where harry runs into everyone (literally)
Tom Riddle woke up early on the day of the start of the school year. He got up, walked to the bathroom and opened up the tap for a bath. He was already thinking about the new student. Tom had concluded last night that the boy must be lying about his past, though for whatever reason he had yet to figure out.
He got in the bath and considered the possible causes. Perhaps Taylor was a follower of Grindelwald and a practitioner of the more dangerous dark arts? That would certainly be enough of a taboo to hide, though Tom doubted Dumbledore would let him in the school if that was the case. Not Grindelwald, then. Heritage was his best guess, for now. If the boy was muggle born, or even a half-blood, it would make sense for him to hide it considering the house he had been put in. (Tom himself would have given almost anything to even have the chance to hide that part of himself.)
Whatever the reason, Tom would have to keep an eye on Alan Taylor.
As he got out of the bathroom, he of course almost ran into the boy. Tom's wand flew into his hand on pure reflex, and he was surprised to see the student's actions mirroring him.
Taylor looked disheveled, his eyes a little wild and his breathing ragged. The fact that he had likely just woken up added to the picture, with his hair even more of a mess than the day before and his glasses absent.
"Jesus..." the boy muttered and lowered his wand, though he didn't move his strikingly green eyes off of Tom. Tom did the same and put his wand back into its holster. He noted Taylor's very much muggle way of cursing, only adding to his ongoing theory.
"I apologise, I wasn't watching where I was going," Tom said humbly, and to his surprise the student broke into a sardonic smile. He didn't explain his amusement, just nodded and walked into the now empty bathroom.
Tom glanced at the bathroom door and sat on his bed. A little bemused at the reaction he had gotten, he took out Advanced Potion Making, and read until Taylor reappeared from the bathroom. He was now in his school robes and his hair was slightly less messy.
The boy stopped in his tracks when he took note of Tom and opened his mouth to speak, but then closed it without words.
"It is my duty as a prefect to guide new students on their first days. Shall we go to the Great Hall for breakfast?" Tom said as he closed the book he had been reading.
Taylor nodded, wearing an unreadable expression. Which was surprising in itself, since usually Tom prided himself in his ability to read pretty much anyone. This was interesting. The boy was definitely hiding something.
They got out of the dorms in silence, Tom leading and Taylor following a few steps behind. As they walked through the Slytherin common rooms, Tom spoke, "As it is mandatory for attendance in our sixth year classes, I presume you've taken your O.W.L.s?"
"Yes, I took them," Taylor answered almost derisively as they walked out the entrance, into the dungeons. He didn't elaborate, and clearly didn't want to expand the interaction from light small talk to anything of meaning. Again, he was trying to suppress information.
"Which ones, if I may ask?" Tom inquired carefully. He kept his eyes forward, but saw from his peripheral vision that Taylor's expression didn't change. In fact, he seemed completely relaxed, as if he didn't have anything to hide. He was unnaturally contradictory.
"I took all of them."
Tom hid his surprise. He kept his expression neutral, kept walking at the same speed, and kept his voice level as he answered, "Everything? Do you plan on continuing to study them all as well?"
Taylor shrugged nonchalantly. "Probably not. I presume this year will be a lot more demanding, so I likely will be dropping at least Divination."
They walked down the marble staircase. "Not Care of Magical Creatures?" Tom asked.
Through the Entrance Hall, and into the Great Hall. Taylor seemed to contemplate for a moment.
"Might have to drop that one too," he admitted with a small grimace, like the thought of it pained him. Did Alan Taylor really enjoy the horrible subject?
"Do you have a liking for the subject?" he asked with as polite a tone of voice he could muster. Though, he suspected he might've accidentally let through some of his aversion, if the way Taylor was eyeing him was any indication. The boy responded, "Do you not? I find it quite interesting."
They sat down in the Slytherin table, the breakfast food already in front of them. There weren't any people in the hall besides them.
Tom tried for a reassuring tone of voice as he said, "Of course I think it necessary to get a certain education in order to handle a magical creature correctly. But to study it for more than two years would, in my opinion, be unnecessary."
Taylor nodded. "I suppose you're right," he paused, and his lips twitched as another thought seemed to come to him, "Although I wouldn't estimate two years enough time for your average student."
The hidden meaning behind those words rang loud and clear. But you're not an average student, are you? There was a grin playing on Taylor's lips and Tom wondered if the boy was being genuine, or if he was trying to get to his good graces.
Either way, Taylor was of course joking, so Tom forced a smile to his lips while he contemplated the boy's intentions.
For the rest of the meal they kept up the small-talk and discussed the different school subjects. Taylor seemed to be pleased with every one of them except for divination. Tom found himself surprised at how much opinions on academics they shared. Though on occasion, their views did differ slightly.
"There are real Seers, although rare, who do see the future," Tom pointed out. Taylor nodded, but with a slight frown in his face.
His voice was nonetheless calm, as he responded, "I know that. But that just proves my point. Teaching Divination is completely contradictory and pointless, if only those with the Sight can use it."
Tom raised an eyebrow. The boy had points, but he was missing some. "But what about those children, who do have the gift? They would either not get to use the full potential of their power, or never learn that they have it in the first place. How can they recognise they have the Sight, if not through the subject?"
Taylor opened his mouth to answer but stopped before he got a word out. He was staring behind Tom with his eyebrows raised.
"Professor Dumbledore. Good morning."
Tom raised his own eyebrows and turned slightly in his chair to look at the professor. He nodded at the man and said respectfully, "Good morning, sir."
Dumbledore didn't acknowledge him in the slightest, instead keeping his gaze firmly on Taylor as he stated, "Good morning. I was wondering if I could have a word with you."
Tom felt his blood boil at the man's blatant rudeness and turned back around in his chair. He, at least, had the decency to pretend to tolerate the man. Though, he took in the slight down-twitch in Taylor's smile with curiosity. Perhaps he wasn't the only one with aversions against the man.
"Of course, sir," the other student nodded and looked one more time at Tom. "I'll see you later, I presume?"
"Of course," Tom replied and stood up. He walked away without a glance at Dumbledore and at the entrance heard Taylor ask, "What did you want to talk about, professor?"
He walked out of the Great Hall, but just as he turned the corner, stopped to cast a disillusionment charm on himself and soundlessly edged closer to the entrance. He then cast a sound amplifying charm of his own creation, careful to cast it only on the surrounding air and not at the men themselves, lest they notice. It was designed specifically for listening in on conversation, so anyone but the caster would not notice the effects.
Dumbledore's voice came through without problem, as the man spoke with seemingly genuine concern, "I need to warn you about something."
Tom's suspicions were confirmed at that moment.
"Yes, professor?"
"I know you of course will want to make new friends in your new school, but I would advice you to avoid Tom Riddle."
"If I may ask, sir, why?"
Tom crept away from the doorway and cancelled his disillusionment charm when he was a good ten meters away. He was filled with such blinding hot rage that he had to clench his hands into fists so as to not blow anything up accidentally.
He took a deep breath in and let it out slowly. As he did, he relaxed his hands and let his expression melt into a pleasant one.
Then he made his way to the Room of Hidden Things.
When he reached the room, he was still in such a rage that he could feel his own magic thrumming against his skin. It was nothing he hadn't experienced before, he could feel his own magical core more often than not, but never before had it been to this extent.
He walked past piles of variety of objects, not paying them much attention, and tried to figure out why he was having such a strong reaction.
It wasn't of course a regular day in his life without a little hatred against Dumbledore, but usually he could keep his calm. The only variable in this situation had been Alan Taylor. And perhaps that was the thing that had pushed him over the edge -not the boy personally of course, but the presence of another human being. Normally, Dumbledore would at least keep his qualms to himself, but now he had had to go on and share them.
Something blew up behind him, but he barely paid it mind.
Yes, that would probably be it. He would just need to release all this magic brimming in him, and then he would be back to normal.
He looked at a couch next to him with a small grimace. It burst into flames.
~
Harry bit the inside of his cheek to silence himself. He was filled with a sudden and all-encompassing urge to curse Dumbledore -either with a spell, or verbally- and honestly doubted his own self-restraint.
"I'll see you later, professor," he said with an impressively even voice, and an undoubtedly fake smile. With the professor's gaze burning through his back, he walked out of the Great Hall.
To run straight into someone. (What was it with him running into everyone today?)
He stumbled a step back and balanced himself with a hand on the closed door. As he took a look at who he had crashed into, he was shocked to recognise the man.
"Excuse me, sir. I wasn't watching where I was going," he said with a humble smile- and was immediately reminded of Tom saying almost the exact same thing to him earlier that morning. Lo and behold, he was learning from the master of manipulation himself.
The relatively young Slughorn only broke into a grin and waved away his apology. "No worries, young lad, it's alright. I'm the potion master of Hogwarts and the head of house for Slytherin. Now, I don't think I've seen you before. You wouldn't be the new student, would you?"
Harry nodded with a boyish grin. "Yes, that would be me, Professor."
There was a worryingly hungry glint in Slughorn's eyes as he spoke. "I didn't get your name, what was it again?"
"Alan Taylor, sir"
Harry really was sorry to disappoint the man with his obviously muggle name, but at the same time felt a surge of satisfaction watching the man's face drop.
"Slughorn. Ah, well, it was nice meeting you Mr Taylor, I'll be seeing you later," the professor spoke with increasingly less interest, and Harry barely had the time to nod before he was being brushed past. He stood for a few seconds just processing and then shook his head a little and continued up the marble staircase.
It was barely noon so, he would have plenty of time to examine the school in detail before other students would be arriving. He decided to start his venture with a trip to the library, mostly because he could already feel signs of boredom dawning in on him.
As he opened the door to the space, he was met with books upon books on shelves. He was surprised to also notice sections he had never seen before.
He took a step forward and walked up to the closest aisle of books he didn't recognise. When he read the titles, he immediately realised why he hadn't seen them before.
They were all about dark magic.
Not anything hazardous, or else they would no doubt be in the Restricted section, but the fact that the titles of the books even mentioned anything leaning on dark, implied that Dumbledore hadn't gotten his hands on the library yet.
Harry felt a conflicting surge of relief that the man hadn't yet expanded his power over the school, and a equally strong feeling of guilt at feeling it. The mere fact that these books were allowed anywhere near students, was what all started this mess. Yet, Harry couldn't help but wonder if Dumbledore's hatred and neglect were even bigger factors in shaping Tom to become Voldemort.
He took one book off the shelf and started reading.
It was about the basics of dark magic. What Harry noticed as he kept reading, was that it was veritably more tame than he had expected. Most of the spells and magic introduced could be easily mistaken for any light magic, and the longer he kept reading, the more confused he got.
His own perception of dark magic, although limited, had been that dangerous curses and spells were dark magic, point-blank. His interest piqued, he picked up other books on the subject and sat down on a table.
He spent the next hours reading. By the time he had read the first few books, he was thoroughly taken aback and starting to doubt every thing he thought he knew about dark and light magic.
See, his perception of magic had been apparently very limited (no doubt due to the lack of education, or even books available on the subject). Dark didn't mean harmful, and neither did light good.
Truthfully, the only thing that mattered in the big picture was intent. All magic was capable of harm, and the same way improvement. The only thing the 'lightness' of magic indicated was the core of that magic cast. People with more dark cores were more capable of dark magic and same vice versa.
This simple new fact complicated things a lot.
First of all, his entire view on the politics of Magical Britain were based on opposing dark magic, as he had thought it meant magic that was harmful. His whole life had been dedicated to (more or less with his consent) turning over the dark and bringing in the light. And while he still felt distaste for most of the dark magic users he had encountered, he had been undeniably acting very ignorant.
Secondly, he felt even more than before a rapidly growing dislike for Dumbledore, for he was now sure the man was the reason for his ignorance. That in itself brought up unsavory feelings of the past, of being left in the dark and just expected to survive.
Of course he still thought that the way dark magic most of the time was used was undoubtedly baleful, but shoving people into boxes based on the way they were born was what he so opposed in Voldemort himself. A person born with a dark magical core could no more help the fact than a muggle born with no magic.
Lastly, there came the problem of finding out his own magical core. Leaving it a mystery was obviously out of question. No way would he be able to live without the truth about the literal core of his magic, and moreover himself. He knew he would most likely be a light wizard, with his father's bloodline being known for the kind, but just as well could he be a neutral one.
He would need to do more research to be able to solve all these problems, research much more thorough than the few introductory books he had read. That would have to wait though. He had already wasted most of the day away, and it was pure luck that had kept Tom Riddle from finding him in this time.
He cast a quick tempus, and would you guess it, it was already well into the afternoon. It wouldn't be but a few hours until the other students would arrive.
Replacing the books in their respective places, he took off back down into the dungeons.
When he arrived at the common rooms, he was surprised not to find Tom there. For some reason, he had thought that the boy had gone there when he left the Great Hall that morning, but he was nowhere in sight.
Harry sighed, and walked into their dorm. There he took out his wand and tried to will his hair into something less of a mess with just the power of his magic. He found that most of the time spells specifically designed for things didn't work on him nearly as well as just his magic on its own. That was probably quite unusual, but he felt that his magic was harder to control, more wild and fierce than was expected when the spells were designed. That had its own benefits; consequence of that, non-verbal magic came to him very naturally without the need to specify with too much detail, as well as wandless magic with its need for pure power.
When he decided he'd succeeded okay enough, he left the room and walked back into the common rooms. There he took a look at the wall of bookshelf. He would probably have to wait for Tom to come from wherever he had gone, as they had talked about meeting later. Although, if the boy didn't arrive any time soon, he would have to proceed into the Great Hall by himself, as the Start of the Year Feast would begin.
He took out a book in random and started reading.
By the time the door to the common rooms opened, it was but ten minutes until the feast would start. Harry took one look at Tom and immediately noticed something amiss. There was of course nothing wrong physically, Harry doubted the Prefect could look anything but impeccable, but the tense set of the boy's shoulders gave him away.
"Good evening. Shall we go up to the feast?"
Harry got up and nodded, "Yes, that would be a good idea."