reminding himself to head towards the Slytherin-table instead of the Gryffindor, with a short, longing glance.

Walking up to the Slytherin table, he chose a seat facing away from the other tables. He feared that if he were to sit the other way around, he would just stare at the red coloured one.

Deciding to see if he recognized anyone else, he looked up the table, where the seventh years sat. He saw a strict looking woman with a few other year mates. Her hair held tightly into a bun, which could have fooled to be straight hair, weren't it for the few hairs curling down her cheek.

And Harry could swear that he recognised her. Sharp features. Straight posture. Her face, although still holding soft aspects, the muscles have tightened.

Staring at her for quite some time, he finally recognized her, Walburga Black. The woman from the painting back in Grimmauld place had looked older, more worn out.

Letting his gaze fall back to his own plate, he took in the food in front of him, already knowing, that he was going to make himself a toast.

As he served himself his thoughts back to the Gryffindor-table. The giant form of Rubeus Hagrid already missing when he had walked into the hall. Right, that had probably happened last year, if Riddle was in his sixth, that meant ―he had already created Horcruxes.

Dumbledore had made it clear to him, that Horcruxes were one of the first things to destroy, if one wants to stop Voldemort. So, he’ll just have to find the diary and prevent Riddle from creating any more Horcruxes. If only it would be that easy, Harry mentally noted.

He had no idea where the Horcrux was nor how he could convince Riddle to change his mind. This would be loads of fun.

As he began eating, he noticed that another group of Slytherins had arrived and, oh ―what great surprise, it was Riddle and his clique. Rolling his eyes, he continued eating his toast and tried to ignore, how they were slowly approaching him.

However, as Riddle sat down in front of him, he quickly lost his appetite and tried to make an escape but was held back as Lestrange and Avery sat down beside him, their movements holding a sense of reluctance.

Hesitantly Avery started, “Good to see that you have found your way here.”

“Wasn’t that hard,” Harry mumbled under his breath, taking another bite of his toast.

Riddle chose this as his time to make himself known, “Really? Most people, some of our year even, get lost in the castle. How come you know just where to go?”

Glaring at Riddle, he saw the man smiling. “Unlike you,” he said with a mouthful chew, earning a disgusted sound from Malfoy. “I ask people for help.”

“I’m surprised someone helped you,” he hummed as though in thought. “Most people don’t take kind to our house.”

I wonder why. Fastly finishing his toast, he was about to get up when he heard Slughorn’s voice behind him, “Mr. Evans?”

He turned and faced the man with a smile, glad to have an excuse to stop talking to the others. "Hello, sir.”

“Yes, Harry Evans, correct?” The man seemed excited, his straw-blond hair and slightly ginger-beard still as unused to look at as it had been in the memory. He nodded. “Yes, yes. I have your schedule for your classes, right here.”

“Thank you, sir.”, he answered, taking the offered sheet.

Probably noticing that he had failed to introduce himself, he assessed, “I am Horace Slughorn, head of Slytherin and therefor the person you may address, whenever you have a problem; although,” he eyed the little group, gaze lingering on Riddle. “I fear that won’t be a problem but just to be sure, right?”

Harry forced a smile, “Of course, sir.”

Slughorn nodded, taking the other Slytherins into account, “I do hope you get along well, Mr. Evans. You know, we value maintaining inter-household relationships.”

Before he could reply, Riddle cut in, “Of course, professor, we will make sure of that.”

Slughorn nodded, slightly dazed and mumbled, “Good, good.” He turned and walked off.

Harry’s gaze lingered on Slughorn’s retreating form before turning back around still holding his schedule. “Well,” caught Avery his attention, their eyes still not meeting. “What did you choose?”

Harry sighed, he did not want to include them in his plans, even if they were only about his classes. Unfortunately, he had no choice but to hold out his paper to Lestrange’s awaiting hand. He glanced over at Riddle, who had his fingers crossed, resting his chin on them. Taking in this position, whilst Lestrange analysed his schedule, he noticed the black ring resting on Riddle’s fingers. His stomach suddenly heavy and face blanching.

He had already created the ring. That makes it two, then… Did he create it before or after the diary? Clenching his teeth, he hesitantly removed his gaze from the jewellery, missing the way Riddle’s eyes glinted.

"You have advanced potions, transfiguration and DADA? Man, you surely like to fight," commented Lestrange and passed the sheet to Avery.

Sure do. Harry rolled his eyes, looking for a treacle tart. Hoping the elf had remembered his request. He had to admit that he had always had a knack for sweets. Living with the Dursleys, he never truly got a taste of them, Dudley always taking them away or having been given some.

The time on the train was the first time he had ever tasted more than left over cake. At first the flavour had been overwhelming and weird, however as he had taken his time to get used to it, the many sweets have been addicting. The treacle tarts at Hogwarts were the one thing that he could never get enough of.

He had, the first time on the train, bought too much candy causing him to feel sick in the evening. Treacle tarts were nought but the only candy, he could never get enough of.

Just having pushed away his plate, another appeared in in its’s place, on it being the tart. Harry beamed and felt his mouth water. He picked up a fork and was about to take a bite when he heard Malfoy comment, "Something that sweet this early in the morning? Truly no manners."

Before Riddle could speak up, he retorted, "Apparently, I don’t need them to have you talk to me.”

Malfoy glowered and turned away. Lestrange and Avery exchanged a glance before Avery said, "Quite a mouth you got there."

Harry almost replied, 'Want to see what else it can do?' But thankfully stopped himself from embarrassing him further.

Instead, he took the fork into his mouth, savouring the taste of the treacle tart. The sweet, mild bitterness making his shoulders slump from relaxation. 

He was broken out of his heaven, when Riddle spoke up, " What are your classes for today?"

Harry shrugged and let Avery read out his schedule, "First advanced potions, history of magic and advanced Defence against the dark arts."

Riddle hummed and let his hand, the one on which the Gaunt ring was being worn, drop onto the table and drummed his fingers.

Taking another bite of the tart, he could do no less than watch as his schedule was being passed amongst the people, who would be the cause of not only his but other people's misery as well. “We all have the same classes for today then,” Riddle noted, satisfaction clear on his face. Harry on the other hand, tried not grimace at that, refocusing on the taste of the tart, after getting hold of his schedule again.

Lestrange was visibly glum, however, when Riddle’s eyes shortly found his, he asked Harry, “How about we accompany you on your way to classes?”

Harry, having finished the treacle tard, stood up and smiled down at Lestrange, “I’d rather not. I’ll find my way, no worries.”

“It would only be kind for us, as your housemates, to help you around,” pushed Riddle. “At least let one of us, accompany you.”

Harry took his time to evaluate his next answer. He would rather not be stalked, no one knew how Riddle got his information. He did not want to be in any soon-to-be death eater’s presence. This whole breakfast had worked him up more, than Hermoine and Ron fighting. He considered each person sitting before him.

Riddle was a total no-go. This man would use his handsome face to try and charm him ―and, oh, how much this meal had proved to charm him.

Malfoy, he shared the same dislike to as Draco, so that was another no. Avery and Lestrange were probably the only few of which he might be willing to spend time with.

Lestrange, proved to be another of Riddle’s watchdogs, but tried not to show it. His dislike however was a tad too obvious to spend the whole way to class with him. So, Avery it was.

He met the other’s awaiting and annoyed (God bless Malfoy’s heart) gazes and said, “Avery, I’m sure you’d be delightful company.”

Avery, although a bit unsure, nodded and stood up as Harry turned to leave. They left the hall quickly; the blond having caught up to him and walked beside him.

As they began descending down corridor after corridor, Avery asked, "Why did you choose me?"

Harry glanced at him but kept his head straight. "You're the one, who I can tolerate the most," he explained, gaining a raised eyebrow. "And you are the one to express your dislike towards Riddle the most."

Avery did not comment that. Probably because he feared that if he told the truth, Harry would just stalk away –which, to be honest, would have probably happened.

They turned around a corner, their footsteps being one of the only things echoing through the halls. There were occasionally some students, they passed, their chatter loud and cheerful, however most people still sat in the Great Hall eating breakfast.

"Why haven't you been enrolled in first year?"

Harry remained silent. "Everyone gets a letter on their 11th birthday," explained Avery. "Why did you not come to Hogwarts before now?"

Shrugging, Harry walked down the stairs, into the dungeons, skipping a disappearing step. Avery observed him as he did so, calculating eyes boring into his back. "Never got one."

"How peculiar," assessed Avery slowly. "A mudblood like you, couldn't have any connection to the wizarding world before Hogwarts; you, however, seem to know your way around here just fine..."

Harry huffed and stopped in front of the door which led to the potions classroom. "Look," pressed Harry out. "It's instinct I guess ‐and besides, I chose you because I thought you'd leave me alone."

Avery’s grey eyes moved over his tense form, before sighing, "Yes, I suppose so. However, Riddle has no intention of letting anyone's secret be kept hidden. I don't even know how he does it at times. But do know that because of your... situation, many people won't take kind on you."

Harry raised an eyebrow. He had expected all of the former purebloods to be extremists when it came to blood purity, however that- "Most people have held back because you were in the presence of a teacher or because Riddle has ordered to get on your good side. However, if one of these circumstances change, so would your treatment here."

And that answered his question, why they treated him like that. He had overheard them last night of course, but he wasn’t able to grasp it at that moment. "Malfoy’s definitely doing a great job at that," trying to lighten the mood. 

Avery looked back up the stairs before saying, "He never does."

Trying not to snort, Harry opened the door and entered the classroom.

The usual sight greeted Harry. The walls lined with the ingredients, the black board and a large desk positioned at the end of the room in front of the spiralling staircase. The cold air hit his face like water, waking him and eliciting a shiver. Avery walked to one of the desks that lined the right side of the room, motioning for Harry to sit beside him.

Having adjusted in his seat, the benches somehow even more uncomfortable, he took out the potions book of this year. The cover still the same as he remembered. He flipped the pages, the content the same too; the only thing missing were the half-blood prince’s notes.

Perhaps he could make use of the book again. No, Ginny and he had gotten rid of it for good. What would he need the book for anyway? To use its recipes? Maybe. But he had thought more about the spells. What if there were more spells than sectumsempra? Spells that could be useful in this time. To not only help him figure out a way back but also help to protect himself from Riddle or others.

Avery and he did not talk to each other until the other's arrived. He noticed that they had potions with Hufflepuffs instead of Gryffindors. After a few students had settled in Riddle arrived along with Malfoy. 

He slightly turned his head as he felt Riddle's gaze on his back. Their eyes met. He tilted his head in question when he saw the slight burn in the brown eyes. Only receiving a smile, he scowled and turned away.

The approaching footsteps seemed to echo throughout the room, like the students around them were watching them, having seized their conversations. Harry turned to Avery, seeing him already watching Riddle and Malfoy. “You wouldn’t mind swapping seats, would you?”, Riddle asked.

Harry furrowed his eyebrows and answered instead of Avery, though he knew only the blond was addressed, “Oh, we don’t. Go ahead.”

He made to stand up, but Riddle stopped him, “No, Evans. Don’t get me wrong, I was only speaking to Avery.”

The other’s eyes roamed over the sitting form of Avery, who was frowning at Riddle. He glanced back at Harry but after a short time he stood up and let Riddle take his place, who smiled at him and said, “Very well, Avery. You may come to see me after dinner.”

With that Riddle turned away from the other, dismissing them, and got out his own textbook, quill and parchment. Harry stayed put in his seat, though a burning anger filled his veins. He huffed and averted his gaze.

He tried to ignore Riddle, always being in his peripheral, focusing instead on the class. Slughorn was his professor here as well. He had a similar style of teaching but his youthful body and mind, made it easier for him to move and engage more enthusiastically.

He admitted that even if his way of teaching was quite different and obtrusive, it captured one’s attention and to be honest, everything was better than having Professor Snape teach the class. Leaving out the fact that he was a death eater, that man was bad at teaching and hated children. Why would one even take the position as a teacher if they had no desire or to do so.

He had no idea which date today was, but he was sure that he had moved back a few months as well. Slughorn had explained the Draught of the Living Death, which had happened in the first few weeks of their course.

He had zoned out a few times before quickly snapping back, when Slughorn suddenly raised his voice or did an impulsive action such as slamming his hand on a desk or stalking up and down the class, taking out a few jars of ingredients and motioning them around.

Riddle raised his hand a few times throughout the lesson. Trying to ignore him, Harry always turned his head a bit more away from him or focused on a jar with ingredients.

Before dismissing them, Slughorn told them to write a three-foot-long essay listing the ingredients of the euphoria inducing potion, their effects, where they can be found, and how the potion is effecting the user, negative and positive aspects.

Harry groaned along with a few Hufflepuffs. Although he still remembered writing this essay in his actual sixth year, and therefore not being as difficult as it was before ―since he could recall a few aspects the professor had asked for― the whole writing process, would be sinewy to actually do.

As he packed his stuff Riddle spoke up next to him, somehow already ready to go. “I could help you with that essay -if you’d like, that is.”

Harry raised his eyebrow and glanced at him, “I can do that myself just fine.”

“You didn’t seem to like the assignment that much, I could help you study,” he tried with another charming smile.

“Yeah… no, I learn better when I’m alone,” he avoided and stood up, swinging the bag over his shoulder.

Riddle’s eyes roved over him for a few seconds before he hummed, “Very well.”

He moved towards Malfoy and Avery, waiting for him to follow, Harry however was already out the door. He’d rather be alone if they gave him the chance to. He moved quickly down the corridor and up the staircases to avoid them catching up. He sighed and took out his schedule, already having forgotten which class he had next, history of magic.

A lesson in which, he wouldn’t be surprised, to actually have someone die out of boredom; at least if Binns were the one who taught. And so he went, already languid from the thought of spending the next hour and a half just listening to the past. He moved down corridors, up some stairs, through a few doors and finally found the classroom, entering it.

Harry wasn’t the first to have arrived, some Ravenclaws already sitting on the old benches. In front of the class floated an all too familiar ghost, causing him to roll his eyes and slump on a bench at the furthest back.

Taking out his History of Magic book, a quill and parchments, he knew he wasn’t going to use. He crossed his arms on the desk and laid his head down. Another lesson with Binns, even in the past; what has he done to deserve this?

He let his eyes fall shut and tried not to dwell on the upcoming lesson.

A tap on his shoulder, made him gaze up, the blond hair was the first thing he noticed, the tall, long limbs the second. Avery.

“Yes?” His voice was muffled by his sleeves and Ornella, slightly moving her body. She truly kept her promise to stay quiet.

The boy glanced to his bag and asked, “Could you move?”

He sighed but lifted his head. Were they really this pushy to try and befriend him? Grabbing his bag, he shifted to the window and let Avery sit down beside him. He felt Avery’s flickering gaze. “Do you plan on staring at me the whole time we’re together?”, grumbled he.

“No,” shot Avery and quickly turned his head as Binns began his lecture on the goblin wars.

He wasn’t that surprised. It was the same stories even 40 years earlier. The same boring lectures. And so, Harry did, what he did best let himself be distracted. Six minutes into the lecture he looked outside and watched as first years mounted their brooms and let the flying instructor correct their postures, stances, holds and some even started flying with the permission of the teacher.

As he saw them start to fly, manoeuvre and doing stunts, his chest ached. And he let his head rest on his balled fist. He heard Onella’s soft hissing, trying to calm him. He sighed and started to flip through his book, looking for the pages on Broom History.

As he was reading up on the first few brooms and how unsteady and unhandy they were, Avery whispered, “So, you like Quidditch?”

Harry did not look up but hummed.

“You any good at it?”

Harry shrugged and mumbled, “I guess.”

Avery let his hand rest beside his book, turning his body towards him; Harry finally let his gaze fall upon the silvery blue eyes. “We have a quidditch-team, you know?”

Harry shrugged and was about to turn away again, when Avery added, “Try-outs are already finished but I think that, if you mention Riddle’s name, you might get in.”

“Riddle?” harry raised an eyebrow, “Why?”

Avery’s eyes caught Riddle’s straight back, ―God, why did he always have to act so perfect; this class seriously couldn’t be this interesting― Harry huffed. The blond slowly said, “Riddle has a reputation -of sorts. It’s always good to be on his best side.”

Trying not to roll his eyes he let his mind drift back to Quidditch. He had always enjoyed it, ever since the first moment he had mounted a broom. It had felt like he belonged there. On the broom; in the air.

He had been amazed, the first time the Gryffindor team had taken him in, when they had played a game. He had loved every second of it, except for the shady plays of the Slytherins. Yes, that had always been their way, hadn’t it?  

Shady and unfair. He glowered at that. Would the Slytherin team of this time be the same? Would they play against the others like that as well? Trying to win, no matter what? He liked the fun, the adrenaline, the win -of course- but he would never try to harm anyone to achieve that, not while playing Quidditch.

But he never met the players of this time, he never knew how they played. Was it worth a try to play Qidditch again, this time with the Slytherins. Perhaps.

If they were the way they had been back in his time, he would not join them. He could try out for a position, but he had no need to stay.

The rest of the class was spent reading the few pages and doodling in his parchment ―the wizarding world really needed new supplies, the ink was quite messy at places or the quill almost broke once he pressed too hard. He was no Potter anymore, he had no access to his money, to buy himself new quills whenever he preferred.

Binns didn’t even notice class had ended until some students began to pack their bags, he dismissed them and sent them off to lunch.

Harry heaved a sigh as he arrived in the Great Hall, Avery having followed him the whole way; this time unable to shake him off. As he sat down in his new seat Slytherin table, he did not try to converse with anyone, staying silent and letting his thoughts stray. At times, Riddle tried to indulge him in a topic, he had no desire to share his opinion on; so, he just shrugged or hummed and continued eating his chicken breasts and pumpkin juice.

His dismissive behaviour apparently pissed Riddle a bit off since he after a few times just stopped asking him any questions and try to keep his focus on Lestrange or Malfoy, who had always talked to him.

Riddle’s eyes however always found his form and sometimes his sleeve, from which a soft hissing emerged.

Harry informed the others that he had a free period after they had asked. Riddle wanted to know where he would go, harry just shrugged and said that he would explore Hogwarts. After they had gone off to class, Harry headed towards the library. He had, of course, his essay to start which Slughorn had given them. But he also wanted to look for books on time magic.

After browsing through a few bookshelves, he had found three books on time magic ―which he was sure, were the only ones― and another for his essay.

He had asked the librarian, if for her permission to bring the books to the dorm, which she had agreed but asked for his name, so she could make sure whether the books would be given back or not. As he walked back towards the Slytherin dorm, he noted that the librarian of this time, although strict, was definitely nicer than Irma Prince, of his time.

Standing before the stone wall, he stated, “Moonskin.”

Entering the common room, Harry saw a few people sitting near the fireplace or on a couch. He walked up to the dormitories and closed the door to his room. He let the bag, glide of his shoulder and land besides his bed. Ornella slithered out of his sleeve and onto the bed as he reached for the books in the bag. She hissed at the sudden coldness and complained, “Do your heating spell, my Harry. It is really cold.”

He huffed a laugh and cast a quick heating charm, though this time not on the bed sheets but rather on the air around them. It was freezing in this room.

Sighing as the warm air wrapped around his body like a blanket, he grabbed the few books on time magic and placed them in his trunk, leaving one on the bed to read for now. “Thank you, my Harry,” commented Ornella as she let him sit on the edge of the bed, with the book in his hands.

Ornella shifted her body, so that she was laying in his lap. He began to read the first few pages of Time a Magic but to his dismay found, the author listing events, that may or may not have been actual incidences. They stated that most information was hidden by the Ministry of Magic.

Just as he was about to start on the actual theories of the author, Ornella remined him, “You should be off to class, my Harry.”

He cast a quick tempus and noticed, that it was indeed time for him to get back to class. He let Ornella climb back into his sleeve and placed the book into his trunk, before rushing off, to get to Defence.

It wouldn’t do him any good to be late on his first day of school, nonetheless DADA. Hurrying past students and rushing up a few staircases and corridors, he made it just in time, a minute still left for him to settle in.

The last class of the day.

What could possibly go wrong?