Rooms and people
They slowed down in front of the statue’s gown discerning the faint outline of a door, but instead of a gap or a knob, small carved out serpents lined the wall, creating a door like shape.
Ornella raised her head turning to him, “Where is the door, my Harry?”
Glancing down he told her, “Infront of you. Let me just,” he turned to the engraved snakes and spoke, his voice sounding throughout the chamber; silent yet loud. “Open.”
The snakes began to move, stretching and leaving a gap in their wake. The snake closes to Harry raised itself, forming a stone handle. He grabbed it after the door was completely formed, pushing it down, he was not met with a library but what appeared to be a study.
Stepping inside the chamber, the door fell shut with a loud bang causing Harry to slightly jump. Ornella quickly retreated into the green lit room, the warm temperature inside contrasting cold one in the halls before.
The green theme Slytherin was known for being, used here as well. A huge, plush chair lining the wall, next to bookshelves. An old-fashioned desk with snake carvings standing beside a large round table. A portrait of Slytherin hanging above the desk.
Ornella slithered across the floor, exploring, flickering her tongue at every object. Meanwhile Harry did not move, glancing around, eyes lingering on the slumbering portrait.
"Look, how warm it is, my Harry," pointed Ornella out, already moving to seat herself near a fireplace in the far corner. The floor softened by a black carpet. She hissed in bliss, “This is wonderful.”
He hummed, moving to the bookshelf, “I’ve not expected this myself.”
Harry let his fingers glide over the many titles of the book resting within the self. They were on varies fields, not focusing on one particularly. There were books on magical creatures, herbs, politics, ancestral lines and even some diaries.
His hand rested over one diary in particular; it was worn and black, reminding him of Riddle’s diary. Perhaps he could find a way to destroy it in this time as well, though he had no basilisk fang nor the sword of Gryffindor. Requiring the diary would be the first obstacle. Malfoy had confirmed that Riddle had entrusted it with him, which honestly, is kind rather stupid considering Riddle.
He was known for being cautious and Harry knew how protective and cautious he was about his Horcruxes by the task Dumbledore and he had to complete to get the fake Horcrux. But entrusting your soul to another, even if it was just a part. It was far too risky. This would just be proven in the future.
“A boy in my study?”
The lingering finger hastily retracted and he turned towards the portrait in which a now, not so asleep, Salazar Slytherin was sitting. Riddle should really be grateful of his father’s genes, noted Harry as he took in Slytherin’s form.
Just like Merope Gaunt, Salazar Slytherin was not easy on the eye. In contrast to Riddle’s handsomeness, the rest of the Gaunt family had the misfortune of being ugly. The long white beard, of Slytherin contrasted the resplendent blue eyes, his cheek bone’s poking out at an uncomfortable angle and eye sockets too prominent. His face was monkey-like, stature hunched over.
Nodding towards the man― a founder, Harry tried to remind himself― he did not notice Salazar having spoken Parseltongue. “Good evening, sir Slytherin.”
The wizard cocked his head, “You speak snake, boy?”
Boy. Harry held a tight smile on his lips. Whenever somebody, be it Dumbledore even, called him ‘boy’ he was reminded of Uncle Vernon’s constant complaints. He took a deep breath before explaining, “Today we call it Parseltongue, sir. And yes, I do speak it.”
“Parseltongue,” mused Slytherin, stroking his beard. “How peculiar. Are you of my blood since you possess the ability to speak it.”
“No,” answered Harry shortly. “I am not one of your children nor theirs. I got this ability because of someone else’s failure.”
“Peculiar, indeed…” Salazar stared at him for a long time, making Harry suppress the urge to squirm, before asking, “What is today’s date?”
Great question actually. He had no idea. Shrugging, he answered, “I’m sorry, but I don’t know. I have a bit of a time problem myself.”
“A mover then?” Salazar leaned forward in his seating, Harry shortly averted his eyes and spotted Ornella resting peacefully beside the fireplace.
After a short pause he asked, “Mover?”
“A person that moves throughout time,” explained Salazar. “Are you one…? I apologize I have not asked for your name.”
“I’m Harry Lillien Evans and I guess I am a mover then,” replied Harry.
“How wonderful,” exclaimed Salazar before quickly quieting down. “Evans…? I have not heard that name before, is it… tainted?”
Tainted? Harry had a hard time keeping his body from shaking as he suppressed his laughter. Was he trying not to offend him? How hilarious. It was not often that someone in this time, who was of the house of serpents, hesitated on the word mudblood. Even in the future the house was known for its stance on blood supremacy.
After calming down, Harry stared back into the stoic face of Salazar, “My mother was a muggleborns. My father a pureblood.”
The man in the portrait furrowed his eyebrows, “A mix?”
“Half-blood, yes,” said Harry a snicker escaping him. Mix. “It is probably a lot more common than you think. A descendant of yours is a half-blood as well.”
“My descendant?!” Slytherin looked bewildered and then irritated. “I knew we should have cast them away. Those filthy people have weakened our blood.”
As he heard that, his urge to laugh evaporated instantly. He crossed his arms, straightened his back and clarified, “Listen here, Slytherin.” The portrait was enraged by the disrespect. “Yeah, I am thankful that you have helped to create Hogwarts but your view on muggleborns and half-bloods is far of.”
Slytherin huffed. “I will not be talked to like that boy.”
“And what are you gonna do about it? Run the bloody hell off?” The taunting voice emphasized his argument. Slytherin was not and has never been able to move out of his portrait. Slytherin, though irritated stayed quiet. “You are wrong. I have met many half-bloods stronger than purebloods. Their whole incest is what makes them weak-”
“Don’t lie, boy,” raged Slytherin, his bony hands clenched tightly in front of his body. “I have met only great purebloods. Those of clean magic show far more capability than those mudbloods.”
Harry snorted, seething with rage. “And when was the last time you have actually met a pureblood?”
“13th of June 1210,” answered Slytherin proudly.
Harry nodded mockingly, “Just a while back, I see.” The elder raised an eyebrow, crossing his hands in his lap. “I don’t know the exact date but it’s around 1944.” He watched Salazar’s astounded look for a bit before adding, “It’s been quite a while, don’t you think?”
“Oh my magic,” mumbled Salazar out loud. A smirk was returning to Harry’s face.
He waited a few minutes for the founder to collect himself, taking this time to observe the study a bit more. There were many bookshelves built into the wall, some even obscured by charms. He wondered what he might find in there.
Having decided that it was enough time, Harry turned back to Salazar informing him, “Most of the half-bloods I have met are stronger than purebloods; some are even feared by them, others looked up to them.” He sighed and explained, “I’ve no need to justify my opinion on muggleborns and half-bloods, though I do wish to use this study if you’d allow me to.”
Slytherin raised an eyebrow, “And why would I do that? You are in my house, yet you hold no respect towards me.”
“I have not always been in your house,” replied Harry, uncrossing his arms. “And I don’t see any reason I should respect you.”
“I have founded Hogwarts.”
“Along with Rowena Ravenclaw, Helga Hufflepuff and Godric Gryffindor.”
“You are in my study; in my chamber.”
“A chamber that has long since been forgotten by most. A study that isn’t used anymore because it has never been known.” Although the forgotten part was a white lie. After myrtle’s death ―thanks Riddle― many people have paid more attention to the Chamber of Secrets.
Slytherin took his time evaluating him, eyes roving over his body. “And what advantages do you gain from using my study?”
Harry tried to hide his smile, pleased to see that the founder was considering it. “Access to knowledge that the library of Hogwarts would not grant me.”
“You were in Godric’s house before mine, were you not?”
Harry nodded, “Yes, I was.”
Momentarily, a grim expression settled on the elder’s features. Harry saw the other avert his eyes before saying, “Very well.” Harry was beaming inside. “I will allow you to use my chamber, however, be mindful when using my belongings.”
“I will, yes. Thank you very much,” gleamed Harry.
Since Slytherin did not try to engage in a further conversation, Harry took that as his clue to inspect the study. The more Harry took his time observing the room and moving farther inside, the chamber seemed to expand, creating room for more books and accessories.
Browsing through the many titles, he stumbled upon two that were quite interesting to him. A book on magical creatures, the earliest study he had ever seen and after turning a few pages, there were also mentioning of a few creatures he had never encountered. As well as the diary he had seen before.
After he set the books down onto the armchair, he cast a tempus, noticing that it was already past curfew. Reluctantly he left the books on the armchair, approaching Ornella who was lying motionlessly on the carpet before the fireplace. Crouching down, he stroked a hand down her body, “Sorry to disturb you, Ornella, but we need to get back to the dormitories.”
Grumbling, the black snake untangled herself and coiled around his forearm leisurely. Before leaving the study, he turned back towards the portrait and said, “Thank you for letting us use the chamber, sir Slytherin. We will see you tomorrow.”
“Goodbye, mover,” bid Slytherin already falling back into a slumber.
He closed the door, watching the carved snakes coil themselves back into the stones, hiding the door. He made his way back to the entrance when he realized that, firstly, he had forgotten his invisibility cloak and, secondly, he had no idea where the exit was.
“If you smell anything that resembles the corridors, Ornella; guide me,” Harry said trailing of down the long chamber.
Ornella hissed happily and picked up her pace, slithering way faster than Harry had ever seen her do before. He followed her down a few junctions and halls, the damp floor slowly drying and the smell dispersing. He climbed up a few slopes which Ornella easily ascended and followed the path further.
Shortly after Harry and Ornella arrived in front of a wall, where part of it was replaced by wood. He looked down at Ornella who climbed back up his leg and settled on his shoulders. “It is here.”
He nodded, “Thank you, Ornella.”
She hissed happily and settled herself down. Examining the wood, he pushed at it, knocked and tried, “Open.”
The last command caused a rumble to resound, causing Harry to take a step back as the wood began to open, revealing the corridor of Hogwarts ―and if his guess wasn’t too far off, he was on the fourth floor.
Taking his time to settle into the corridor, careful of the prefects that might be lurking around; he watched the exit close, hidden by a painting of the forbidden forest. He stroked a finger down Ornella’s head, thanking her quietly for discovering this exit.
Harry made his way to the staircases and was just about to hop onto one which slotted itself before him, when he spotted Riddle a podium below. Breathing in sharply as their eyes met, he turned around and stalked up another staircase on the other side of his podium, letting it guide him upwards.
He heard Riddle’s voice clearly as the other called after him, “Stop, right there.”
Harry ignored him and waited for another staircase to help him escape. “No students are allowed to move outside there dorms this late at night.”
The staircase he had just rushed up began to move further after he had hopped off it, preventing Riddle from reaching him. This however did not stop the prefect in advancing, as he made his way up the staircase and onto an opposite platform, he called out, “You are prohibited to move around at this time and refuse to listen to a prefect, resulting in a deduction of points and detention.”
Harry raised an eyebrow at that. Up until now, Riddle had not mentioned his name or deducted points from his house. Had he not recognized him? Amused Harry flung himself up another flight of moving stairs, the adrenaline enough to help him jump across the slight parting. Smiling, perhaps because of his fast pulse and hysterics, he pushed himself further upwards.
“Halt this instant.” The demanding voice of Riddle cut up to him, making him move faster.
However, as he reached the next podium, he noticed that no staircase, other than the one he had just walked up, was docked to this platform. He turned towards the door behind him, pushing at it but it wouldn’t budge. He raised his wand and was about to perform an alohomora, as the prefect’s voice sounded behind him, far to close.
“Had your fun, Evans?”
Ornella raised her head slightly and hissed in Riddle’s direction, remembering the incident in Defence. While turning around Harry replied, “Yes, I had.”
Crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow Riddle pressed, “And what are you doing here?”
He waved his hand, “Nothing really.” Glancing down at Ornella’s still raised head, he stroked a finger over her scales. “I’ve just looked for Ornella after she had disappeared.”
Riddle didn’t seem convinced, instead he listed, “50 points for moving around Hogwarts past curfew,” Harr rolled his eyes. “Another 15 points for disrespecting a superior,” Riddle received a tight smile, Harry biting his tongue to keep from cursing. “And another 5 for losing a dangerous animal.”
His hands were clenched by his sides. Yes, he would have definitely punch Riddle if he weren’t so set on changing him. But 70 points was far too much honestly, was Riddle not aware that he was deducting points from his own house.
But apparently, he was. “Evans, what would your house think if they found out about the cause of the deduction of their points.”
Harry cocked his head and forced, “I don’t know. What would they think?”
“They’d be angered, of course,” concluded Riddle, joining his hands behind his back. “Your status in the house is already endangered ―and causing such a disturbance would lead to some… consequences.”
“And what do you suppose I should do now?” Ornella had wound herself tighter around his shoulders, close to crushing him; her gaze however was set on the prefect.
“I may be willing to restore the points that have been taken,” inquired Riddle, glancing at the black snake.
Harry tightened his crossed arms, “But?”
“You will sit next to me in following classes.”
Harry raised an eyebrow and waited a few seconds, doubting that he heard it correctly. As Riddle did not elaborate farther, he asked, “Why?”
“You seem to have a problem relating to interhouse relations,” Riddle noted and stared him into his eyes. He felt as slight probing at the front of his mind, a push, a lure but it was small, unnoticeable and charmed to be ignored. Tender in its motion but dangerous in its intend. He averted his eyes, staring at Riddle’s nose while restraining a scowl.
The straight nose mildly distracting as Riddle’s mouth moved, acting as if nothing has happened and continued, “We may have gotten off on the wrong foot and I’d like to fix that.”
Harry was sure that he couldn’t raise his eyebrow higher but at the end of Riddle’s speech, he furrowed them and stemmed his hands to his hips. “And why would I want that?”
“Why wouldn’t you?”
“You attacked me in defence.”
“As I said before, you attacked me first.”
“I cast a spell at you because it was part of the practice.”
“You did it while I had not paid attention.”
“You urged me to do so,” remarked Harry, the growing irritation making itself visible in his voice. They had been through this before. The same arguments. The same irritation.
"You were not focused."
Harry clenched his fists and stroked a hand down Ornella’s scale, perhaps a bit too forceful but other than a short hiss, Ornella did not react.
"So, you want me to sit next to you?"
"Yes."
"Is he threatening you again, my Harry?" Ornella’s hiss sounded through the empty hall.
Riddle’s eyes lowered to her, Harry’s hand not moving. "I am not," Riddle assured, back straightening and glancing up at Harry as he spoke.
"You do not seem very impressed by my ability," noted Riddle.
Harry glanced aside, saying, "You are not the first to have possessed it." At the same time Ornella hissed, "I wasn’t speaking to you."
Riddle's gaze flickered between them for a moment. His lips pursing before addressing Ornella, "And who were you speaking to?"
Harry felt queasy, knowing that Riddle probably had some ulterior motive as he spoke to Ornella instead of Harry; and that in a language he thinks Harry does not understand. His eyebrows furrowed as Ornella replied, "My Harry of course."
Riddle cocked his head, looming over them both. "And you expect him to answer you? To understand you?"
Harry blanched finally catching on. He quickly intervened before Ornella could answer, "Why aren't you talking to me?"
Riddle cocked an eyebrow, "Do you want me to talk to you?"
His mouth dried and he replied, "Well it's only polite to do so since we were just discussing things —and if you wish for me to sit next to you, I'd like to be respected."
Riddle hummed, "Very well, I apologise. I have only asked Ornella if she had truly run away."
Internally Harry rolled his eyes. "And what did she say?"
Riddle waved his hand, "She was off to hunt a few mice. You should feed her more."
"I'll see to it," Harry said and wanted to move past Riddle to get back to the dorm.
Riddle caught his arm in the motion, the slight tightening of his features almost unnoticeable. "So, you agree to sit next me in following classes."
"Yes," Harry drawled and let his arm fall back to his side after Riddle let go.
It had been a while since he had last been this close to Riddle. Riddle not Voldemort. Last time he had seen these details on his face had been in the Chamber.
The small mole underneath his eye and an even smaller one above his lip standing out from the smoothness of his skin. Unlike their last meeting Riddle’s eyes took on a warmer, redder tone, this however was toned out by the hardening of his features.
He took a deep breath and excused himself, "Goodnight, Riddle."
Riddle nodded, "You as well."
He went down the staircase just in time before it moved away and led him to further to the dungeons. As he moved and weaved his way down, he could feel Riddle’s gaze on him. Burning him with the intensity.
Over his irritation and need to flee, he did not notice the slight chill that crept amongst his body and settled dep inside himself. Ornella however nuzzled at his neck and wrapped herself further around himself.
After they finally found themselves back in the dormitories, Harry noticed that the other Slytherins still weren’t asleep, however at the impression that he was in bed.
Resulting in Harry opening the bed to Avery, Lestrange and Malfoy expecting it to be Riddle that entered. Lestrange kept reading his book, Malfoy jumped up from his bed and Avery quickly settled himself on the bed; before he had been lying on the ground.
“Oh,” said Malfoy, shoulders relaxing slightly and he sat back down on the bed. “It’s just you.”
Harry stroked a finger along Ornella’s body, raising an eyebrow, “Yes. Who did you expect?”
Malfoy drew his eyebrows together and entwined his hands in his lap, “Not you. I expected you to be in bed.”
“That’s where I intend to go now, yes,” noted Harry and walked towards his bed, opening the curtains.
“Where have you been anyway?”
The question came from Avery. Harry turned towards him. “Looking for Ornella.”
“This late at night?” Lestrange’s voice cut straight through the air, his book lay in his lap.
He sighed and let Ornella move towards the bed and coil herself on top of the blanket. “Yes, I had only notice she was gone quite into noon.”
Lestrange was quiet for a brief time before humming, “Alright.”
“As long as you have that snake under control for Merlin’s sake,” he heard Malfoy grumble under his breath.
Grabbing his robes, he made his way to the bathroom and got ready. After exiting Avery asked him, “You have advanced Transfiguration as well, don’t you?”
Harry glanced at him as he went through his trunk. “I do.”
“Do you want to sit next to me tomorrow?” Avery received a disgusted look from Riddle, which quickly turned into shock when he heard Harry’s answer.
“Unfortunately, not. Riddle will probably sit next to me tomorrow.” And the day after tomorrow and the day after that and so on, he added in his mind.
“You lie,” Malfoy accused him, his hands had tightened and face gone slightly red.
Why would I lie about that? Harry thought it a chore to spent time with Riddle. He answered calmly, “I am not, Riddle has even suggested so.”
Malfoy narrowed his eyes and turned his head while whispering, “Did he now?”
Avery and Lestrange had gone suspiciously quiet, well more so for Avery since Lestrange was always rather silent. Harry finally found his book on time magic and settled himself onto his bed, drawing the curtain and placing Ornella in his lap. Afterwards he cast a lumos, creating the only light source in the otherwise dark space.
After a few minutes into reading the new chapter, in which Harry had to reread about half the passages because they were too complex, he grew tired of it.
This chapter depicted the influence time magic had on space and material. The way they entwine and play together; the way they are based on each other. It was pointed out how important control over magic was if it came to time travelling but not only that, other branches of magic as well.
Apparition was listed as an example. If a wizard did not have a strong enough will to apparate, or rather the control of using his magic to achieve such, it results in splintering. For a wizard to achieve time travel, they must have a strong emotional impulse, such as determination or more, to complete the process. Though they also need an excellent amount of magic and control over it.
Harry shut the book. This volume was going to be a dry reading, the few chapters he had read, had proven so already.
He sighed, taking of his glasses and rubbed at his eyes. After stifling a yawn, he vanished the lumos and placed the book under his pillow. Shifting Ornella onto his chest, he closed his eyes.
The next day at breakfast Harry found himself surrounded by his roommates, still drinking his pumpkin juice and having to finish his treacle tart, the topic shifted to today's classes.
Avery being the one to start it, "So we have Transfiguration the first period?"
Lestrange rolled his eyes, "You could be a bit less excited, could you not?"
"I'm not the one always studying," Avery said and delicately cut some fruit.
Lestrange put his book down and grabbed a few grapes, "Perhaps you should."
"Would do you good, Avery," Malfoy added. "What did you want to become anyway?"
Avery pierced the cut pineapple on a fork and drawled, "Well, I wanted to be an auror," he glanced at Riddle who was reading today's paper. "But Dumbledore really isn't making it easy for me."
Harry could hear the distain and sarcasm in his voice. So he asked, "Why?"
Malfoy looked at him, still remembering their previous conversation about the diary; apparently, he hadn't told Riddle about it who sat there, far too relaxed to know about it, reading the prophet. The blond's features froze as he carefully said, "Dumbledore has a rather prejudice view on anyone else than his... pets."
"And who would his pets be?" Harry pushed, vexation bubbling beneath his skin.
"You can take a guess," Lestrange unlike the other times said. His voice drawn out and mocking. "They dress up in hideous red and gold, have an ego far too big to fit themselves and get away with everything."
"Lestrange," it was Riddle. He glanced up from the paper and looked at him as he warned, "I wouldn't you speak your dislike out loud, in such a public place no less –you could be overheard."
Lestrange nodded and turned back to his book. Avery faced Harry and explained, "You could say that Dumbledore doesn't take kind on our house in his lessons."
Harry hummed and turned back on his treacle tart, poking it a few times. Was Dumbledore that prejudice? Everyone was at certain points; there was no exception, he knew that. Dumbledore was younger as well; therefore, he didn't have the same experiences or knowledge as he did back in his time, he probably wasn't as wise.
Still, he tried to protect Harry every time he thought Harry was endangered. Of course that didn't always seem the best option. In his fifth year for example Dumbledore had avoided him, when he needed the headmaster; when he had been scared, worried for the people around him.
Dumbledore had done what he thought to be right, even if he was wrong at times. But so had Harry been, many times. Now that Dumbledore was killed —the realisation still set his stomach at unease— he would not blame a dead person. Someone he held no further grudge against.
"Stop thinking so much, my Harry," Ornella hissed beside him, bumping her nose against his cheek. He did not notice Riddle’s eyes as he reluctantly started eating the heavenly dish.
"So, how should I act in Transfiguration?" He asked after a while, his tart almost finished.
Riddle at last addressed him, "Since you will sit next to me, professor Dumbledore's focus will automatically turn to you as well."
Right... Harry thought. He'd be sitting next to Riddle. Joy. "If you have any experience in the subject, you will not need to worry. Otherwise, I suggest you study in preparation for the next classes."
Harry shrugged; he had done quite well the previous year. "Alright."
Harry finished his tart quickly, which unfortunately resulted in him having to endure the others on his way to the classroom. They mocked and laughed at a few students they came across. A few times, Harry understood their jokes and opinion, having to stifle a laugh.
After arriving in a classroom located on the first floor, Harry waited for Riddle to seat himself, noticing that Riddle seemed reluctant to move to the front of the class.
As they sat down and got their materials ready, professor Dumbledore arrived. His shimmering burgundy robes matched the theme of the classroom. The shelves were lined with many different coloured books, the windows were given a slightly red touch and the desk was emphasized by red carvings, reminding Harry of lions.
When professor Dumbledore made his way to the front, he spotted him next to Riddle and stopped at their desk, eliciting a smile from Harry when he noted, “You have settled in well, I see.”
Harry shrugged, “I expected worse, professor.”
“I hope you find Transfiguration as delightful as your travels,” said Dumbledore; obviously hinting towards his time traveling problem.
He saw Riddle staring at Dumbledore before turning back to his studies, pretending to prepare for the lesson. “I can assure you that I do.”
“Very well, Mr. Evans,” Dumbledore nodded and lend him a smile prior to approaching his desk.
Harry turned back to sorting through his parchment and preparing his desk when Riddle asked, “Do you happen to know Dumbledore?”
Harry did not look at him as he said, “We have met before.”
“And you still have a positive relationship with him?”
He furrowed his eyes now, giving Riddle his attention, “Why would I not?”
Riddle glanced towards Dumbledore, who leant against his desk while reading a book. “It does not matter,” concluded Riddle. “You mentioned that you were good at Transfiguration, yes?”
“I would like to think so,” Harry answered and stroked Ornella’s scales, who was wrapped around his shoulders.
Riddle caught his movement and observed, “You have found a new way to look after Ornella.”
“I had to,” admitted Harry. “She has grown very distressed since the DADA incident.”
He shot Riddle a look who just raised his eyebrows in an impassive manner. “Yes, I have noticed so yesterday. She wasn’t exactly happy to see me.”
Wonder why, Harry thought and turned to the front as Dumbledore began the lesson, "Settle down everyone."
The chatters quieted down, the students turning their attention towards the front —some at least. Putting down his book, Dumbledore drew his wand transfiguring one of the marbles on his desk into little trinkets. “Quite easy, isn’t it?”
Harry could hear soft protests forming at the back of the class. “You should be able to perform it as well,” added Dumbledore looking around. “But that is not what we will focus on in the next lessons. Why don’t we take a look at you, Ms. Abbott.”
He approached a Hufflepuff student at the front tows. She glanced at her friend before asking, “Me, professor?”
“What extraordinary black hair you have,” noted Dumbledore.
Harry and the others were slightly confused since the Hufflepuff was a blond. This however shortly changed after Dumbledore waved his wand, turning Abbott’s hair black. Realization dawned on Harry; they would start Human-Transfiguration. What a disastrous topic that had been.
Abbott had briefly panicked when her friend informed her about the change, but as Dumbledore quickly restored it back to its original colour, she calmed down. He turned to a boy in the farthest row who had not been paying attention, a Gryffindor.
Pointing his wand; hence, the attention of every student towards the Gryffindor, Dumbledore called out, “Mr. Longbottom,” the boy’s head snapped up from whatever he was doing. Harry strained his neck as soon as the name reached his ears. The blond hair and freckled face resembling Neville, though his stance was far more confident and cockier.
“Yes, professor?” He ran a hand through his hair.
Dumbledore swept a hand over his robes, “It would prove beneficial to pay attention to the lesson.”
“I always am, professor,” the blond replied.
Because of his turned position he made out a grumbled, “Sure,” coming from Avery.
“Really?”
“Of course, professor.”
Dumbledore crossed his arms, “And you did not notice any changes now, did you?”
Amusement spread through the class as everyone watched the boy’s hair and eyebrows turn to a sickening green, cheeks blossoming in red. He could see Avery barely retaining a snicker, which earned a scowl from Riddle who, apparently, did not take as kind to Dumbledore as the others. Harry however had to admit, that the ludicrousness of the Gryffindor’s ignorance was truly outstanding. Resulting in a snort as Longbottom asked, “Should I, sir?”
“It is of no importance if you don’t notice it,” said Dumbledore and tucked his wand away. “But what exactly was it that I have done?”
The query reached his peers, snapping them put of their amusement. His gaze swept over the classroom letting question linger in the air, Riddle and harry simultaneously raised their hands. Riddle far higher than Harry.
Dumbledore gestured at him, “Mr. Evans.”
“Human-Transfiguration, sir,” he concluded shortly and watched, satisfied, as Riddle lowered his hand. “That is what you performed.”
Dumbledore smiled, “Indeed, I did. Do you happen to know what this specific transfiguration covers?”
He was quiet for a moment, remembering the specific wording they had been told, “It may be used to alter or transfigure body parts to resemble that of another creature or even an entire human being into a completely different form.”
“Correct,” Dumbledore clapped his hands. “Exactly.”
Riddle nodded at him, as esteem of his knowledge when he caught his eye. Harry’s eyes narrowed but he focused back on Dumbledore’s lesson which after their previous interaction continued as a completely dry presentation of facts and theory.
While Dumbledore was excellent at teaching this class, the theory behind it wasn’t that interesting. However, as they reached the end of the period, Dumbledore informed them, that they would begin to practice this branch of transfiguration the following lesson.
Harry began to pack his supplies, risking a peek at Riddle who had over the last few minutes started to grow tense and quite literally stare at Dumbledore as he held his lecture. However, the smile that played on his lips was deceivingly harmless and appreciative.
Would Harry not be as attentive and used to Riddle as he was, he wouldn’t have noticed those factors as well. But seeing it definitely shows Harry just how much Riddle has control over his actions and features.
"I only have Potions and Charms left today," Harry informed Riddle as he stood.
The prefect, collected his stuff and turned to him, "Alright, then I will see you in potions."
Harry nodded, stomach tightening. Sitting next to Riddle wasn’t as bad as he had expected it to be. As long as he could ignore the other and keep from being reminded of who he was, which turned out to be far more difficult in those lessons that bore him to death and leave him enough time to think about other things.
He made his way out of the classroom, joined by Avery at the door. The ash-blond was looking at Longbottom, whose transfiguration was still intact and hadn't noticed it.
Seeing Avery's mocking smile, he stated, a few feet down the corridor, "Dumbledore wasn't so bad."
Avery's smile faltered and his gaze strayed. "I must admit that he had been acting far more... serene."
"I see," Harry saw Lestrange and Malfoy twist around a corner before them. It wouldn’t have been as suspicious if Harry didn't know for sure that behind the corner was a dead end.
He glanced back towards the corner when Avery and he descended down a staircase and headed down towards the dungeons. As they reached the last floor and headed towards the common room Harry asked, "You have a free period too?"
"Fortunately," said Avery adjusting his robes. "I still don't know how Riddle manages to keep such a full schedule."
Harry stared at the far wall. "Why? He seems to have quite a lot of spare time."
Avery huffed. "So it seems. He has all core classes at advanced level, as well as Study of Ancient Runes and Arithmancy. Other than that, he also chose Field Studies and Magical Theory."
Harry’s surprise and astonishment was barely hidden, "And he still manages to be a prefect and head-boy?"
Avery shrugged, "Don't ask me how he does it. I would bet he uses a time turner but honestly, who knows for sure."
Harry hummed and let Avery open the entrance to their common room. He had expected that Riddle had a tight schedule, always been told that he was an excellent and ideal student; this however would surely drive a man mad.
He supposed that he has always been a tad insane. But having chosen that many subjects and still managing to complete other tasks was simply crazy.
Tom Riddle could have been so much more, Harry decided. He could have truly achieved better and greater things. If he kept this enthusiastic behaviour up, Harry had no idea who would reject him as that.
An employee which excels in everything further managing to complete more. Truly, Harry had no idea why Tom Riddle became Voldemort. Why he has already started becoming him.
A shame, Harry concluded as Avery and he reached the dormitory. Thus, his thrive to change the future was only strengthened. He made his way over to his bed, he tried to deposit Ornella who in return only wrapped tighter around his arm, hissing, "Cold."
He smiled and ran a finger over her hidden form. Avery said, "What are you going to do now?"
Harry glanced at him as he approached his trunk, to take out his invisibility cloak, "Nothing really, just going to the library."
"I'll join you then, I need to complete Slughorn’s essay," the other drawled and gathered his quills and parchments.
He stuffed the cloak inside his inner pocket and grabbed a bag. "You haven't started yet?"
"Oh, I did start," stated Avery. "I just didn't finish it."
"Alright," Harry mumbled. That meant he wouldn't be taking a trip to the Chamber of Secrets.
Before going to the library, Harry renewed the heating charm on his robes, a slight chill creeping along his body. However, the only assurance that the spell had worked came from Ornella, who blissfully hissed, "Warm."
The coldness settled deep in his bones, not dissolved by the charm. A shudder raked his skin and he quickly straightened back up, waiting for Avery and trying to distract himself.
The blond swung the bag over his shoulder, adjusted his tie and nodded at Harry before stalking out the dormitory.
The halls were deserted as they walked along them, the silence filled the atmosphere around them; their footsteps echoing throughout it.
Harry was less tense than he had expected. Avery, although a follower of Riddle, wasn't as annoying as the ones in the future. He would have laughed, the way the other had already been shaped into submissiveness. His whole year-mates were pathetic if he were honest, Lestrange the less.
When they arrived in the library, they sat down at a table not far off the main aisle. He let Ornella rest on the table and nodded at Avery who left his bag on his chair and went looking for a book on the topic Slughorn had given them.
Looking around, he asked Ornella, “Would you like to go visit the chamber again?”
She coiled around herself saving warmth, “Which one?”
“Salazar’s Chamber, the one we visited yesterday.”
She hissed, “It was very warm there. Yes, I'd like to visit it again.”
He hummed and stroked down her scales. Then they would visit the chamber after class again. He waited until Avery returned, contemplating whether he should look for another book on time magic.
Deciding that it was too risky, he chose to just look for a book on the general depiction of magic; hence, as Avery returned with a surprising number of four books, Harry made to stand up, letting Ornella move to his seat.
He took his time browsing the many shelves of the library. The reference section had a variety of topics. Broad and superficial or detailed and thorough. Books portraying the general idea of magic had more than five large shelves just for them. Every space filled by pages and bindings. Yes, this is definitely Hermione's specialty.
And yet there were only few books on time magic. Thanking Slytherin for letting him use his library, Harry picked out two books, already overwhelmed by one. Were he not as unused to reading and slow nonetheless, he would have picked out a few more.
Returning to the table, he noticed how, on one side, Ornella was curled tightly and lay unmoving and on the other, Avery had already started writing.
Avery looked up when he deposited the books on the table and read the titles as Harry shifted Ornella onto his lap. “‘Core; the substation of magic’ and ‘Magical Means’?”
Harry nodded. Avery leant back and stated, “If you're interested in magical theory, you could have just taken the subject, you know?”
“I know, yes,” said Harry, grabbing, ‘Core; the substation of magic’. “But I'm not really fond of… teachers.”
Some, that was. Snape for example taught the best subjects in the worst way. Avery apparently knew what he was talking about, humming, “Indeed. Some…” Harry had a distinctive feeling that he was talking about Dumbledore. “Are not worth their position.”
Harry just agreed and started on his book. Unlike the book on time magic, this one on the other hand divided a magical being into body, mind, and soul.
While the body was the physical form of magicals, the mind was described as the production and processor of thoughts, impulses, evaluations and connections. The soul was described to hold the essence of life and magic; meaning that, if Harry remembered it correctly, the soul could also be compared to the core.
Harry focused specifically on the passages describing the soul. The author, Marilyn Rainwash, stated that since the soul is the holder of the essence of life, the soul is deeply connected to the body and as such the mind.
Therefore, it is easily explained how wand cores, as separate parts of the body, still hold magic and can interact with others. It can be said that because they have always been connected to the soul and mind, they still hold a sense of both.
He was six pages in when he put the book down and rubbed at his eyes. Avery had written almost a page and a half when he put his pen down. “Merlin, help me,” groaned Avery.
Harry looked up. “Are you finished?”
“Sure did,” Avery informed with a proud smile. “That adds up to six and a half parchments.”
Harry raised both eyebrows. “Wow, OK. I have around four.”
“That's the requested amount, so it should be fine,” Avery reassured. “Though you could have gone more into detail if you only have that much.”
Harry rolled his eyes, petting Ornella. “You remind me of a friend of mine.” Hermione to be exact.
Avery stared at him for a moment before cocking his head, “A good one I hope.”
“Brilliant,” insured Harry, smiling. His chest tightened at a reminder of possibly never seeing her again. He would do everything in his power to change the future and get back to his friends. He will ensure that.
Avery nodded and collected his parchments, laying the spare ones aside. He carefully stuffed the papers inside his bag before placing his other supplies inside.
“We should get back if we want to be on time for lunch,” Avery told him.
Harry nodded and stopped stroking Ornella causing her to stir but not wake. He sighed and lifted her onto the table, packing his things.
As he did so Avery kept his eyes locked on the snake, body tense. After swinging his bag over his shoulder, he collected Ornella in his arms, letting her tail dangle off.
He started heading out the library, Avery in tow. Hesitantly Avery asked, “Is something wrong with it?”
Harry turned to face him. “What?”
“Your snake,” Avery pointed at her. “What's wrong with it?”
“Oh,” said Harry, surprised. He didn't expect Avery to worry about her. “She's fine just asleep.”
“Ah,” Avery glanced down at her. “Alright.”
Harry smiled.
They did not speak the entirety of their walk to the common room and afterwards the Great Hall. Ornella had, some way through this, woken up and wound herself around Harry's arm in his sleeve.
When they entered the Great Hall, Harry noticed Orion once again. The black hair catching his attention easily. Orion had noticed Harry’s stare as well and faced him, raising an eyebrow. He was snapped out of his focus when Avery led him towards Riddle and Lestrange; Malfoy apparently gone.
Avery sat down next to Harry, causing him to be surrounded by him and Lestrange. “Did you finally finish your essay?”
Lestrange had put his book down as soon as they had arrived. Avery angled his head towards him, making Harry feel uncomfortable as he started piling food on his plate and filling his cup with pumpkin juice.
“Of course I did,” said Avery, clearly annoyed but still reigning his dramatics. “I wouldn’t be here otherwise ―and besides, Evans is a far better company than you.”
Earning a raised eyebrow from Lestrange and a glance from Riddle, Harry shovelled some food into his mouth. Lestrange folded his hands on top of the table, leaning forward, “And how so?”
“First and foremost, he doesn’t mock me,” Avery pointed out, a sharp look thrown in Lestrange direction. “Neither does he complain about the way I use the space to work.”
“You don’t?” The incredulous look Lestrange sent Harry was enough to cause a flurry feeling in his stomach.
“I know someone who is worse than Avery,” Harry admitted.
Riddle raised his head and asked, “A friend of yours?”
Harry took a few seconds to eye Riddle, contemplating his answer before drawing out, “Sure.”
Riddle nodded but did not push it. Giving him the opportunity to finish his food in peace before another treacle tart appeared Infront of him. He smiled, his mouth watering. He could definitely get used to this.
Suddenly he remembered that they would be attending potions after lunch and it was highly possible that they would be brewing the Draught of the Living Death. He tried to recall how to achieve the result he had the last time he brew it.
He quickly came to the conclusion that he still remembered some of it but if he truly wanted to achieve an identical outcome, he would have to use the Half-Blood Prince's book again.
But would he really need that book to obtain good grades in potions? Before he had always had Snape as a teacher; biased and unjustly at grading. Receiving poor marks for acceptable work –and besides, most of his failures have been caused by others. He wasn't outstanding but he wasn't bad at potions either.
He could get a great mark on his brew and he didn't need to be outstanding in this time. It would be easier for him to blend in if he wouldn't excel in everything. But there was still a draw the Half-blood Prince's book had.
Alluring, even throughout time. It wouldn't do him good to possess the book again, he knew so, but maybe, just maybe, he would benefit from it. Perhaps it would help him to reach his goal.
The spell, sectumsempra, he still thought about it. The way Malfoy had crumpled to the ground and lay tinged in blood and red water. The scene itself would have been magnificent and tantalizing, had he not nearly killed someone; a child no less.
But sitting here amongst future death eaters, Harry could not find it in himself to care —in fact, he was far more indifferent than anything else.
Right now, Harry blamed Draco for his misery, the situation he had ended up in. Draco was the one that restored the vanishing cabinet; the one that led the death eaters into Hogwarts; the one that had disarmed Dumbledore.
Harry clenched his jaw and stabbed at his treacle tart. Lestrange cleared his throat, making him meet his eye. Lestrange asked, "Everything alright?"
"Just remembered that I forgot my book," said Harry, stuffing the rest of his tart into his mouth and rushing out.
He held his bag tightly in one hand as he descended down the corridors and up some staircases. Where to go if one had lost his stuff other than the room of requirements. When he finally reached the seventh floor, he was breathing heavily.
Those stairs were no joke, Harry concluded and straightened back up from his hunched position. The fact that he had run up the whole way did not help that fact at all.
Trudging to the wall, in the future infamous —at least amongst students—, he wished for one thing at that time. The Half-blood Prince's book.
He did not know whether the room was able to conjure this book. It hadn't existed in this time but neither had the chamber they trained in with the DA. If he remembered most details, he was sure that the room of requirements would surely be able to produce or 'find' this book.
Watching a door form on the otherwise blank wall, Harry felt anticipation swell inside his chest; tingling and light. He stepped forward and pushed the door open.
He was greeted by a blank room. White walls and floor. In the centre of the room lay a book. Appearance the same way that Harry had pictured it.
He stalked over to it and picked the book up. Turning it over a few times, Harry marked the resemblance in the used cover and pages. He opened the book and searched for the owner, expecting it to read, 'Half-bloodPrince'. Instead, shaped in a handwriting that was far too familiar, 'Harry Lillien Evans' was written.
He frantically flipped through the pages, trying to spot any difference. But other than the change of name there appeared to be no difference. He sighed and flipped back to the first page, tracing a finger over his name.
Ornella began moving all of the sudden, snapping him out of his focus. She lifted her head out of his sleeve and flicked her tongue at the book. “What is this, my Harry? It smells weird,” she noted and wrapped her body around his wrist, resting her head on his thumb.
“A book I need for school,” supplied Harry and switched the book to his other hand, storing it in his bag.
Ornella hissed, “The other books don’t smell this weird.”
“Well, it’s not the usual book,” admitted Harry and swung the bag over his shoulder. “But I need it anyway.”
“What for?”
He looked around one last time, remembering the DA meetings. “Help, I guess.”
She hissed but quieted down again when Harry exited the room of requirements. He rushed down the many staircases and entered the potion classroom just in time for the lesson to begin. Quickly settling beside Riddle who just raised an eyebrow but did not comment, Harry took out his essay, quill, parchment and book.
He noticed the other's eyes lingering on the worn cover before paying attention to Slughorn again. Their professor informed, “As proof that you did not only copy down facts for your essay,” Slughorn’s gaze lingered on a Gryffindor. “I want you to brew an example of the Draught of the Living Death after handing in your assignment. I am sorry to disappoint, Mr. Garreth, but this task will not take place with a partner. We have enough tables for everyone to occupy. Now go on, everyone!”
Harry got up and deposited his assignment at the stack of parchments the other students have put theirs on afterwards, making his way over to a spare table which happened to be beside the one Riddle had chosen.
He gave Riddle a tight smile and was about to get his ingredients when Slughorn called out, “Such as is tradition; the students who achieves the best brew shall receive a vial of liquid luck. I hope that is enough of an incentive to try your best.”
This was definitely worth using the Half-Blood Prince’s book for. Harry opened the page where the instructions to brew the potion were scribbled on. He still roughly remembered the procedure; hence, it wasn’t as difficult to start or to understand.
As he began to work, Riddle sometimes glanced over, his potion always a step ahead. Once he got to the instruction of crushing the Sopophorous Bean and pressed the blade down, Riddle interfered, “Stop, Evans.”
He glanced up but continued to crush the bean. “You’re doing it wrong,” told him Riddle.
He crushed a second bean. “What does it matter?”
“You are member of my house, of my year, I help when help is needed.”
Harry rolled his eyes and crushed another bean. “Sure, as long as you’re happy with it. I am fine with how things are, Riddle. Focus on yourself.”
After a bit of reluctance, Riddle did not talk to him again, concentrating on his potion only throwing him a few peeks when he was stirring. Harry sighed and continued his potion, a chill raking over his body.
Finally finishing the draught, Harry bottled it up and wiped sweat off his forehead. His hair as messy as it always was after potions. He handed the potion over to Slughorn who, in return, gave a delighted hum and sent him to clean up his workstation.
As everybody finished up and found themselves back at their seat, Riddle asked him, “How have you even finished that potion?”
Harry crossed his arms on the table, “Don’t know what you mean.”
“You always differed from the instructions in the book and yet, you seem to have completed your potion.”
“Intuition, I guess,” Harry tried. “Wanna bet that my potion's better than yours?”
Riddle smiled at him; a charming, if not sharp smile. “Sure. On what?”
Harry suppressed a grin. This would be too easy. As good as Riddle was, he surely couldn’t surpass the Half-Blood Prince’s talent. “How about a favour at the time of a choosing.”
“Very well,” agreed Riddle just as Slughorn found himself in front of the class again.
“You have all done exceedingly well,” commented Slughorn proudly. “However, there was one sample that was just perfect. There is no other way to put it.”
Riddle straightened up a bit, much to Harry’s amusement. “I must ask the student to step to the front and collect their vial of liquid luck.”
The silence, as Slughorn paused, was tense and expectant. Some people were ready to step to the front in a second, others had already given up, leaning back in their seat.
“Harry Evans.”
The name echoed throughout the room, shocking most peers. Harry watched, satisfied, as Riddle’s eyebrows slightly twitched and his eyes snapped to his already moving form.
As Harry made his way over to Slughorn, he felt like it was the first time collecting the vial of Felix Felicis. Every gaze fixated on him; curious, envious. He accepted the small vial Slughorn was holding out to him and turned out the professor’s praises, watching Riddle’s hardening gaze follow his every move, only once sparing his book a glance.
Harry could not suppress a smile as he stood in front of this class. And the knowledge that Riddle was now owing him a debt was far too sweet to pass on, basking in his victory, he let himself enjoy these few moments.