Chapter III
"I love you like an alcoholic."
Harry found his day being occupied by a very energetic little girl bouncing and beaming at everything that caught her eye and his long-term enemy; who surprisingly had not tried anything like possesing harry or making some insult about his parents to rile him up.
Yet.
"Harry look! What's that?" Florence asked, in awe, her face pressed onto a window; from which Tom gave a disapproving look for her to be so close to 'such a flithy surface'.
"It's a broom, for quidditch. If you think it's cool you can try out in a few years." Harry answered, smiling as he saw her eyes light up even more.
"That'd be cool but," Her eyes flickered from excitement into a look of disappointment, "I'm a girl, girls don't do quidditch."
Harry shook his head, he had forgotton what time period he was in, girls didn't start being let on quidditch teams until the 1949.
Well, harry thought, atleast Florence will still be in hogwarts to see that change happen.
"You wish to play quidditch, flora?" Tom had been quiet during their outing, only commenting on a few things occasionally, when the time was right.
"I'm not allowed to."
Tom hummed for a second, before letting his eyes fall back onto the girl infront of him, crouching down to meet her eye.
"You want to though do you not?"
"Yes but-"
"Well then, I'll make sure you find a spot on that team." Tom gave her a smile, harry had never seen him smile so much in one hour then he had the first two weeks of being in the same classes and the same house as him; not to mention sleeping almost right next to eachother.
"Yay!" Florence wrapped her arms around Tom, and to harry's suprise, he hugged her back, gently ofcourse, with grace, Tom did everything with such grace didn't he?
"Thank you, Uncle Tom! Thank you so much!" Tom just gave her a pat on the shoulder and urged her to carry on walking as they were blocking the way for other people behind them.
"Uncle?" Harry couldn't stop himself from asking, why was a first year student, who had only been sorted two weeks ago calling Tom Riddle her Uncle?
"Hm?" Tom turned to him, a somewhat warm expression on his face, it suprised harry how sweet-looking Tom could be, even if it was for just a few seconds.
"Florence, she called you 'Uncle Tom'."
"Ah yes," Tom turned to glance a look at Florence who was a few paces infront of them before returning his focus onto harry, "She needs to get rid of that horrid habit."
"Why does she call you it though? There has to be a reason." Harry grumbled, was Tom being purposely vague with him? Was he hiding something?
Ofcourse he was, you daft dimbo, he's Tom Riddle.
"My late mother was friends with Flora's mother, and so she sees me as sort of her uncle in a way because of it."
"Oh."
Harry almost felt sympathic towards Tom, he knew his mother had tricked Tom's father into drinking a love potion, but his life seemed a bit lonely; his mother not showing him any attention and his father not wanting him.
But then again, it was Tom Riddle.
Why was he feeling pity towards the future dark lord that would ruin his life?
What was wrong with harry to be speaking to him; having a causal conversation with the man who would start a war?
It all seemed so normal and easy, almost. Walking side by side with the devil.
"Abraxas would like to know if you enjoy quidditch, or have any talent in the sport at all?" Tom's voice never failed to lower harry's walls down instantly, it was so...majestic? In a way.
Was it naturally like that? Or had he spent months creating it? Perfecting it? To make people do his bidding? Like orion who never once spoke up against him? No one ever did speak against Tom, minus harry but that hadn't happened in a public setting, yet.
What would Tom do if harry openly defined his opinions that were so clearly the opposite of Tom's own?
"I like playing it." He said instead of voicing all his thoughts that were whirling around inside his head, waiting to burst.
Not yet. Something whispered inside him.
"Do you have an idea of which postion you would like to play?" Tom questioned more, and harry noticed his lips seemed to perk up at his response.
"Seeker." He responded, instantly, it was a reflex, after years of playing the postion it came naturally to him.
Bad things happen to wizards who mess with time.
Would securing a postion on the slytherin quidditch team change the future all together? How much would it change? Could he risk it?
"I mean, I used to play seeker with my friends." He quickly added on, not wanting to seem like he wanted a postion on the team even if he did want one, he couldn't risk it.
"Would you like to play as seeker?" He had asked the question so causally, that harry almost blurted out a 'yes' before stopping himself completely.
"I don't think so." The words stung harry's heart, ofcourse he wanted to play, quidditch was the one thing that calmed him from everything and everyone.
When hermione was chiding him and ron for not doing homework and Ron was busy complaining about hermione, harry could suggest playing quidditch and everything fell silent.
"Are you quite sure harrison?" His tone seemed concerned but that couldn't be. Tom was manipulating him; trying to look concerned in reality he didn't care.
"I-"
"Harry!" He heard his name call behind him, he ignored it continuing to push his broom up.
Higher. Faster. Higher.
"C'mon." Harry muttered under his breath, his fingers outstreched racing after the golden ball infront of him, so close.
Now. Now. Now.
"The snitch has been caught!''
"Harry?"
Harry blinked, facing Tom who was staring into his eyes with a look of confusion and worry? No. That wasn't it, probably just his own imagination.
"I'm sorry, what did you say?" Tom just shook his head and smiled at harry.
That most manipulating charming handsome smile-no, no.
Nope.
Not handsome.
Not charming.
Evil.
Yes, evil.
"Tom!" Florence skipped over to the two, a mischievous smile playing on her lips, "A most beautiful girl is asking for you."
Both the boys looked up, to see where Florence had come from, and more importantly; who this 'beautiful girl' who wanted Tom was.
"Ah."
"Is that-?"
"Good afternoon, Tom, I haven't seen you in so long, how do you do?" Lucretia Black asked Tom after they had approached her.
Harry was fully aware that she was the older sister of Orion and the eldest child of the Black family; she looked strangely not like orion at all, or like the other Black's; harry had met or been told of.
She let her brunnete locks flow down her back, not caring much to 'tame' it whatsoever. Lucretia also apparently wished to be addressed as Lucy and not her full title unlike walburga or orion.
Tom pressed his lips onto the back of her hand, in which, harry swore he saw the slightest shade of pink spring up to Lucy's cheeks as he looked up to meet her eyes before letting her hand go.
"Pleasant, how have you been Lucretia?"
Tom's tone was still smooth and soft as ever, but there was more of a charm to it you could say, but that was expected.
Tom riddle had been a charmer in his years in hogwarts, especially to the ladies of the pureblood society. That's how he got to where he is. His status in his school years came from admiration and fear.
"Tom dislikes her." Florence had stepped closer to him, observing the interactions between the Black heirness and Tom.
"What do you mean?"
"She has a strong dislike for mudbloods, well in public, but its rumoured that she has slept with one. Tom thinks she's a hypocrite."
Harry was a little taken aback by the way Florence had said mudbloods with such venom, because according to most of the slytherins in their house; she was a muggleborn too.
"Stop doing that with your face, it does not suit you." She seemed to have taken notice of harry's perplexed expression on his face as she giggled slightly at it.
"I'm sorry, it's just I thought, are you-?"
Florence looked up at him expectantly, waiting for him to finish his question. She didn't take well to 'people who wasted time'.
"Are you not a muggleborn aswell?" Harry heard florence's breath sharpen as her skin went slightly pale as she sneered.
"You thought I was a pathetic mudblood?"
The rest of the trip to hogsmeade was awkward and the tension was painfully obvious. Florence made sure to be on Tom's right side so she would not have to face harry; she was offended harry considered her to be so 'dirty'.
And harry did not think he wanted to be by her either, he was conflicted and confused beyond belief. He loathed having to be so close to Tom, however, with his observing eyes all over him.
Lestrange accused Florence of being a muggleborn, and she had not said a word about it? Did she not hear it? Was she oblivious to most if not all the house calling her a mudblood?
Harry knew that she had obviously gained some confidence since the start of the term but she never disclosed any signs of her having any opinions on muggleborns-blood purity.
Tom did not notice anything amiss and if he did he did not voice or address it.
Instead he handed Florence a card with swoopy cursive writing and the black crest symbol on it.
"Tom, harry thought I was a mudblood!" Florence complained, whispering to Tom when she thought harry was not listening. Though it was barley a whisper she had practically yelled it.
"It was an honest mistake Florence, he must have heard it from Lestrange, you must forgive him, won't you?" That was the first time since Florence had arrived that Tom had used her full name.
She muttered something harry didn't catch, and after a few moments of silence and loud mumbles harry had to pretend he didn't hear, he excused himself from the pair.
Tom bid him fairwell, and Florence just pointedly nodded her head in his direction.
As harry turned, he heard Tom comment on how 'he'd hope they'd get the chance to speak again' which made harry's blood run cold and even from infront of him, harry could hear the smirk in Tom's voice.
Harry took off his scarf, and shoved it inside his trunk before sliding it close with a smack.
He was about to push it beneath his bed once more before something caught his attention, and he decided to put a charm on it just incase.
He lived with slytherins for goodness sake and he had only just now thought of to put a charm over his trunk? He was such an idiot.
You're a slytherin now too, or did you forget that? A voice crept inside his mind, hissing at his words.
He was a slytherin in the house of snakes, just how the hat wanted to place him in first year the first time he was sorted.
He stepped inside the bathroom, locking the door behind him and splashing water onto his face.
Harry wondered deep down how his years would've gone if he allowed the hat to put him in slytherin.
Would he have still been accused of being a dark lord in the making? Voldemorts puppet?
Would it have been worse? Sleeping next to Malfoy and having to share a table with Parkinson and Nott and the other slytherins he hated during his years?
Now you sleep directly next to Riddle and share a table with Lestrange and the Black's. The familiar hiss sounded in his head again.
Perhaps he was going mental too? Hearing a snake-like-hiss in his head? Who contradicted every thought he had?
Deep down, the hiss was harry's. And it was all true.
He was a slytherin now.
He was sharing a room with the first ever deatheaters and the dark lord himself.
A knock on the bathroom door shook him out of his thoughts and as he placed his hand around the handle ready to unlock and open it, a piece of parchment was slipped under the door.
Harry picked it up, was this a trick? A prank of some sort by the slytherin boys?
Instead it simply wrote:
"I apologise if I offended you today, I didn't wish too. Uncle Tom told me about your parentage. I apologise for my vulgar language, I would like to apologise in person but Tommy said I should write first instead. "
P.s - Call me Fi.
Tommy, huh?