Unexpected ally
The Room of Requirement was still dimly lit when Tom stirred awake, the flickering candlelight casting shifting shadows across the walls. The air was warm, quiet—comfortable. Too comfortable.
It took him a moment to remember where he was, why he wasn’t in his own bed, but then the faint sound of steady breathing beside him grounded him.
Harry.
Tom turned his head slightly, gaze settling on the other boy. He was still asleep, sprawled out on his side, dark hair even messier than usual. His face, usually so sharp and expressive, was relaxed in sleep, his breathing slow and even. It was rare to see him like this—unguarded.
Tom shifted his gaze toward the enchanted clock hanging on the wall. 5:07 AM.
He had to leave.
And so did Harry.
Tom scowled, rubbing his temple before leaning down and giving Harry’s shoulder a firm shake. "Wake up."
Harry groaned, shifting slightly but refusing to open his eyes.
"Wake up," Tom repeated, more insistent this time. "Unless you want your housemates to find your bed empty and start asking questions."
Harry muttered something incoherent, burying his face into the pillow.
Tom’s patience thinned. "Harry."
At that, Harry finally cracked one eye open, blinking blearily at him. "...’S too early."
Tom huffed. "Yes, well, I don’t particularly care. You need to get back before they realise you’re missing."
Harry made a vague noise of protest but pushed himself up reluctantly, rubbing his eyes. "What time is it?"
"Past five."
Harry groaned again, but this time, he didn’t argue. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, running a hand through his already wild hair. "Should’ve let me sleep longer."
"And let you get caught sneaking back in? I don’t think so," Tom muttered, standing and reaching for his shirt. "Hurry up, Harry. I have my own problems to deal with."
Harry grumbled but got to his feet, stretching lazily before searching for his shoes.
Meanwhile, Tom dressed with methodical precision—shirt first, smoothing out the fabric before buttoning it up, then his tie, which he looped around his collar with a practiced ease. His robes came last, the Slytherin green stark against the neutral tones of the room. He barely glanced at Harry, who was still sluggishly putting himself together.
When Harry finally had his shoes on, he shot Tom a bleary look. "...You don’t want to go back, do you?"
Tom paused slightly, fingers adjusting his cuffs.
Then, without looking at him, he said, "No."
Harry didn’t say anything at first, just watching him. Then he sighed. "Well. Good luck with that."
Tom smirked faintly. "I don’t need luck."
Harry snorted, heading toward the door. "Right. You just need an escape plan."
Tom rolled his eyes but didn’t refute it.
With a final glance at the now-empty room, he followed Harry out.
It was time to return to reality.
---
Tom had expected some level of tension when he finally returned to the Slytherin common room. He just hadn't expected this.
The moment he stepped through the entrance, the atmosphere shifted. Conversations dipped into hushed whispers, eyes flicked toward him before quickly looking away, and an unmistakable sense of wariness clung to the air. It was almost amusing. Almost.
It had been one more night. Another night spent outside the dormitory, away from their presence. And yet, somehow, his absence had been enough to unnerve them.
He took a slow step forward, his expression carefully neutral, as he swept his gaze across the room. The tension was palpable, thick like fog. Some watched him with outright suspicion, others with curiosity. But there was one thing he noted above all else—none of them trusted him right now.
Good.
That meant they feared him.
And fear was far more useful than trust.
He moved toward his usual seat near the fireplace, only for a figure to step into his path.
Rabastan Lestrange.
Of course.
"Decided to grace us with your presence, Avery?" Rabastan drawled, his voice sharp. His lip curled as he crossed his arms, making a show of blocking the way. "Or did your little Gryffindor keep you too busy?"
The common room fell eerily silent.
Tom met Rabastan’s sneer with an unimpressed stare. "Try again, Lestrange. If you want to insult me, at least attempt creativity."
Rabastan's eyes darkened. "I don’t need to be creative to state the obvious. Everyone saw it. You—" He jabbed a finger at Tom’s chest. "You humiliated me. For what? Defending some half-blood?" His voice twisted with disgust. "Or do you have a different reason for protecting him?"
Tom didn’t move. Didn’t blink.
But the temperature in the room seemed to drop.
"You’re upset because I put you in your place?" His voice was soft, but the challenge in it was razor-sharp. "Forgive me, Lestrange. I wasn’t aware you needed coddling after a public embarrassment."
Rabastan's jaw clenched. "You think you can just walk back in here and pretend nothing happened?" His voice had risen now, loud enough for everyone to hear. "You turned against your own house. Against me. What does that say about you, Avery? Besides you are filth."
A murmur spread through the common room. Tom could feel the weight of their stares, the unspoken accusation in them.
And for the first time in a long while, Tom found himself being ostracized.
The realization was... frustrating.
He had underestimated just how deep their hive-minded nature ran. The Slytherins were a unit. A faction. To defy one was to defy the whole. And in their eyes, he had done just that.
They weren’t just wary of him now.
They were against him.
A lesser person might have bristled. Might have tried to claw their way back into favour.
But Tom was not lesser.
And he would never beg.
"Interesting," a cool voice drawled, cutting through the tense air.
Tom turned his head slightly, and there—leaning lazily against the wall with an air of calculated arrogance—was Lucius Malfoy.
Lucius met his gaze with an expression of amusement, a smirk playing at his lips. He took a slow step forward, his pristine robes barely shifting as he moved.
"I must say, Avery," he murmured, tilting his head in mock curiosity, "I find this entire situation fascinating."
Rabastan scowled. "What’s so fascinating about him?"
Lucius exhaled, almost bored, and then turned his gaze back to Tom, eyes gleaming with something unreadable. "Avery is... intriguing."
The room seemed to hold its breath.
"One moment, he’s with us in his place," Lucius continued, his voice smooth, "the next, he’s defending a Gryffindor—publicly, no less. I must say, it’s rare to see someone so..." His lips curled, almost in amusement. "Multifaceted."
Tom arched a brow. "A quality you appreciate, Malfoy?"
"Immensely," Lucius murmured, gaze unwavering. "It’s always the unpredictable ones who are the most compelling."
A ripple of understanding passed through the Slytherins. A few exchanged looks, some smirking, others outright gaping.
Tom, however, barely reacted.
Lucius watched him for a moment longer before sighing dramatically. "Honestly, Lestrange, your outrage is tiresome. If Avery chooses to entertain himself by protecting Gryffindors, that’s his business."
Rabastan bristled. "Entertain himself?"
Lucius gave a lazy shrug. "It’s hardly the most scandalous thing someone in our house has done. And besides—" His gaze flickered back to Tom, lips curving into something that almost resembled a smirk. "Avery can do whatever he likes."
The shift in the room was immediate.
Lucius Malfoy’s opinion mattered. And if he wasn’t condemning Tom, then perhaps Tom’s actions weren’t quite so damning after all.
The hostility didn’t disappear completely, but it dulled. The tension lingered, but it no longer pressed so suffocatingly against Tom’s skin.
Rabastan, however, still looked furious. His lips twisted as he let out a sharp breath. "This isn’t over."
Tom tilted his head. "No. I don’t imagine it is."
Rabastan shot him one last glare before stalking off. Others followed suit, though some hesitated, watching Tom with varying degrees of suspicion.
Tom let them.
He was not concerned.
Lucius, however, lingered.
With a slow, deliberate motion, he stepped closer, voice low. "You really don’t see it, do you?"
Tom frowned slightly. "See what?"
Lucius let out a quiet chuckle. "Nothing, Avery. Absolutely nothing." Then, with one last, lingering look, he turned and walked away, leaving Tom standing there, faintly perplexed.
He didn’t have time to dwell on it, though, because a voice suddenly murmured near his ear.
"You made a mistake."
Tom turned his head just slightly and found himself face-to-face with Severus Snape.
Unlike the others, Snape wasn’t looking at him with suspicion or wariness. No, his gaze was calculating. Assessing.
Tom held his gaze. "What mistake?"
Snape’s lips barely moved. "You drew too much attention to yourself. You should have handled Lestrange differently. Quieter."
Tom narrowed his eyes. "Why do you care?"
Snape tilted his head slightly. "Because I know what it means to stand apart from them." His voice was quiet, almost thoughtful. "And I know how quickly they turn on those they don’t understand."
Tom stared at him for a long moment.
Then, he inclined his head just slightly.
Snape stepped back, but before leaving, he murmured one last thing:
"Be careful, Avery. If you want them to follow you, you need to remind them why they should."
Tom watched him disappear into the crowd.
And for the first time that morning, a slow, sharp smile curled at his lips.
Snape was right.
It was time to remind them all exactly who they were dealing with.
---
The Gryffindor dormitory was blissfully quiet when Harry slipped inside. He moved quickly, careful to step over the scattered shoes and robes littering the floor. The other boys were still fast asleep, their soft snores filling the room, and he took advantage of that, tiptoeing toward his bed.
With the ease of someone who had far too much practice sneaking around, Harry pulled back his covers and slid in, shifting onto his side just as naturally as if he’d been there all night.
Perfect.
Just as he was getting comfortable, a loud snore from the bed beside him made him flinch.
Peter.
The boy was sprawled out on his mattress, mouth wide open, drooling onto his pillow. Mouth wide open as he snored obliviously.
Harry’s breath caught in his throat.
You could do it right now.
The thought came so suddenly, so easily, that it made his hands clench.
If Peter Pettigrew died today—if he simply never woke up—his parents would never be betrayed. There would be no Voldemort finding them in Godric’s Hollow, no flashing green light, no screaming mother shielding her infant son.
Everything could be undone.
His fingers twitched at his side. A wandless curse, a single whispered spell in the dead of night, and it would all be over before anyone could stop him.
He wouldn’t even have to use magic—there were simpler ways. Easier ways.
For one terrifying second, he felt it—the sharp pull in his chest, the temptation curling around him like a whispered promise.
And then, just as quickly, the thought disgusted him.
Harry tore his gaze away, forcing himself to breathe.
What the hell is wrong with me?
His stomach churned as he pushed a hand through his hair, swallowing against the bitter taste in his mouth.
He had spent so long fearing what Tom could become, what he was, yet here he was—contemplating murder. And not in battle, not in the heat of war, but in cold, premeditated silence.
Would it even be so different from what Tom had done?
But no—no, it would be different. Because Tom wasn’t Voldemort.
A whole soul separated them.
And that was the difference between them.
But Peter?
Peter had been whole when he had betrayed his best friends. He had been whole when he had handed James and Lily Potter over to their deaths.
And that was why Harry hated him more than Voldemort, more than anyone else in the world. Because Peter had been their friend - no family.
And the thought of betraying Ron and Hermione in the same way?
It was unfathomable.
Harry exhaled shakily, burying the thoughts deep where they couldn’t reach him.
He wouldn’t do it. He wouldn’t become that person. Shoving the last remnants of his dark thoughts aside, he forced himself to close his eyes.
Maybe he could steal a few more minutes of sleep before—
"Rise and shine, you lazy lot!"
Harry’s eyes snapped open in alarm just as James Potter ran around the room, looking entirely too energetic for this time of morning. His hair was even messier than usual—if that was possible—and he had a mischievous glint in his eyes that spelled trouble.
"Ugh, James, it’s too early," Sirius groaned from his bed, pulling his blankets over his head. "Go away."
James grinned. "No can do, Padfoot. We’ve got classes today. Can’t have you missing your very first lesson of the year, now, can we?"
"I could, actually."
Harry snorted.
But James wasn’t deterred. "Well, that just won’t do. Looks like I’ll have to resort to more… drastic measures."
There was a beat of silence before Sirius peeked out from under his blanket. "You wouldn’t dare."
James’ grin widened.
And then—
SPLASH.
Sirius let out a strangled yelp as freezing water drenched his head. He shot up instantly, spluttering. "JAMES!"
James stood triumphantly, empty goblet in hand. "Good morning, Sirius!"
"You absolute menace—"
Harry barely managed to dodge as Sirius lunged for James, who yelped and darted across the room, laughing. Meanwhile, Peter remained completely dead to the world, still snoring away despite the chaos, while Remus—who one would expect to be the most responsible of them all—hadn’t even stirred.
Harry turned his head toward Remus’ bed, eyebrows raising when he saw the boy curled up beneath layers of blankets, completely cocooned.
"Remus," Harry called. No response.
James, mid-escape from a dripping-wet Sirius, noticed this as well and rolled his eyes. "Watch this," he said, dodging a swipe from Sirius before stepping toward Remus’ bed.
With the kind of determination only a Marauder could possess, James grabbed the edge of Remus’ blankets and yanked them away in one swift motion.
Remus let out a muffled growl—actually growled—before immediately curling up tighter, trying to disappear into his pillow.
"Come on, Moony, up you get!" James sing-songed, ignoring the sheer murderous aura radiating from his friend.
"No."
Harry was struggling not to laugh at this point. "I thought you were supposed to be the responsible one," he teased.
Remus cracked one eye open, glaring blearily. "Shut up, Harrison."
James snorted. "You leave me no choice." And with that, he clambered onto the bed, sitting directly on top of Remus’ legs.
Remus let out a pained groan. "James, move."
"Nope."
"Prongs, I swear—"
Sirius, who had finally recovered from his near-drowning experience, smirked. "Oh, this is rich. Mind if I join."
"Shut up, Black."
"Touchy."
Harry shook his head, grinning. "We’re going to be late if you lot keep this up."
James dramatically gasped. "You’re right! Come on, men, we have important academic responsibilities ahead!"
Sirius threw his pillow at him.
Eventually, after much grumbling, threats of bodily harm, and Peter still managing to remain asleep until the very last second, they all got dressed.
Harry moved through the motions quickly, still a little tired but more awake now thanks to the absolute disaster that was their morning routine. He fixed his tie in the mirror, glancing at his reflection. He looked well-rested enough—no one would question where he had been last night.
Tom’s words from earlier still lingered in his mind, but he pushed them aside for now. He had a long day ahead.
But as they left the dormitory for breakfast, his hands still felt cold.
---
Tom had hardly stepped into the Great Hall before Lucius Malfoy made his presence impossible to ignore.
The blonde slid into the seat beside him at the Slytherin table with practiced ease, his every movement deliberate. A moment later, Severus Snape settled across from them, his expression unreadable.
Tom did not acknowledge either of them immediately, instead focusing on the freshly delivered class schedules being distributed by Professor Slughorn. The Potions Master was making his way down the table, handing each student their parchment with a cheery greeting.
"Ah, Mister Avery!" Slughorn’s jovial voice interrupted Tom’s thoughts as he placed a neatly rolled scroll in front of him. "I still am rather impressed by your selections—quite the ambitious course load! But I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, given your extraordinary talents. And it seems you are settling in well having befriended Mister Malfoy and Snape"
Lucius, who had just received his own timetable, leaned slightly toward Tom, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Let me guess," he drawled. "You’ve overloaded yourself with everything?"
Tom didn’t rise to the bait, instead unrolling his parchment. Unlike lower years, where classes were divided by houses, N.E.W.T.-level courses were determined solely by subject, with students from all houses mixed together. Since fewer students went forward with each subject, class sizes were smaller, allowing for a more competitive environment.
His eyes flicked over his schedule, committing it to memory.
Monday
1st – Potions
2nd – Charms
3rd – Transfiguration
Lunch
4th – Defense Against the Dark Arts
5th – Arithmancy
Evening Class -
Ancient Runes
Lucius peered over his shoulder before pulling out his own timetable. "Ah," he mused, "looks like we’ll be suffering through Potions together. And Charms as well." He tilted his head slightly, considering. "Avery, I’m beginning to think fate enjoys throwing us together."
"Fate has nothing to do with it," Tom said blandly.
Lucius smirked. "No? I could almost have believe you had a preference for my company."
Snape let out a quiet breath of amusement, though he didn’t comment.
Tom, however, barely spared Lucius a glance. "I have a preference for Potions. You just happen to be an unfortunate addition."
Lucius laughed, entirely unbothered. "I do so love your sharp tongue, Avery. You’re the only person here who speaks to me that way."
"I wonder why," Tom said flatly.
"You intrigue me," Lucius replied smoothly, and there was something in his tone—something measured, deliberate.
Tom ignored him, reaching for his bag and pulling out the small enchanted notebook he had created the night before. With practiced ease, he flipped to a blank page and tapped his wand against it. His timetable copied itself onto the parchment in neat ink.
A moment later, new writing began to appear beneath his own.
1st – Potions
2nd – Free
3rd – Transfiguration
Lunch
4th – Defense Against the Dark Arts
5th – Charms
6th – Free
Tom watched as Harry’s schedule filled itself out in real-time from across the Great Hall. His gaze flickered as he took in the pattern—
They shared three classes together every day. Only Charms was different.
His fingers tightened slightly around the spine of the book before he closed it with a soft snap.
Lucius, who had been watching him with mild interest, finally spoke. "You’re noting it all down?" He sounded almost amused.
Tom didn’t look up. "Of course."
Lucius raised a brow, intrigued. "That’s... meticulous of you."
"Efficient," Tom corrected smoothly.
Lucius’s smirk widened. "Admirable, even," he murmured. "Avery, you never fail to impress me."
Tom barely spared him a glance.
Snape let out a quiet breath of amusement, shaking his head slightly.
Lucius, however, was still watching him. "You’re an interesting one," he mused, his tone laced with something unreadable. "Very, very interesting."
Tom ignored him, instead glancing toward the entrance of the Great Hall. Breakfast was nearly over, and soon, they would all be heading to their first class of the day.
Potions.
He allowed himself a small smirk.
This would be very interesting indeed.
---
Harry was relieved to have some familiarity as he made his way toward the Potions classroom. The Marauders walked beside him, James and Sirius bickering about something ridiculous while Remus looked half-awake. Lily had also joined them, chatting animatedly with Remus about the syllabus, while the rest of the Gryffindor girls had already peeled off to their respective lessons.
Surprisingly, Peter wasn't with them.
"You don’t have Potions?" Harry asked, glancing at him.
Peter shook his head. "Nah, Astronomy."
Harry raised a brow. "At this hour?"
Peter only shrugged. "N.E.W.T.-level classes are weird. They scheduled it at this time for some reason."
Harry hummed, barely listening. He was more interested in the fact that, apart from Peter, he’d have all the Marauders in Potions with him. That was really nice.
As Peter split off and they neared the classroom, Sirius threw an arm over Remus’ shoulder, grinning. "Moony, my good man, shall we?"
James clapped a hand over his heart, feigning betrayal. "I see how it is! The love of my life, choosing another over me!"
Lily rolled her eyes, shoving James lightly. "Stop being dramatic. You always partner with Sirius."
"Not always," James said. "Sometimes I partner with Moony—"
"—when I'm sick," Sirius finished for him.
Remus let out a small laugh.
James huffed. "Fine, fine, Moony, you can be with Lily. I suppose I’ll settle for Padfoot."
Remus hesitated, his gaze flickering toward Harry. "Er—"
"You don’t mind, do you, Harry?" Lily asked, smiling kindly.
Before Harry could even respond, she gestured toward the front of the classroom.
"Besides, I think you’re already covered."
Harry turned just in time to see Tom sit down, looking thoroughly at ease as he set his things on the table.
Harry grinned. He was quick. Before anyone could react, he darted forward and plopped into the empty seat beside Tom.
"Morning," he said, still grinning as he glanced at Tom, who was watching him with an odd look—his lips twitching as if suppressing amusement.
Harry blinked, confused. Then he turned—
—only to find Lucius Malfoy standing there, his expression perfectly blank but his eyes burning with irritation.
Harry had taken his seat.
Oh.
Harry blinked again, then tilted his head. "Oh—sorry, didn’t see you there."
Lucius’ nostrils flared ever so slightly before he exhaled through his nose, cool and controlled. Without another word, he turned sharply on his heel and stalked off, choosing a seat beside Snape instead.
Snape, for his part, simply sighed.
Harry, still blinking, turned back to Tom. "Was he…?"
Tom’s lips twitched again. "No idea what you’re talking about."
Harry narrowed his eyes at him suspiciously but let it go.
Whatever that was, it wasn’t his problem.
---
As the class settled, Harry turned to Tom with a smirk. "So, did you survive breakfast?"
Tom huffed, rolling his shoulders slightly as he adjusted his sleeves. "Barely. Lucius Malfoy is insufferable."
Harry raised an eyebrow, amused. "He seemed fine to me. What did he do?"
Tom exhaled through his nose, expression unreadable. "He exists."
Harry snorted. "Oh, the audacity."
Tom shot him a dry look but didn’t refute it.
Before they could continue, the heavy doors of the classroom swung shut, and Professor Slughorn strode in, his broad face beaming with enthusiasm. He carried a long scroll in one hand, which he set on his desk before addressing the class.
"Welcome, welcome, my finest N.E.W.T. students!" Slughorn’s voice carried easily across the room. "It is a delight to see so many bright minds gathered here today! Now, before we begin, a quick register—though I suspect I already know most of you."
He went through the names at a leisurely pace, pausing briefly when he reached Harry and Tom.
"Ah, Mister Evans!" Slughorn’s eyes twinkled with interest. "I must say, your name is quite familiar. Any relation to Lily Evans?"
Harry shook his head, keeping his expression neutral. "Not that I am aware of, sir."
Slughorn chuckled. "Well, if you share even a fraction of Miss Evans’ talent, I daresay we’ll be seeing great things from you!"
Harry smiled politely.
Slughorn then turned to Tom, his expression positively gleeful. "And you, my boy—Mister Avery! Already exceptional."
Tom merely inclined his head. "I strive for excellence, Professor."
Slughorn beamed. "Wonderful, wonderful!"
Once the register was complete, Slughorn clapped his hands together. "Now then! To start the year off properly, we will be brewing one of the most complex potions in existence—the Draught of Living Death!"
A murmur rippled through the room.
Slughorn chuckled. "Indeed, quite the challenge! But I have high hopes for this class. And to make things interesting, the student with the most exemplary potion will receive a rare vial of Veritaserum—a most precious prize!"
Harry grinned. He had brewed this potion before—in fact, he’d mastered it thanks to Snape’s annotations in the Half-Blood Prince’s book. He knew exactly how to perfect it.
Beside him, Tom’s expression remained impassive, though there was an unmistakable gleam in his eyes.
Harry rolled up his sleeves. "Ready?"
Tom smirked faintly. "Always."
With that, they set to work.
The classroom was soon filled with the scent of brewing potions, the soft clinking of glass vials, and the quiet muttering of students as they followed their instructions.
Harry worked swiftly, his hands moving with practiced ease as he prepared the ingredients. Though he had no Half-Blood Prince's notes to rely on this time, Snape’s instructions were practically ingrained in his memory. He crushed the bean rather than cutting it, stirring counter clockwise only when necessary.
Tom, meanwhile, worked with meticulous precision. His movements were slow, deliberate, and utterly flawless.
As their potions neared completion, Harry glanced down at his cauldron, satisfied. His potion was the perfect shimmering lilac, just as Snape had indirectly taught him. It was good.
Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tom add something.
A single, final adjustment—subtle, controlled.
And suddenly, his potion became completely clear.
As in invisible.
Harry blinked. "What did you—?"
Tom leaned in slightly, adding the same to Harry's, his voice barely above a whisper. "As great as your dear professor may have been…" His lips curved faintly. "He’s nothing compared to me."
Harry gaped at now his empty-looking potion, still utterly stunned.
Before he could respond, Slughorn made his rounds, stopping to examine each cauldron.
"Lily Evans—ah, marvellous, my dear! Your consistency is spot on."
He moved on, peering into Severus Snape’s cauldron. "Excellent work, Severus—truly outstanding. It may be a tie between you and Miss Evans!"
Then he reached Tom and Harry.
Slughorn frowned. "Where are your potions?"
Harry smirked. Reaching for a glass pipette, he carefully extracted a drop of liquid and let it fall onto the surface of the desk.
It spread perfectly, leaving behind a slight shimmer.
Slughorn stared.
Then, after a long moment, he laughed, utterly delighted. "My word! In all my decades of teaching, never have I seen such precision!" He clapped his hands together. "Truly, truly remarkable!"
The entire class turned to stare.
Slughorn looked ecstatic. "Both of you, my dear boys, are phenomenal! Phenomenal! I must say, I am beyond impressed!"
Harry felt a small surge of pride.
Tom, however, simply inclined his head, as though such praise was expected.
Slughorn grinned broadly. "Well, this is certainly an easy decision! Mister Avery, Mister Evans—congratulations! You shall both receive a vial of Veritaserum!"
Harry grinned.
Tom simply smirked.
Slughorn wasn’t finished. He turned to Harry, eyes twinkling. "Mister Evans, I insist you join my Slug Club! With talent like yours, I cannot possibly let you go unnoticed!"
Harry hesitated for only a moment internally groaning, before nodding. "Uh—sure, Professor. That’d be… great."
Slughorn beamed.
For the rest of the lesson, he continued to shower them with praise, singling them out as his most promising students yet.
As Slughorn practically glowed with enthusiasm over their work, the rest of the class had mixed reactions.
James, sitting nearby, grinned widely and leaned slightly toward them. "Merlin, that was brilliant—I knew you were good, Harrison, but both of you just wiped the floor with the rest of us!" His hazel eyes flicked to Tom, impressed. "Guess you really are as smart as you said, Thomas."
Tom simply inclined his head, ever composed. "Naturally."
Lily, who had just finished cleaning up her station, looked between them with something akin to awe. "I don’t think I’ve ever seen a perfect Draught of Living Death before. How did you—" She shook her head in amazement. "Both of you, that was—incredible."
Remus, standing beside her, nodded in agreement. "You made it look easy," he admitted.
Harry chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well, I might have had some help in the past." He shot Tom a look. "But he just went and showed me up at the last second."
Snape, who had been observing quietly and waiting for the marauders to disperse finally spoke up, his dark eyes sharp and inquisitive. "What did you add?" His voice was laced with an eagerness that betrayed his usual detached demeanor. "How did you make it turn invisible?"
Tom tilted his head slightly, as if considering whether or not to share the answer. Then, with a faint smirk, he said simply, "Ground-up mint leaves."
Snape’s brow furrowed. "Mint leaves?" He looked genuinely puzzled, glancing back at his own potion. "But—why? That’s not in any text I’ve read—"
Tom’s lips twitched. "Perhaps you should read more carefully."
Snape looked both frustrated and intrigued.
Lucius, who had been watching the exchange with crossed arms, let out a slow exhale. "Hmph." His tone was a mixture of admiration and mild annoyance. "As expected, I suppose. Though I must say, it’s rather grating to see you of all people outshone by someone new, Snape."
Snape scowled but didn’t argue.
Lucius’ gaze then flicked to Harry, eyes narrowing slightly.
Still, he inclined his head, his usual composure slipping back into place. "Well done, Evans," he said smoothly, though there was a hint of sulking in his tone. "It seems I may have underestimated you."
Harry blinked, not expecting the acknowledgment. "Uh… thanks?"
Lucius didn’t say anything more, instead turning back to Snape with a low sigh, muttering something about "unfair advantages."
Harry could feel the lingering eyes of the class on them, some impressed, some envious, some just outright stunned.
Tom, however, merely smirked, entirely unfazed by the attention.
---
As Harry stepped out of the Potions classroom, he immediately spotted Remus leaning casually against the stone wall, waiting for him. A grin tugged at Harry’s lips at the sight.
Remus, upon noticing him, smiled in return—only for his expression to shift slightly when he saw Tom emerge from the classroom as well. For a moment, Remus hesitated, then, as if steeling himself, he offered another smile, this one more tentative.
"Hey," he said, directing it at Tom this time. "I just realized… I never actually introduced myself properly." He rubbed the back of his neck, looking slightly sheepish. "I mean, we met obviously, but I never really said—"
"You’re Remus Lupin," Tom supplied smoothly, as if he had committed the name to memory long ago. "Gryffindor Prefect."
Remus’ smile turned a little wry. "That does seem to be my defining trait, doesn’t it?" He huffed a quiet laugh before continuing. "But James talked about you all summer, and, well… I think we’d get along."
For a brief moment, Tom simply studied him, as if assessing whether or not this was worth his time. Then, with a faint nod, he said, "I suppose we shall see."
Harry rolled his eyes. "He means yes."
Tom hummed noncommittally, but there was a glimmer of amusement in his gaze.
"Where are you off to now?" Remus asked.
"Charms," Tom replied, glancing down the corridor.
Harry perked up. "Oh, Remus and I have a free now—we could walk you there."
Tom, however, shook his head. "That won’t be necessary." His tone was light, but final.
Before Harry could argue, he overheard snippets of conversation from a group of Hufflepuffs nearby.
"—Durmstrang’s arriving soon. Should be interesting."
"Yeah, always is. Wonder how many are coming this time?"
Remus hummed in understanding. "Oh yeah, it’s about that time, isn’t it? They usually stay until Christmas. The sixth and seventh years did go last year after all."
Harry blinked. "What?" He turned to Remus, then to Tom, who seemed equally surprised but kept his expression schooled into indifference.
Remus frowned. "Oh you probably aren't aware. It happens every year. It changes every year with one year Hogwarts going Durmstrang and next Durmstrang going Hogwarts. Only the sixth and seventh years are allowed to travel though."
Tom stayed silent, but Harry while baffled replied." That's cool I just didn’t expect it, that’s all."
Remus looked a little confused at their reaction but let it slide.
To Tom, however, this was worth noting. In there time, Hogwarts had never hosted Durmstrang students for an extended stay like this. If this happened every year in this timeline, that meant the circumstances had shifted drastically. He tucked the thought away for later, making a mental note to investigate further
Before they could continue the conversation, Lucius and Snape exited the Potions classroom behind them, lingering just a few steps away.
Lucius’ sharp gaze flickered over Remus with clear disdain before turning to Tom. "You do realize what you’re doing, don’t you?" His voice was smooth but edged with disapproval.
Snape, standing beside him, crossed his arms and muttered, "Gryffindors," as if the word itself was foul. "I don’t see why you waste your time with them, Avery. They’re all the same—arrogant, foolish, and utterly insufferable." His dark eyes flickered to Harry with particular distaste.
Tom didn’t respond immediately. He merely cast them a sidelong glance, expression unreadable, before stepping forward. Without another word, he strode past them, heading toward his next class.
Harry and Remus watched him go before turning back to the two Slytherins.
"Charming as ever, the both of you," Harry said, voice deliberately light but eyes flashing.
Snape sneered but didn’t retort, likely because Lucius had already started walking away, clearly done with the conversation.
Remus sighed. "That went well."
Harry snorted.
They exchanged glances before turning toward the library, the tension of the moment fading as they settled into easy conversation.