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Chapter Text

"Man makes plans . . . and God laughs."

―Michael Chabon

Harry couldn't help but find it all funny in a way.

How the tables had turned so suddenly- right was now wrong and wrong was right. So many things had changed so quickly, lives ended. Lives created. Harry had learned there was more than one way to die, and there were definitely worse things than death.

Cold. Everything was so cold.

Without...without them it felt as if there was a constant dementor beside him, a chronic black cloud of misery that just didn't stop and didn't get any easier as time passed by.

Nonono. It got worse. And worse.

Harry had thought he felt pain when he grew up as an orphan. Raised underneath the rough fists and uncaring words of the Dursley's. The sharp stabs ofwantwantwant that seeing his parents' faces left him with. Thought he knew all about pain. Then he saw Cedric die. And he knew he had known nothing.

Watching another take his last breath-the light's leave his eyes. It was nothing like in the movies. He remembered the fear and the desperation to dosomething anything to undo what had been done- and he blamed himself. Blamed himself for being selfish.

Selfish enough to not want to steal the Triwizard cup from the real Hogwarts champion. To not be in the spotlight all the time. He remembered the nightmares that summer... they had never been worse, but that might've been helped by that bastard being up and about.

Harry could scarcely remember a time where He hadn't been around, yet those days had never been clearer ever before.

So all the anger, rage, and hatred that he had for himself and his weakness was shoved at the people around him, a way to not only protect himself but tosave them. From himself.

But it wasn't to be. The one person he kept, the one person he was selfish with, well...they died. Gone.

Dead.

And Harry remembered-oh he remembered quite clearly- how he had yelled, how he had tried to warn him...and that had cost him. Cost...Sirius. His first and only father-figure. An adult he could actually trust. A blast of green light, light that he remembered in the darkest of nightmares with a cold red stare, snuffed him out. Just like that. And when Harry casted the most evil of spells at the one who had stolen from him, well, the pleasure that ran down his spine was something he dared not even admit to himself.

So the tally chart was gifted with one more mark. Another mark of his failure and weakness. And Harry vowed it would never happen again. That he would bestronger, better than ever before and save those he loved. He would no longer be selfish.

But it's hard to fight the need, the want to have something of your own. So when Malfoy schemed of a way to allow Voldemort's minions into Hogwarts, he didn't try to stop him. He enjoyed his time at Hogwarts and played games, learned new things. Crushed on girls he knew he'd never be with. Joked as if there would be a tomorrow.

And he was happy. For once he felt good.

And then they entered and it was torn away. Forever.

That day still haunted Harry like nothing else. He now knew that things could always be worse and wasn't that such a joke? That he finally realized his mistakes when it was too late to rectify them? That he wanted to do something when that chance had already been stolen from him?

They had come on October 31st. When spirits were high and awareness was low. Harry distinctly remembered that when they came running into the Great Hall he'd been chewing on the last part of his favorite food- treacle tart.

He didn't like treacle tart anymore.

They had slaughtered them. The teachers tried...but against that many highly skilled witches and wizards you just couldn't protect a mass population. They had locked the doors immediately, their eyes gleaming and teeth shining like rabid dogs.

...Surrender now and you shan't be touched. Surrender, and no magical blood need be spilt.  Do not force my hand, for Lord Voldemort does not forgive. Or forget...

It had been rather practical the way they dealt with it. No matter how fearsome their expressions, they were dogs. And dogs followed Master's orders. Of course it didn't start out that way...first the teachers attacked. Spells were sent from either side, many students being caught in the crossfire.

Eventually the spells on the doors were broken down and students ran free, tears falling from their fear-filled eyes. Screams echoed throughout the halls...and Harry was afraid. For if they had entered here, where on Earth was safe?

So they ran away, desperately trying to find a way out. Teacher after teacher fell to the hands of the Dark, some quickly and others...slowly. The fight seemed to last forever, but eventually their numbers dwindled until there was no choice.

Hogwarts could not be saved.

His...his home had been stolen. Taken from him.

All the happy times...everything decent about his life. Tarnished. Made unclean by a sadistic psychopath.

And for what? War? To win?

There were no winners in war. Just survivors.

And Harry didn't even know if the survivors were the winners anymore.

Not everyone he cared for had died at the battle. No, Hermione and Ron made it out with him, along with Neville and a few other Gryffindors, along with many other children Harry didn't know and didn't care to know.

To be honest, Harry really hadn't lost anyone at the Battle. Except his home of course. But Harry could accept that.

Home was where the heart was and if his heart was with anyone it was with his two best friends, the two most important people in his life. He wasn't the only one who knew that though. Yes, his love was a weakness he knew that, but he couldn't stop it now. No. He just couldn't.

And that was his mistake. Allowing himself to be selfish AGAIN.

He knew it was wrong, wrong to rely on them- to not want to be alone all the time. To not want to face death and destruction without one of their brilliant faces to remind him why this was worth it. Why it was alright to end the lives of those he didn't even know.

They faced so many battles together, learned the most powerful light spells that cut through their dark shields like butter. Together they were unstoppable.

Then Ron died.

It had been pretty anticlimactic actually. It wasn't even mid-battle. No, it was after, after they had one. It had been a routine sweep through Diagon. While Hogsmeade and Hogwarts had been taken long before then, Diagon Alley had remained there's. A refuge for those not wishing to submit under His wrath.

You didn't have to join, just be neutral and you were welcome.

But the Death Eaters had snuck their way in, ambushing them like the cunning snakes they were. But the Light was strong, and they obliterated them. But not all. While cleaning up, a single Death Eater had sent a silent cutting curse at Ron. Straight across his throat- red blood making his ginger locks look dull in comparison.

Harry remembered the feel of the crimson liquid splashing across his face.

Beside him Hermione had screamed utterly horrified at what had occurred. She rushed through all the numerous healing spells they had all learned, whispering many even he didn't know. But he didn't care. Ron...Ron was gone.

He knew the second that blood had splattered and he caught Ron's glance for- for the last time. Those cornflower blue eyes had flickered, and died out immediately after, showing that their light was gone.

Gone forever.

And Harry didn't cry, he didn't shed a tear. No, he strode straight to the vermin responsible and pummeled him until his face was unrecognizable and he began to choke on his own spit and blood.

And then he crunched his neck with his foot, not sparing him a second glance.

He now stood alone. Eyes bright and unfeeling, his face no longer bruised, but dirt and blood covering it still. His soft leather boots made no sound as he crossed the wet sidewalk, rain splattering harshly on himself and the ground. The rain and gloomy atmosphere reflected his inner self too well, and he found himself sneering.

He couldn't even pretend he was happy? That he was just taking a short stroll before making his way home to his family? No, that would be too good for the great Harry Potter.

He kicked a stone in his path half-heartedly, the sneer slipping from his features like the rain from his chin.

What a joke. The Great Harry Potter. Savior of the Wizarding World. Ha bloody ha.

A giggle almost forced it's way from his mouth, but merely came as a soft sigh, betraying what he felt within. He was just so tired. After so many months of constant fighting, constant death- he just needed something else. Somewhere to properly grieve.

So far he had held back...first with-with Ron, he had stayed strong for Herm-her, so she could let it out. Because she deserved it. And it had been fine. They worked well together, both untiring in their dedication to end the Monster who had taken everything from them. Their lives, their happiness, their freedom.

Yes, they worked well together.

They hadn't talked, no not with the obvious hollow space between them. Their missing piece. The loss.

They never talked about what had happened, or even about anything remotely personal. Everything was about the war. And that's how they liked it. But just a few short weeks ago...well. Harry regretted not talking to her now.

But the past was the past and here was now and Harry refused to wallow in the guilt and sadness. Not until his job was done.

So he continued walking, his sudden determination quickening his stride and tightening his hands into fists within his coat. He banished such thoughts from his mind, dark eyes ever moving ever watching for the dangers around him. He had left without words to his fellow fighters, not wanting to face their desperate eyes, begging him to save them.

Snake-face had realized their plan to destroy all his horcruxes long beforehand, destroying their main plan, their only salvation, as if it was just a mildly annoying fly, easily dispatched of. He collected his remaining ones and put them in Hogwarts. Making them completely untouchable.

They had spies though...and Harry knew exactly where the arrogant bastard would keep them. A place he believed impenetrable. And of course he would leave them all in one place. Idiot.

So Harry had sent one of the spies with a recording of his voice while he continued with his own mission. He was confident that they would succeed in either destroying it with fiendfyre, or at least bringing them all back to the base. Yes, his plan would be successful. It was only the after he was worried about.

His thoughts were swept to the side without effort though at the sight before him.

Godric's Hollow.

Harry's eyes blinked tiredly, his inner awe not able to trudge its way through the months of sadness, guilt, and utter tiredness that lay upon him like bars on a jail cell. His sudden stop abruptly returned to a quick walk, but even he could not ignore the sight of his parent's gravestones for the first time. No matter how he felt.

His knees gave out from beneath him, his eyes apathetic but his insides a storm of sadness and utter regret.

I'm sorry Mum. And Dad. I'm sorry we couldn't be together.

And he was. Sorry that they had never been able to live full lives. Lives that they deserved. And for once he didn't regret the tears he shed, because theydeserved them. The wonderful people who gave him life and then saved him from death, they deserved his recognition.

And with one last touch of the gravestone and a single lily conjured and lain on the ground with delicate care, he took his leave, promising to himself to make them -everyone- proud.

It had been some time since Albus Dumbledore had fallen. And unlike some believed, he didn't die in a battle. No, he died from natural causes. It had been a sad day when their leader died, but at least it had been before the ones closest to Harry had passed. However, he also died a martyr, to the public anyhow, and the Light used this.

Dumbledore had been a powerful man, and he continued to be in his death by memory.

"Go to where it all began. That is where you will change the world."

They had been some of the last words whispered by Albus Dumbledore, and they had been to Harry alone. Immediately after his death they seemed important, but with Voldemort to fight, they soon faded from his memory. He had bigger and more important things to worry about than the old musings of a man on his deathbed. No, he hadn't given them a second thought.

But after her death...well, suddenly they seemed more important than ever before. This was his last chance, the last thing he could count on, hope for, before his willpower would come to an end. Before he gave up.

So he pushed onward, ignoring the hopeful thoughts and guilt constricting his heart as he entered Godric's Hollow and made his way up to where it all began, where it all started. And when he saw the black scorch marks and crib he froze.

There's nothing here.

And oh he wanted to sob because how stupid had he been? Like he would find a saving grace in the ramblings of an old man, an old man who lived to tell riddles and empty nothings to inspire a hope that didn't exist.

Next great adventure my arse.

But suddenly he saw a golden light, a light that he could have sworn wasn't there before. And when he saw the pensieve swirl with a single memory, he didn't hesitate in diving head first.

What did he have to lose anyway?

Chapter Text

"People say 'I'm taking it one day at a time'. You know what? So is everybody. That's how time works."

― Hannibal Buress

If the golden glow of the pensieve didn't clue Harry into how this wasn't your average everyday pensieve...well, the feeling of a thousand dull knives sinking into his body did. Unlike with the Cruciatus, he didn't have anything to prove at the moment, so he screamed and screamed to his heart's content.

Now wasn't that a fantastic silver lining?

Finally the pain seemed to dull, and once it was completely over Harry dared to open his eyes. His body ached and he felt as if he had just fell off his broom from a thousand feet in the air, but otherwise he was fine. What wasn't fine were the pair of icy blue eyes so close to his face he could detect the changes in pupil size. He jumped up and had his wand in his hand in a heartbeat, a Stupefy already on the edge of his tongue.

He took advantage of the second-long hesitation of his opponent and went ahead and fired it off, thoughts already on how to get out of here and back to the base. Why had he left anyway?

He had already listed the man as taken care of in his mind, so the wandless Protego the man whispered completely blew him away, and put him on extreme guard. No one he knew alive could perform a wandless Protego. Besides Moldyshorts of course, but he wasn't really alive anyway. No...this was worrisome.

Did he have a new enemy to contend with? Or did he actually manage to make a new enemy in under three seconds? Wow. New record for Harry BloodyPotter.

However, what met his spell and grimace he was unable to hide was simply a grin and a twinkling of white-ish blue eyes.

Wait a second…

"W-who are you? Do you know Albus Dumbledore? Wait! Are you Aberforth, his brother? I've heard about you-"

"Please my dear boy. Calm down. I know Albus. He is actually a good friend of mine. I am not Aberforth however. I would love to have you continue guessing though. I wonder how long it'll take. I'll give you a hint...I'm immortal!"

Harry cocked his head in confusion, only realizing after his rushed words that he really should be running away now or at the very least apologizing...but this man didn't care. He was actually going into the kitchen of all thi-

"Hey! Wait a second. Where are you going!? I have questions. Oh, and sorry about...well you know." The man ceased his walking, messy white curls flopping around on his head. Harry suddenly wondered how his hair looked right now, and wasn't that a silly thing to be worrying about? He pushed those thoughts away and returned to the matter at hand.

Who was this guy? And then he knew. Of course! Dumbledore's friend and immortal? Nicholas Flamel!

"Oh. You're Nicholas Flamel. But...the Philosopher's stone was destroyed. Shouldn't you...you know be...um...dead by now?" Harry could feel his face reddening and his features twist into a cringe. Did he want this guy to attack him? Against all logic however, the man merely laughed loudly, and Harry was distinctly reminded of images of Father Christmas.

"Well, as you can see I'm very much alive. You pose many questions however. You believe my stone gone? And that my methods of immortality are so well known...hm. Discouraging, but exciting as well. How did you come to learn of all my secrets?" The man had made a pot of tea while Harry was floundering in the middle of the living room, hoping his faux pas would be accepted or at least ignored.

Yet again Harry was surprised. He didn't know the stone was gone? Had...had Dumbledore destroyed it without permission? But wait...that didn't make sense. Flamel would have to take the potion more than once every 5 years. He would have realized by now...right?

"Um excuse me sir. Not to be nosy, but how often do you need to drink the Elixir of Life? To stay healthy I mean." Harry was still red, embarrassed beyond belief to have attacked this man in this home, then asked why he wasn't already dead of all things! He really needed Herm- and he remembered.

Harry shuddered and felt his insides shriveling up, the dementor returning from his brief break. Perhaps they needed naps every now and then? And he alsorealized why he was here. The pensieve. Perhaps it hadn't been a pensieve, but a teleporter of sorts? Maybe Flamel was in hiding and Dumbledore had sent Harry to him for advice. But why wouldn't he just give Harry the address? Since he had made it through without knowing the address, Flamel couldn't be utilizing Fidelius charm...but maybe the object he had gone through was a sort of loophole?

Maybe?

"Boy? Hello! Anyone home? I was trying to tell a story. My, how rude you youngins are nowadays." Harry abruptly quit his inner musings, yet again embarrassed beyond belief. Why wasn't this guy just hexing him already?!

"S-sorry sir. Just...um. In my head. Ya know?" The old man smiled kindly, his hand reaching out to pat Harry on the shoulder, but only reaching his knee, since he was sitting and Harry was standing.

"Come now boy! Sit your behind down. No good story is told standing. I want you comfy for it. Not sure if you're overly polite or just silly. Goodness." Harry plopped down without a second thought and couldn't help but think the heat on his cheeks and ears might just stay there forever.

"Alright, now that I have your unwavering attention... I'll teach you all about my wondrous invention. I made it in...hm when was it? 1392? Yeah, that sounds about right. I was 62. Peak of health even at that age. Anyway, the stone releases the main ingredient of the Elixir of Life, Frigere, every few weeks. However, I don't have to take the actual potion until a whole year has passed. After that...well, I tested it a single time and it was not fun. Have you ever seen your hands start to chip away? Awful! I only wish that they had cameras back in my day. Would have been a sight to show others. Freak 'em out to high heaven. Ha!"

Harry stared at the old man blankly, but in a new light. He's almost 700 years old! Morgana's' tits that's... old! Harry's eyes had pulled open almost as far as his mouth without his permission, thoughts of how much this guy must have seen when the man yet again shoved a wrinkled hand in his vision, blue eyes crinkling with amusement.

"Hey kid! You look like I just asked you to fondle my grandmum. She's dead just so you know so no worries. Oh...she's also a skeleton so no other worries if you catch my drift." Harry continued to look surprised, but now his eyebrows crinkled and eyes widened for a different reason.

"Who on Earth uses that as an expression?! Fondle your-gross! Blimey man, I do not want to know what goes on in your head on a regular basis." Flamel let loose another grin that Harry was beginning to think was his go-to expression at every comment of his. He wasn't sure he liked it all that much.

"Hey, I'm old boy. All I got are my jokes and super cool souvenirs. Do you know anyone who has an original Yataghan sword from the Ottoman empire? Huh?How many!"

Harry looked incredulously at the man, not really sure what the man expected from him. Flamel motioned with his hand yet again, but the man's mischievous eyes made him let out a sigh that was definitely not supposed to be a laugh! He rolled his eyes as well for added effect. He was not amused! Definitely not.

The other man's grin said otherwise but…

"None that I can think of sir." The man's smile brightened a few notches, his eyes twinkling madly.

"See! Immortality does have it's perks. Anyway my boy, I hope that answers your question. Got any more?" Harry had many up and ready, and as he continually listed them he was suddenly interrupted.

"How about you tell me how you came to be here boy. Perhaps that will help me answer to the best of my ability." So Harry spoke of his journey, leaving out all of the Light's plans against Voldemort. He had to be careful no matter what.

At the mention of the pensieve Flamel's eyes brightened to unimaginable proportions and his grin took up at least half of his face. He shoved a newspaper in Harry's lap - and when did he get a cup of Earl Grey in his hands and a throw wrapped across his shoulders? - and waved madly at it, as if the mysteries of the universe lay within it.

Harry picked it up with another laugh-turned sigh and skimmed through the front page of the wrinkled Daily Prophet. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, so why on Earth would Flamel- Date: Wednesday 17 January 1944.

Harry's eyes widened and his mouth fell open with a gasp.

I time traveled.

Chapter Text

"The right hand doesn't know what the left is doing" is a phrase that refers to times when people ought to know, but don't know, about something that is happening very close to them. For instance, you ought to know about the man who watches you when you sleep."

― Lemony Snicket

"Hooooneeeey! Breakfast is ready! Now get your skinny arse out of that bed!" The horrifyingly feminine voice abruptly switched to it's usual gruff-y yell. Harry would love to say the man's sarcasm was as annoying as he pretended it was...but Harry loved it. The man's overall attitude was exactly what Harry wanted and needed. Not that he would ever admit it.

"Yeah yeah you old geezer! I'm gettn' up!"

"What did you just fuckn' say?!"

"Nothing darling! I'll be there in a moment!" Harry made sure his voice was high-pitched like a woman's, no sarcasm easily detected.

No response was made, but Harry knew the man was busy chuckling to himself. Harry began to sit up, but easily flopped back down onto the silky brown pillow beneath his head, his curls splaying all over the pillow and his face. He blew a few pieces away and ran a hand through them, his other hand coming up to cover a yawn. Suddenly, he remembered what day it was.

We're going to Diagon!

And if that didn't get Harry's "skinny arse" out of bed he didn't know what would. He rushed through his shower and pulled on a pair of cotton pants and a thin red shirt. He didn't even bother messing with the pile of curls atop his head. Nothing would save it.

He entered the kitchen with ease; living in a home for seven months would do that. The rich creams, golds, and browns the entire house was decorated with were comfortably familiar and he gulped down his cinnamon pancakes without abandon. Did he mention how wonderful a cook Flamel was?

"Don't forget to eat a banana. Do you want a Charley Horse later?"

"Is that even proven? That potassium helps?" Flamel sent him one of his famous Nick-grins, and flicked a spoon-full of oatmeal at Harry. A quick wave of his hand sent the oatmeal flying elsewhere. If it was on the wall instead of the obvious sink choice...well. He was still learning how to control his wandless magic.

"Hell if I know. You ready to take your OWLs?" Harry finished his last bite of pancake and with obvious spite grabbed an apple instead of the banana. He was met with a glare, but nothing else.

"Yeah. Your tutelage has helped me wonderfully Master Flamel. What are you going to do while I take them?"

"Well, I'm going to do some business with the goblins, and I'm almost out of dragon fly wings so I should probably grab some of those. Did you want me to pick up anything specific? I mean, we have to head over to Blotts and everywhere else, but we can just go together." Harry nodded slowly, his thoughts more on his apple and oncoming OWLs than the conversation.

"And Dumbledore said it was alright? For me to transfer?" With a careless flick of Flamel's wrist the dishes were cleaned and put into the cabinets while he righted his robe, white-blue eyes flickering around the house to see if he had missed anything.

"Yeah yeah he's worked it out with Dippet. Everything is a-okay. I expect nothing but Outstandings! You hear me boy!" Harry grinned evilly at that, his eyes alight with mischief.

"Sure. And I'll make sure to start shitting gold while I'm at it. Piece of cake." While Flamel's teachings had Harry caught up with most of his sixth year work if not all, he hadn't suddenly become Hermione incarnate. His theory work would always be average. No matter what.

His practical though...well, Harry was excited to see how well he improved in each of his subjects.

"Oh don't use sarcasm with me boy. How rude! I want at least an E on potions though. If you don't all the other Potions Masters at the convention next month with laugh at me. Flamel can't even teach fifth year Potions. What a joke!" Flamel whined and covered his wrinkled face in mock sorrow, his hands undoubtedly covering the shit-eating grin he was wearing.

"Oh lighten up you old geezer. I'll do ya proud." The man uncovered his smile and reached an arm over Harry's narrow shoulders, easily grasping him in preparation for apparition.

"I got to ask though. Is there actually a convention for Potion's Master's?" Flamel's eyes twinkled like stars, his white teeth brilliant and uncovered while he smiled.

"What do you think kid?" And with a Pop! they made their way to Diagon Alley.

Harry was...pleasantly surprised. He had taken OWLs for all the subjects he had studied for at Hogwarts previously, except Divination of course. He had nointerest in taking or caring about a class that had subjected him to a lifetime of sorrow. He wouldn't support the cause of prophecy-making by even attendingthe course.

So, he took his OWLs for Transfiguration, Charms, Care, DADA, History, Potions, Herbology, and surprisingly Arithmancy. Harry had always been good at maths during school...primary school anyway. And he had enjoyed them too.

So, when Flamel learned of this, he had Harry catch up, and he really only needed to cover three years of material. It was nothing. Actually, Harry would be ecstatic if he got an Acceptable. He truly doubted he got any higher.

So, Harry exited the Ministry with a spring in his step, for once confident in his abilities and excited instead of nervous for the results. However, as thoughts of his imminent entry into Hogwarts filled his mind, past worries did as well. He hadn't been at Hogwarts since...well since everything started. So many bad memories were there...well. Harry was just thankful nothing too horrifying happened that day.

If it had, he was confident he wouldn't be able to enter the premises without having a panic attack. Diagon Alley, while reminding him of bad times, also represented a safe haven. He just put the memory of...Ron's death into the corner of his mind, ignoring the veil of misery that threatened to smother him.

Being in Nick's care had been extremely helpful for his mind and body. The peace and quiet he found there...so different from the rambunctious war zone he had been living in for almost three months. Every day had been a battle, and just making it to a less-permanent sleep every night was considered a victory.Yet again, Harry wiped his mind of such thoughts, his eyes eating up the sight of a war-free Diagon Alley.

Of course a war was going on, but to Harry, this was peaceful. He almost-ran - it was just a fast walk dammit - over to Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour and ordered a salted caramel cone, thoughts of happy days filling his mind as the yummy treat filled his belly. When he found his foot tapping away when he was just about halfway through the cone he hopped up and checked the time, seeing that Flamel wouldn't be expecting him at Blotts for another half hour.

So, he made his way through the streets, happy faces changing his own apathetic expression to a silly grin. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt this carefree. And he didn't care to remind himself of a time beforehand. Just as he was rounding a corner a hard and very tall obstacle abruptly appeared, causing him to fall directly on his arse, ice cream smearing all over his robe and pant leg.

Before Harry could so much as say a word a pale hand was shoved in his face, and Harry instinctively grasped it. A flutter of something ran up and down Harry's arm, but the touch was ended too soon for him to tell.

Must have been my imagination.

Harry looked up at his obstacle and was alarmed by just how pretty this guy was.

And I did not just think some random bloke on the street was pretty.

His eyes were an extremely dark grey and his jet-black hair was straight and styled to perfection. The man's robes fit him just right, and Harry couldn't help but notice how loose and baggy all his clothing was. It wasn't Dudley size, but not nearly as small as it could be. His eyebrows looked to be groomed, but Harry just couldn't imagine a guy plucking his eyebrows like the girls did in his time period. Maybe it was a thing in the 40's? And he had managed to gain all the attractive aristocratic features that existed.

Ugh, I hate talking to pretty people. I'll end up drooling all over myself or something.

An awkward silence began to occur, for the other boy seemed preoccupied with something, and Harry decided that the boy must be waiting for him to apologize. He had walked into the man for Merlin's sake!

"Oh Merlin I'm so sorry! Wasn't looking in front of me like an idiot. Did any get on you? I can clean it, or pay for any damages. Seriously, I'm so sorry…"

Why am I rambling? I sound like a total idiot. Stop. Talking.

"Anyway...yeah. Um. Sorry. For...that." Harry bit his bottom lip, his eyes trailing over the smiling face of the guy he just walked into of all things and fiddled with the loose piece of string coming from the bottom of his shirt.

"No worries my friend. No need to continue apologizing." The man had the audacity to laugh of all things, and if that didn't make Harry want to crawl into a hole and die he didn't know what would. He could feel that damn red demon climbing up his neck all the way to his ears and he knew he looked like the worst sunburn victim on the planet.

"Yeah yeah...well. Yeah. I'm just...gonna go. Yeah. Bye!" And Harry ran off, not understanding how he had managed to be so bad at talking to people.

Tom Riddle was having the best summer of his life. Just last year he had finally turned seventeen, making him old enough to get his apparition licence. He also had reached majority...and if that hadn't made him sincerely happy he didn't know what would.

He was finally done with that damn orphanage and all those who lived within it. After a few years or so he would burn it all to the ground of course, but crimes required patience and finesse, and he had no interest in going to prison over something so small. This whole summer he had been staying in the Leaky Cauldron, working as a waiter every other day to help pay the rent.

It was a pathetic job, but he would take anything over the disgusting muggles at the orphanage.

As he was taking yet another stroll through Diagon - he would never tire of the beauty of a magical community - a small shape hit his chest, abruptly stopping all movement. Unlike the person who had rammed into him, he didn't fall ungracefully on his back, but he did back pedal a bit. He controlled himself quickly and prepared himself for conversation, secretly hoping whoever this was would be rude and just run off wherever he had dragged himself from.

He shoved his hand into the person's face, polite facade firmly in place. Still sincerely hoping they would be rude and just go away. It was not to be though, for the boy gripped his hand firmly. A powerful warmth swept through him and he took back his own appendage back quickly, not understanding what just happened at all.

Of course he didn't allow this to show on his face, but his confusion made him forget to apologize, even if he didn't believe himself at fault. In society, that's just what you did. Weird, but required.

However, it seemed it wouldn't matter for the boy began to murmur numerous apologies, his hands gesturing every which way, and even once almost touching Tom as if to see if he was alright. Of course, Tom put a stop to that immediately and said,

"No worries my friend. No need to continue apologizing."

He probably should have said something a bit more articulate...but that warmth. What was that? He released a quick laugh as well, hoping beyond hope that this would end soon. The boy said some kind of goodbye and left his sight quickly, leaving him to his own thoughts.

Thank Merlin.

Now though, all he could think of was the boy with crazy black hair, bright green eyes, and icecream covering his chin.

"So I just utterly rammed into this poor bloke, icecream flying everywhere. I swear, I must've said 'sorry' more than a million times. Probably goes to Hogwarts too...ugh. Hope he doesn't remember my stupid face." Harry rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, thoughts still on his embarrassing confrontation just a couple minutes ago.

"Sorry love, but your stupid mug is completely unforgettable!" Flamel whacked him on the back and left his hand there, subtly steering them towards Madam Malkin's.

"Thanks Nick. You just sent my confidence sky high." Flamel's grip on Harry's shoulder tightened for a moment and he sent a quick grin Harry's way.

"Just doing my job dearie. Now go in there and get poked and prodded for stuff you really don't need." Harry just stuck his tongue out, his body already preparing itself for sharp needles digging their way through his skin 'accidentally'.

"So my name is going to be Harry Flamel?" They had made their way back to the house just a few short hours after and Harry sank gratefully into the plush leather armchair, his hand waving tiredly to start a fire in the fireplace.

"Yup. You're my official great-great-great some other greats grandson. Your parents, Rosalie and Edward Flamel, died in one of Grindelwald's raids a few months ago. You were here visiting your favorite numerous greats granddad and managed survived." Tea magically appeared in front of both of them, and when Harry sipped some of the hot liquid, he managed to sink even deeper into the armchair with a deep sigh.

"And they were in Wales right? Usk, Wales?"

"Yeah yeah. Don't go into detail. Once your classmates hear of their deaths they'll back off. It's only polite." They both shared a grin at that and Harry closed his eyes briefly, unbelievably happy to just be sitting here.

Happy. He didn't think he would ever feel that way again.

Lately he had managed to keep...certain memories out of his mind, if only just because he was in an entirely new atmosphere. He knew the nightmares and flashbacks would return once he made his way to Hogwarts, but that was a bridge he would cross once he reached it.

Maybe...maybe not even then.

All Harry's life he'd ignored bad memories and thoughts. He'd probably just manage to do that again. Thank Merlin for silencing charms.

As his thoughts turned to his first home, his future plans also appeared. Harry knew that he had been gifted the perfect opportunity by Dumbledore. Voldemort hadn't even begun gaining followers and power until the early sixties. Voldemort's name had just begun becoming popular in the seventies. He hadplenty of time to find the bastard and kill him. And he probably didn't have that many horcruxes yet either!

He guessed that he had made the diary while young or maybe even at school.

Psycho probably started killing people at fourteen.

All the others though...he had no idea. At least he knew what they all were, or at least had a general idea. Dumbledore had pretty much told Harry everything he knew about horcruxes to Harry after the Battle, so Harry was probably one of few experts on them. Besides, he could sense the black magic used if he concentrated. Had something to do with their connection...but that was beside the point.

Harry was determined to finish school and learn everything he could. Then he would take Voldemort out before he could so much as think about starting a war. The idea of saving so many lives...in made him giddy in a way.

Harry of course hadn't told Nick of his plans. He had no idea how timelines worked...but he didn't care. If he didn't exist that was fine. As long as Voldemort couldn't wreak the havoc he would if given the chance, he was fine with it.

Anything to save those he cared about.

Chapter Text

"Friendship is born at that moment when one man says to another: "What! You too? I thought that no one but myself . . .""

― C.S. Lewis, The Four Loves

Light rays of sunlight peaked through Harry's white curtains, and the yellow beams shone across his thin face. His black locks fell across the brown pillow, the covers pulled all the way up to his chin. He smiled sleepily, the small dusting of freckles wrinkling along with his nose as the light got too close to his eyes. He was the picture of innocence...

And Nicholas couldn't wait to spoil it.

With a wave of his wand and a small giggle he would happily admit releasing, the games began.

Harry had just been having the strangest of dreams...a purple pig jumping over the moon of all things, when a splash of ice cold water hit him in the face and then his naked chest. The screech he released was not something he was proud of because he was a man for crying out loud, and once he was out of bed his hands rubbing vigorously over every ice-covered part of him in hopes of warming himself.

He sent the nastiest glare he could come up with at the only person possibly responsible.

"I swear to Merlin I will cut open your belly and force feed you your own liver if you ever so much as think about doing that again."

His threats and malicious expression were ignored in favor of a small golden horn being honked and streamers falling from the sky in colors of red, gold, and pink. Flamel's voice singing the classic song filled the room and Nick himself grinned brighter than the sun and all the stars.

He tossed a few balloons into the air and screamed, "Happy Birthday Harry!"

"So...you woke me up at 8 o'clock in the morning for bloody waffles ?"

Flamel stood by the stove with his famous Kiss the Alchemist apron on which had a grinning image of a young Nick who puckered up every now and then and winked before twirling around.

"Of course I did young man. It’s July 31st, the date of my young charge's emergence into our grand world! How could I allow you to sleep all day long? Simply unthinkable!"

The man flipped a few pieces of bacon and finished up the remaining waffles, making sure to sprinkle some extra cinnamon on top. He flicked his hand and the whipped cream and syrup flew out of the fridge, landing right in front of the birthday boy himself.

"Get to eating boy! I wanna see your food baby!" Harry's hand abruptly stopped making its way towards the whipped cream, his eyes instead meeting Flamel's incredulously.

"Food baby? I-I don't even know where to start with that." Nick made his way over to Harry, his wrinkly hand patting the boy a few times on the cheek while he sported a sarcastic grin upon his face.

"Don't worry your poor little seventeen year old head over it. Wouldn't want you to pull something." Before Harry could so much as hiss out a comeback the man had already turned back to the bacon and his own eggs that were frying.

"Now, what do you want to do today Harry? We can do whatever you want." And as Harry scarfed down his waffles - which were beyond amazing by the way - Harry could only think of one thing he wanted to do.

"I want to fly."

Today had probably been the best day of his life. And that made it the worst.

After a day filled with finally being able to use his wand whenever he wanted, lots of needless apparition, and hours of flying with the Firebolt he was extremely thankful he had kept on his person along with many other things, he had finally sat down in the living room with a big storybook and a hot mug of chocolate. He also had over three of the softest throw blankets in Nick's house covering his body whilst he curled up in the chair.

He didn't think he had ever been more comfy in his life.

As he suddenly lost interest in the book, his thoughts turned to other things, which of course led to his past. And then he realized. He realized he had been happy without them. And he...he didn't know how to handle it.

Every single day he had thought of... them at least once. More like at least one hundred times. But today... they hadn't even crossed his mind. His wonderful friends... forgotten by him of all people.

And he was ashamed. Because he was being selfish again.

Didn't he say he would stop this? His promise had been forgotten while being lavished with the comforts and utter happiness that surrounded him at Nick's home. But...this wasn't about him. It was about defeating Voldemort so all his mistakes could be rectified.

He...he didn't deserve this. And suddenly memories shot through his mind, of all the battles and all the death and while hanging on the edge of the precipice, he couldn't help but think - Why on Earth didn't this happen sooner?

And he fell.

"Harry. HARRY. Harry, I need you to stay still for me. Quit shooting curses or I'll have to restrain you. Do you understand? Harry… " He continued flailing, eyes wide and pupils blown.

Where was he? He...he didn't know this place. No- this must be enemy territory. He had been captured! He shouted every defensive spell he knew, memories making his mind hazy. He felt ropes tie around him and he struggled, but he knew he was caught. He was going to die. And part of him was even glad.

"Harry, look at me. It's okay. You're safe. Calm. Down ." And something about those icy blue eyes was familiar… Nick. And Harry broke down crying because what else could he do?

Warm, weathered hands wrapped around him, the ropes melting away from Harry and their memory like snow on a hot day.

"Shhh. It's alright Harry. You've got nothing to fear. It's alright now."

Harry gripped onto Nick like a lifeline, tears and snot getting everywhere but neither cared.

Not right now, not here.

Finally, Harry relaxed, strangely calm after breaking down. He hadn't been able to in so long... It was nice being able to cry without worries. Without having a person depending on him everywhere he turned. At Nick's stare Harry closed up, not wishing to speak of this to anyone.

Never. Nononono no.

The man tilted Harry's chin up until their eyes met, his other hands reaching to wipe away a few stray tears.

"You don't have to tell me details. Just tell me whatever you want. But don't you dare shut down on me."

So Harry told him about the good days.

Of long days spent playing Quidditch and lying around in the sun. Of entire nights spent "studying" but really he and Ron were just playing chess while 'Mione tried to guilt-trip them into learning something. Of their adventures together and the laughs they had shared. He spoke of those times for hours and Harry realized for the first time just how many happy times he had with them. And he smiled.

Finally Harry became too tired to even sit upright, let alone continue talking so he began his trudge off to bed. Before he made it to his room though Nick gripped him into the fiercest hug he had received in a very long time, and he felt as if his entire form was being engulfed by him.

"Goodnight Harry."

And of all the things he could have done Nick kissed him on the forehead and with one last pat to his head, left him to go to bed. 

"So Harry. You excited to go to schooool ?" Nick sat at the table with Harry while he engulfed his eggs furiously, his chin resting upon his palms while his eyes twinkled mischievously.

Harry slowly pulled his eyes from his food - and really Nick shouldn't expect this from him when he was this hungry!- and gave his own form of a low-class glare, a mere crinkling of the eyes. After one last swig of his orange juice Harry picked himself up, hands reaching for the ceiling in a cat-like stretch. Nick pouted lightly from his seated position- being ignored did not agree with him.

" Haaaarry. Answer!" Harry took a few more seconds to stretch and with a wave of his wand sent his bags flying towards him.

"Yes, yes I'm excited. Thanks for the concern ya old geezer." With a bright smile sent at Nick, Flamel knew the boy was telling the truth for once and lifted himself up as well.

"I'm sure it's more about Hogwarts itself though than the other children I suppose?" Harry nodded softly, his hands running through his small moleskin pouch quickly. He had to make sure all his important stuff was with him.

"Well, I think these potions will help you enjoy the Hogwarts experience even more."

20 mini vials of multi-colored potions were levitated into Harry's still-open moleskin bag and when he caught sight of what he knew to be Dreamless Sleep potion Harry began to argue, but Nick shushed him with a careless wave of his hand.

"Never more than one vial every two days. You can get addicted, but it's more likely that your body will just become used to it too quickly. Use them well." And with a pat of the bag Nick sent Harry one of his signature grins and apparated to the Hogwarts Express, not worried at all about Harry not following behind him.

"Hurry your skinny arse up! I swear, you'd think we were old lovers taking a romantic stroll in the park!" Nick trailed in front of Harry, and behind Harry his luggage floated along, bumping into others every now and then but still effortlessly keeping up with them.

"Well I'm sorry I wanted to appreciate the view. Trying to get rid of me Flamel? Bit unsubtle but...hey. You never seemed the cunning type." At that Nick slowed down, his grin lighting up his face and making him appear as young as Harry.

"And that's why you'll be in Slytherin you little snake. Those witty comebacks of yours will guarantee you a seat in the house of green." Harry pshed at that, a light flush appearing on his cheeks.

"I will not be a Slytherin. I am an honorary Gryffindor! I'll have you know I pulled Godric's sword out of the Sorting Hat in my second year!" Nick put a fake awed expression on his face and used his hands to push his cheeks together, making him a very funny vision.

"Oh really ? How fascinating! Godric must be getting soft in his old age. Probably wanted you to feel like you belonged." Harry flushed again, old insecurities bubbling in the back of his mind.

"Yeah yeah whatever." Finally they made it to the Hogwarts train door. But for some reason Harry couldn't just climb aboard. A few seconds passed, and Harry did exactly what he wanted to.

I'll show you Gryffindor bravery.

And he hugged Nick as hard as he could, face buried in the man's warm chest.

Hands came to his back and lifted him up, causing Harry to flail around but laugh at the same time because he felt like a kid for once in his life. Harry couldn't help but notice that he had never been hugged like this before. And he liked it.

Finally a squirming Harry was released and the second kiss Nick had ever given Harry was pressed to his forehead. His heart swelled but he held back the tears. He would let loose later in private.

Nick stepped back and took in the boy in front of him. The messy black hair was just as crazy as always, but the poor thing had filled out a bit and the bruises beneath his eyes were now nonexistent. His eyes sparkled and his cheeks were flushed, looking every bit a normal teenage boy. Nick couldn't resist diving in for another hug, for this was his child now. His Harry. And he would take care of him.

Until the end.

They broke apart once more and Harry sent Nick a brilliant smile, all teeth and red cheeks. “So...see you at Yule?” Nick grinned, hands coming up to smack Harry on the back. “You bet your ass you will. Remember to write twice a day!”

And with one last hug Harry entered the train, for once having an adult, a guardian who was entirely his, waving him on. And Harry vowed Nick would never become another casualty. Never.

Harry entered the first carriage he came across that was empty and sat down, simply enjoying the feeling of the seats which weren't any different from his time.

So far so good. Harry thought to himself.

After about a half hour of simply sitting Harry began fidgeting, no longer enjoying the peace and quiet. He needed to do something. He picked out a random book from his trunk, actually happy for once to see it was about advanced light arts, when he heard three sharp, even clicks on his door, alerting him that he had company. He waved open the door and a few young boys made their way in.

Harry looked at each of them curiously, wondering if he knew any of their descendants.

Of course he would be stuck with baby Death Eaters.

In the front stood a Malfoy of all people, his white-gold hair long and silky, but tied at the nape of his neck with a silver ribbon. The boy's equally silver eyes assessed him quickly and expertly, his hands soon after twisting and his nose upturning.

Well, looks like someone doesn't like me.

Harry really couldn't find it in himself to care. To his right was a reed thin boy, with average brown hair and golden eyes of all things.

Must be a pureblood trait if he isn't a werewolf.

His features looked pinched, and for some reason Harry was reminded of Theo Nott.

Maybe he's his grandfather?

Finally came the last person within the carriage and Harry found himself confused. No one he knew looked like this guy. His skin was a dark tan and his hair was black and completely straight, falling to the middle of his neck. His eyes were startling though. They were a bright violet. Harry had never seen eyes like that before.

After assessing each of them in kind Harry put on a bright grin, hoping to make them feel comfortable. No matter what, he would not judge these people on the sins of their future selves and offspring. It just wasn't right. Thoughts of Snape ran through his mind and the torture he put Harry through and that just cemented Harry's decision in his mind. He was going to be nice. To baby Death Eaters.

Why did this seem like such a bad idea?

"Hey there! Come on in you guys. I've got space." Harry waved them in, his book placed to the side without a care.

Abraxas cocked his head the smallest of spaces, but soon after smiled politely. No teeth showed. He took his seat delicately while Nott took a spot in the corner, soon after pulling a book from his robes and forgetting everything besides the words on the page. The other boy took the middle seat between Nott and Malfoy and Harry immediately recognized that none of them sat by him on purpose.

But why would they do that? I'm not threatening at all. And I was nice.

But the feeling stayed with him, and he couldn't help but think that this might be part of the Slytherin shenanigans he had always tried to stay far away from.

Abruptly Malfoy sent Harry a dazzling smile and his pale hand laid between them, obviously a sign for him to shake it.

"Pleasure to meet you. My name is Abraxas Malfoy."

Harry started at the blonde, noting the similarities and differences between him and his grandson. Both had pointed features, but Abraxas seemed to be much sharper. He also looked a lot more kind, so without any hesitation Harry gripped the others hand firmly, an easy, lopsided grin appearing on his own face.

"Likewise Malfoy. My name's Harry Flamel." The slight twitch of Malfoy's eyes at Harry's smile disappeared immediately at Harry's introduction. Harry couldn't help but notice both Nott and the other boys' eyes swung to him as if he had uttered a secret of the universe.

" Flamel? " Malfoy gasped.

The boy he didn't know seemed to look at him in a new light as well as Nott, and Harry released a scoff internally.

It really is all about blood and power with these guys. He couldn't help but let out a sigh and ran a hand impatiently through his hair, but the smile returned, albeit a little less bright.

"Yeah, I'm a Flamel. Ring a bell for you guys?" Malfoy smiled smoothly, and Harry noticed that slitted pupils would fit the young man well.

"Yes, a very familiar name indeed. You wouldn't happen to be related to-"

"Oh please Malfoy. We just met young Harry here. It's not polite to pry into another's business. Perhaps when we're... better acquainted."

The boy with striking eyes smiled kindly at Harry, no smirk or calculating gaze present. Harry decided right then and there this guy might just be alright. Harry held out his hand this time, his grin back to its previous radiance.

"Harry Flamel. Nice to meet you." The tan boy took his hand softly, a brief squeeze all he recieved before he pulled his hand away.

"Eric Zabini. It truly is a pleasure Mr. Flamel." Harry couldn't help the laugh that escaped him at that, both Malfoy's and Zabini's eyes widening comically.

Harry just knew they were wondering where they went wrong and that seriously made stopping his laughter even harder. Finally the chuckles died down and Harry sent them both a happy smile.

"No need for such formalities. My names Harry. Go ahead and call me it." Zabini cocked his head the the left and his easy smile gained a sharper edge.

"Of course. And call me Eric, please. I insist." Both looked towards Malfoy and he smiled as well, face completely relaxed, hiding the manipulations perfectly beneath it.

"And call me Abraxas. You are right- there is no need for such formalities between soon-to-be friends." Harry's eyes pinched at the obvious manipulation but allowed it to slide.

Why couldn't they be friends anyway? Perhaps a change would do Harry some good. A different side of things. And as he looked each of his 'soon-to-be' friends over, he couldn't help but think that maybe he could improve the future for not just his friends, but those who suffered directly under Voldemort's wrath. The Death Eaters themselves. So Harry kept his smile ongoing, not even needing to fake it.

"Yes, soon-to-be friends."

"And you've checked on the first years on the first half of the train? I don't have time to make my way to every single one, but each should meet at least one of us. If I find you've missed any I shall be... displeased. "

His final year at Hogwarts had just begun, and just as he had expected he was made Head Boy. The badge had found its way to him just a short couple weeks ago; he had been pleased, but not surprised.

Today marked the beginning of his last journey and as he felt the train begin to move he couldn't help the wave of nostalgia that hit him. Hogwarts would forever be his home. And he knew a part of him would miss it.

These thoughts were soon thrown away for more pressing matters and he stared at the younger Black before him unblinkingly, impatient for the answers he seeked. Every young mind would hear of Tom Riddle's kindness if he could help it. He needed as many people as he could sympathetic to his cause, and getting them when they first arrived was the perfect time to plant the seed.

"Y-yes my Lord. Every first year has been accounted for and talked to briefly. Each have heard your name." Tom nodded shortly at that, already walking ahead and thoughts on different plans. Alphard Black was the furthest thing from his mind now. His steps slowed as he found the compartment he and his closest Knights stayed in, but was surprised to see a new occupant.

Crazy black hair, bright green eyes, and icecream covering his chin.

And Tom then remembered the warmth as well and he couldn't help but think this year at Hogwarts would be more interesting than he could have guessed.

He and Eric had just been having a riveting discussion on the defensive uses on household charms when someone new opened the door without knocking and flouncing into the carriage as if he owned the place.

I hate arrogant people.

But when Harry's eyes reached their new occupant's face, Harry's face abruptly flushed and he remembered.

Of course I had to jinx it by saying he would be at Hogwarts. Ugh.

He quickly recovered himself though and waved at the boy.

No way he remembers anyway. Wasn't really a big deal after all.

The boy's dark grey eyes latched onto him and he could feel himself being studied... again.

Why do all Slytherins have to do that? And so blatantly too. I swear, next one who does it I'm gonna accuse of...well I don't know, but I'll embarrass them for sure!

"Hey there. You friends with Abraxas and Eric?" The tall boy's face never changed, but Harry couldn't help but feel like the boy sneered internally at the suggestion of them being his friends.

Hm. I sure am getting good at the 'reading between the lines' thing. Wonder how that happened.

"Yes, they are my...companions. Who might you be?" Harry sported his signature grin and ruffled a hand through his hair quickly.

"I'm Harry Flamel. What about yourself?" The boy stretched out his hand, fingers long and pale and Harry was reminded of spiders of all things.

"I'm Tom. Tom Riddle."

The boy was...odd.

He was utterly disgraceful with himself with his wild gestures and untested words. The boy just spouted whatever came to mind from the useless opening others may call a mouth . While both his Slytherins continued to sneer to themselves quietly, he could see that they weren't entirely... unaffected either.

The boy had an unusual charisma that Tom hadn't seen with anyone else before. While the boy's words were utterly idiotic and facial expressions disgustingly emotional , he still managed to be entertaining and only slightly annoying. He could only imagine the effect he would have on an average person.

Suddenly, the uncanny green eyes of the boy who insisted he be called 'Harry' locked onto his own and for a moment he felt something... familiar about the boy. Like a friend from early childhood you hadn't seen in many years.

But you didn't have friends as a child, did you Tom? His inner musings were abruptly shut down in favor of paying attention to the brat in front of him.

"So what about you Riddle? What's your favorite Quidditch team?" And Tom smiled slightly, just a hint of teeth showing.

I caught that use of my last name Harry. Why do I have to use yours if you won't use mine? Hmm?

Let the games begin.

Harry didn't know conversing could be so tiring. In the past he had mostly hung out with... her and Ron, not wishing to leave the close friends he already had. They had been his first after all, and why would he need more than them? He had met Luna of course, and Neville was nice enough as well, but Luna had been otherworldly and Neville was just as socially awkward as himself if not more so.

These people though...he just felt so uncomfortable. Every word they said felt calculated and cold, and he felt himself constantly being measured and compared, and found subpar. He... didn't like the feeling the other Slytherins gave him, but it had also been nice in a way. It wasn't... loud with them of all things.

Harry didn't quite know how to explain it, but it was as if every conversation was serious and calm. With Gryffindors, you had to yell to have your opinions heard. With the snakes though...everyone thought through everything they said, and it gave Harry time to think. To come up with what exactly he wanted to say. And Harry wasn't the best with words, making this a blessing.

But this wasn't quite right either. Many times throughout the train ride Harry had had to use his wit to keep up with both Abraxas and Eric. If he failed he would be ridiculed. And that was another thing. Failures weren't quite as obvious with the Slytherins. No word was said against you, not that Harry had seen yet of course, but there was this... tension in the air. You just knew you had done something not quite right.

And he had gotten that feeling many times during the train ride to Hogwarts.

Nevertheless, Harry had no want to delve right into the snake pit. While they were nice and Harry wouldn't mind keeping in touch, Gryffindor was where he belonged. Where he wanted to stay.

Still, when they rode the thestrals over and Harry made his way up to the Sorting Hat instead of with the other Slytherins he gave them each a firm shake, hoping his intentions of remaining friends was clear. He saw the wink Eric gave him, showing that he understood, but the other's expressions remained clear and cool. Betraying nothing.

Harry sighed to himself while searching through the first years around him, curiosity burning through him at the thought of one of these people being his own ancestor or a relative of a friend. Soon enough his name was called, his daydreaming cut short.

He made his way to the front, a light blush dusting his neck at the attention he was receiving. He would never get used to it. The hat dropped onto his head and he was slightly happy, but also disappointed the hat slipped easily over his eyes and ears.

Hmmm difficult, very difficult-Wait, I've sorted you before! I don't remember though...Oh. I see. From the future are you? Oh my. The damage...you poor boy. Hm. I see. Alright then. You want to save the world? I'll put you where you need to be!

Ah. Back in Gryffindor at last.

" SLYTHERIN!"

Chapter Text

"We'll be Friends Forever, won't we, Pooh?' asked Piglet.

"Even longer." Pooh answered."

― A.A. Milne, Winnie-the-Pooh

What?

This...this wasn't possible. Yeah, he and Nick had joked about it...but Harry wasn't a Slytherin. He was brave, and chivalrous, and blunt ...

No. I refuse. This is not happening to me of all people!

Harry rethought through all his interactions, how he had reacted to the people around him. Was he truly Slytherin material? Was he devious and cunning? Sure, his plans had been pretty full-proof during the war, but that was because he understood Voldemort! It had nothing to do with him as a person. Right? But as his feet dragged toward the House of Snakes and his own robes become embroidered in green, he knew that it had been him.

By entering the mind of a snake, he had become one himself.

Oh Merlin...this is going to be exhausting.

Harry finally made his way to the Slytherin table, but found no empty ones beside the boys he had met earlier. Malfoy gave an innocent shrug while Zabini seemed to be avoiding his gaze. That other boy though...he was staring right at him.

His grey eyes were cold, his head cocked calculatingly. Harry wanted to be miffed but...they were Slytherins after all. Maybe this was a test of some sort? No one was glaring, just apathetic. So Harry let go of his confusion and went with it. Maybe he would find someone new anyway. Not everyone in Slytherin would be a baby Death Eater. Right?

He sat himself beside a girl who seemed oddly familiar to him and looked to be around his age. She had her head buried in a thick book, lank black hair hanging around her pale face. He couldn't see her actual facial features though, so he had no idea if she was related to someone he knew. He sat down as delicately as possible, mind thinking back to how each of those purebloods had acted.

Maybe that's what had put them off. He didn't know what he had done...but he was in the past. He hadn't really been around anyone during this time to test out their mannerisms, and Nick didn't count because he was barely of this world anyway. So, either all snakes were put through this, or Harry had inadvertently done something to piss someone off.

With a sigh Harry decided to put his minds off things, knowing he would only stress himself out by overthinking it. It could just be that the boys simply didn't like him. He had never really hung out with the Slytherins in his time. Maybe it wasn't Malfoy; maybe Harry's personality just didn't clash well with the ambitious and cunning.

Why was I put here then?

With another sigh Harry cut off his inner musings and dug into his baked potato. Answers would either come in time, or he'd remain friendless for his last year at Hogwarts. With a glance at the upturned faces and quiet conversation, Harry couldn't find it in himself to mind.

Why isn't he upset?

Tom blocked out the pureblood brats that surrounded him, already finding the drivel they talked about utterly useless. His sights were instead on the newest addition to Slytherin house. One Harry Flamel.

The boy, now that he was in his House, was full of contradictions. He was loud and boisterous, nothing like the quiet and restrained nature within the House of Snakes. He hadn't seemed to show any kind of advanced ambition, what with his "I'm not completely sure" response when talk of future careers surfaced while on the train. By his mannerisms he was obviously not pureblood. Yet again, another makr againist him. So why was he in his house?

Tom just…. didn't understand this boy at all. Based on his calculations, the boy should have been a Gryffindor. No doubt about it. And he had never been wrong. Not until now.

"So...how are ya?" Harry nervously ran a hand through his hair, eyes peeking up from under his fringe.

He knew there was nothing to fear...but he had never been great with other people. And that had been with his fellow Gryffindors to back him up. The girl sighed loudly and looked up, her black eyes and thick brows much too intense for comfort, but he knew that face. And to be honest, he was a bit excited.

"What do you want , boy?" Her voice was silky smooth, surprisingly high-pitched. Everything about her oozed contempt, but he could see the same nervousness. And he knew what to do. He sent her a lopsided grin, too much teeth, but hopefully easygoing.

"Just someone to talk to. You seem like a great contender. Whatcha reading?" She cocked her brow up, obviously unamused.

"I'm not sure your ridiculously tiny troll brain would get past the first sentence without utterly imploding upon itself. So, there's truly no point in learning it's title." She shoved her face back into the large book, no longer paying a lick of attention to Harry. Not even when he started laughing.

"Wow...I haven't heard a better insult in a while. I'm Harry Flamel. Pleasure to meet you…" And, surprisingly, when Harry waved his hand in the other girl's face she grabbed it. She gave a quick harsh squeeze and let go, eyes like a pair of familiar black holes he never would have guessed himself missing.

"Eileen Prince. You would do well to remember, for I shan't repeat myself." And Harry wouldn't even begin to try covering the laugh that he let loose, or the grin that appeared on his face.

No way. The boy...he had befriended Prince of all people.

The girl was actually intelligent, though of course she couldn’t even begin to compare to him. While she would never go against him, she had never cowered, merely accepted his rule over Slytherin House. Intelligent indeed. So why would she give Flamel any of her precious time?

It's that...charisma.

Yes, that made sense. He supposed Flamel was... kind of endearing in a childish sort of way. The way his face showed any and all emotions he felt made you feel as if he were entirely genuine. And honesty breeds trust and comfort. Yes, that made sense. Eileen just found him an appealing new toy.

Her loud chuckles did not make him doubt his assumption.

"And-and she actually hit him?" Harry laughed along with her, the memory bringing tears to his eyes.

" Yes. It-it was amazing! I mean, he totally deserved it, but still. A little thirteen year old making the big bad pureblood cry? Hilarious! " Harry was extremely proud of himself. It had been awkward at first, but after a few minutes of failed attempts he had finally found a good conversation topic. Violence.

"I still can't believe a muggleborn of all people would have the nerve to attack a pureblood. And a girl as well! You choose your friendships wisely Mr. Flamel."

"Oh please, just call me Harry. And I'll call you Eileen." Her lips upturned slightly and she nodded.

"Alright Harry. Of course, I'm assuming you don't mean to pursue me romantically, so I would keep in mind what girls you ask to call by first name. Many will take offense, especially those engaged." Harry's mouth fell open, hands whipping around and head shaking to remove those thoughts from her head.

"Nonono! I would never-well I mean you are attractive so I-but that doesn't mean...Ugh." Harry grinned shyly, hand coming up to rub his neck nervously.

"I do not wish to pursue a relationship. You just seem nice and I wouldn't mind having at least one friend in the snake pit."

For the first time that night she gave a true smile, teeth sharp and lips thin. Her eyes glinted and above all, she looked dangerous.

"We don't have friends here, boy. But we do have enemies. Be glad you didn't make one out of me."

Harry didn't understand how everyone didn't get sick of all the green in here. Green this, green that, it was... weird. At least Gryffindor had some gold mixed with the red. He could get used to the leather seats though. Those were nice.

He sat down in the armchair nearest to the fireplace and waved Eileen over, hoping that they could talk a bit more. While her insults were much more creative and nasty than Snape's, they were filled with less hate, so it was more entertaining than anything.

At his motion she glared and waved her book, making it clear she didn't want to converse. He sent his best puppy-dog look though, one he remembered Luna saying was particularly adorable. Of course, she conveyed that by saying it caused Blibbering Humdingers to tickle a person's ear, which was just 'adorable' in Luna-speak. Eileen sighed and walked over, her eyes looking quite ferocious in the fire-light.

"Boy, I don't speak to many people for one reason only. I find extended conversation boring. If you bore me, I will no longer spend any time with you. So, to put it in simpler terms- piss off. " And she walked away.

Harry grinned happily, knowing Snape well enough to see that soon he and Eileen would be great friends. He opened his Advanced Light Arts book once again, hoping to finish chapter five before he went to sleep. In just a few minutes a shadow covered him, utterly destroying his ability to read. He looked up curiously when the shadow didn't disappear, and was surprised to see the boys who had ignored him earlier standing there. Weren't they mad at him?

"Um...hello. Did you need something?" Harry shut his book. hoping not to accidentally offend them in any way. Who knew what these Purebloods found insulting?

"Hello." The boy with deep grey eyes said, his gaze never leaving Harry's own. To be honest, it was a little... creepy.

Wasn't extended eye contact a sign of wanting to kill someone? Harry waited a few seconds, the boy's eyes looking deep into his own all the while. Was this a threatening tactic? Would it be better if he looked away or if he continued staring? Was he even allowed to blink? The issue was resolved for him though when the boy with unnatural violet eyes butted in, grinning in a natural way that was... too natural somehow.

"No, we don't need anything in particular. Except our seats." Harry's eyes narrowed, not believing his ears. They...they wanted his seat ? This pettiness was above even Draco.

"Um, sorry, but I sat here first. 'Fraid you'll have to sit yourselves elsewhere. What about that couch right over there. " Harry pointed over to the large couch which could easily seat four people and the other loveseat beside it. The boy's eyes widened, seemingly disbelieving that Harry hadn't just gotten up. Did he really look like that much of a pushover?

The idea of it made Harry's temper flare. Malfoy's next words didn't help in the slightest.

" Yes. Actually. As we understand it you obviously don't understand the mechanics of Slytherin house, but only the most powerful of-" Harry raised a hand and stood up, eyes narrowed and lips set in a straight line.

"I don't care about whatever 'rules' you guys have in Slytherin house. I'm just a guy trying to get by. Now, I don't mean to offend you all, but I don't take kindly to bullies. And from what I've seen, that's all you are. Now, if you would be so kind as to get out of my light, I'm going to return to reading." Harry plopped back down, brain not focused on the book anymore, but now unwillingly to move lest they not take his argument seriously.

Besides, he didn't want to act as if he was pouting by running away. Harry remained oblivious to the shocked silence around him, and the eyes that had remained fastened onto him the entire time.

Fascinating. Based on the boy's overall kindness and naiveté , he hadn't expected such a... powerful response.

It was obvious the boy had been bullied in the past, and had experience with things being taken from him without thought. Perhaps that's where the kindness came from? The exact opposite route Tom had taken. Well, it would take time for the boy to get over this, so he'd just have to try again lat-

"I'm-I'm sorry. I don't know what I was thinking. I shouldn't have gotten so angry about it. I'm sure you guys are just used to having this spot, and that's fine. I needed to hit the sack anyway. Night." And the boy actually had the nerve to pat him on the shoulder, bright green eyes shimmering at him, and an equally brilliant smile on his face.

As he left, Tom couldn't help but wonder how he could pull his lips into a smile that big so much without hurting himself.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Harry couldn't believe how he had blown up earlier. He had no interest in having to deal with anymore Slytherin grudges. Those guys could wait forever before getting back at you. And they got you back ten-fold. His stupid pride just got in the way- again.

The boy...what was his name? Zabini? He had asked for the seat nicely, and Harry was sure they had just had those spots for awhile. If Harry hadn't acted like a jerk and just said no, he was sure they would have been fine with it. But nooOOOoo, he had to get crazy about it, jumping on his own personal soapbox and preaching about the wrongful act of bullying.

He only hoped he wouldn't be completely ostracized too quickly. Of course, this mostly had to do with Eileen. He had made a friend with her, and he'd hate to accidentally pull her down with him. Of course, he was sure that she'd just throw him under the bus if it came to that, but he did enjoy being around her. So far anyway.

He had a feeling that, just like Snape, if he could worm his way into her heart, she'd be the best friend he could have. Besides, she said there were only allies in Slytherin house. He had to prove her wrong, didn't he?

" Harry, no stop, you don't understand! I'm not her I swear I'm not her , please Harry don't do this-!"

Harry shot up out of bed, a scream breaching his lips without permission. He panted and shivered uncontrollably; tears falling down his face and their sloppy trail leading to his lips. After a minute of sitting and getting a handle over himself, he spit out the salty taste in his mouth. His thoughts refused to forget the nightmare... the memory, though.

" Oh God." And he rushed out of bed and fell to the porcelain floor, vomit thankfully landing in the toilet and not onto himself.

"Here. You have a little…" Harry fell back in his hurry to stand, eyes wide and red.

The boy with grey eyes stood above him, hair tousled from sleep. He smiled kindly at Harry, and in his hand lay a soft, white towel, and Harry realized what he was talking about. Soon his face matched the red of his eyes and he took the towel from Riddle, not catching the split second touch of their fingers. He wiped the leftover vomit from his chin and tried to smile, but ultimately failed. His thoughts remained on the nightmare...on what he had done. To be honest, he wanted to be alone. But for some reason, the boy refused to leave.

"Um...is this toilet special to you, too?" Riddle laughed, surprisingly, and held out his hand, and Harry grabbed it. Unlike the time with the ice cream, it lingered.

"No, it isn't. I am...merely concerned for my fellow peer. I don't believe you could have smuggled alcohol into Hogwarts so quickly, and even if you could, there doesn't seem to be any kind of smell on you. So, what caused you to vomit in the middle of the night? Do we have an anorexic in our midst?" Harry laughed at that and dusted himself off, thoughts of that moving to the back of his brain.

" No. I assure you, there is nothing wrong with me. Just had a nightmare s'all." Harry managed to pull up a grin this time and was secretly happy someone bothered to check on him. He had assumed all the Slytherins would simply ignore his nightly issues. It seemed that wouldn't be the case. This would make it a bit more complicated though...

"A nightmare that caused nausea? It must have been pretty vulgar." Harry sighed at that, part of him wishing that's all it had been.

"Yeah, it was." And Harry walked back to bed, even though he wouldn't get another wink of sleep.

Liar.

His face screamed it, that it was something worse. Something terrifying.

Tom hadn't had nightmares in a very long time, if ever. He did have dreams though. Of things that would give others nightmares. That small fact had never managed to bother him.

Before the interesting interaction with Harry Flamel he had just been reading calmly in bed, enjoying the peace and quiet. Suddenly he felt the soft vibrations of running and the sound of crying. He ran his hand through his hair a few times, messing it up, and walked over, curious as to what was going on.

When he saw the boy he had been endlessly fascinated with today vomit, he grabbed a towel from the rack, and calmly waited for him to finish. He couldn't believe his luck though. What a perfect time to figure out some of his secrets.

"Um…is this toilet special to you too?" He let loose a quick laugh, not realizing he had waited a bit too long to respond. Tom supposed he was a bit too tired. Or maybe... no. Not possible. He did have to admit the boy was awfully charming-and suddenly he realized his fascination. The boy reminded him of himself.

Of how he could draw people to him like moth to a flame. How others were so utterly entranced by what you had to say. But they were also completely different. Tom drew people to him with his intelligence and power. While this boy...he did it with genuinity. Something Tom in all ways lacked.

"No, it isn't. I am...merely concerned with my fellow peer. I don't believe you could have smuggled alcohol into Hogwarts so quickly, and even if you could, there doesn't seem to be any kind of smell on you. So what caused you to vomit in the middle of the night? Do we have an anorexic in our midst?"

When the boy didn't question his term of 'anorexia' he got another fun fact. He must have pro-muggle parents, or live among muggles.

" No. I assure you there is nothing wrong with me. Just had a nightmare s'all." The boy managed to smile this time, though tiredness tinged the edges.

Tom just didn't understand the utter... vulnerability this boy showed. How could he be comfortable right now? And feel the need to smile at him as if to...make him feel better. It just didn't make any sense. Especially when he could tell the boy wasn't trying to manipulate him.

Unless he's even better than you foresaw...

Tom immediately threw away that option. He was the master of manipulation. There was no way this... thing was in any way better than him. Simply inconceivable.

There was something he was missing, and Tom could feel a giddy feeling rising inside him as the boy left the room.

He had a new pet project. And he had a feeling this one was going to be special.

Chapter Text

“Paranoid? Probably. But just because you're paranoid doesn't mean there isn't an invisible demon about to eat your face.”
― Jim Butcher, Storm Front   

Harry was confused. Not that this didn’t happen often, mind you, for many things people did just didn’t make any sense to him...but lately it had been beyond that. Never before had Harry felt more thick, stupid, and oblivious. Problem is, that even if you know something’s up, that doesn’t mean you’ll be able to figure it out.

And why, might you ask, would Harry feel this way? Slytherins .

“Watch where you’re going you filthy mudblood. ”

Harry didn’t even glare, thoughts more on his first class than anything else. The past few days had been... weird. The day after the feast, Saturday, had almost been completely normal. For a normal person anyway. No one noticed him, no one spoke to him. When Harry walked through the halls, humming to himself, no one batted an eye. Harry was about to burst into song he was so happy.

No one questioned him when he conversed with the ghosts, specifically the ever evasive Grey Lady (she was just as skittish as ever). No one bothered him when he took a nap where the Whomping Willow would eventually be planted, and boy was it odd for it to not be there. And finally, when Harry went to bed, no one questioned the well-placed silencio and wards Harry erected . Harry couldn’t have been more at ease. He had been worried about the questions, the other children’s curiosity. Instead, nothing. People in the 40’s actually respected your space, something Harry couldn’t have ever imagined.

And Sunday was the complete opposite. Slytherins from 5th year and above questioned and hung around him from dawn to dusk. Someone was always there to say something to him, to ask about his life before Hogwarts and any and all events that had taken place. Someone even came to escort him to the toilet of all places! His clothes, books, hair, were all scrutinized, his actions...his words. They pecked and pecked until there was nothing left, at least, everything that could be taken politely.

And that may just be the worst part. They had been nice. And if that didn’t set Harry's teeth on edge he didn’t know what would. Each one, with their eerily similar Pureblood faces, perfect white teeth, and cunning eyes, would ask him questions, quiet and nice and sweet. To anyone else Harry was sure they’d be utterly charming. And to be honest, to begin with he had been completely fooled.

An older girl, reminiscent of Daphne Greengrass, had joined him by the fire in the morning, her yellow hair like spun gold. Her blue eyes were cold though, like diamonds. Of course, he didn’t notice. He had just been finishing chapter six of his Advanced Light Arts Volume III, when she daintily sat beside him, eyes trained on her own book. He looked over at her, heart warming a bit inside.

She sure is pretty... but he shut his mind abruptly at that, thoughts of Ginny overriding such things. A blush managed to overcome him though, and when she saw it she smiled, face soft, but teeth sharp. And Harry was suddenly reminded of Eileen.

“Hi. My name’s--”

“Flamel. Yes, I’ve heard. I’m Drusilla Greengrass.”

Harry grasped her hand softly, the warmth of her hand sending his heart aflutter. He let loose a large smile, oddly wanting to give her hand a kiss like those really suave men did in the muggle films he had caught peeks of in the dead of night.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you D- Ms. Greengrass. What made you get up so early?”

And they talked for what seemed like hours. She was a riveting conversationalist, laughing at all the right times, telling her own stories, personable, but not enough. Something about it had been off, something Harry hadn’t been able to grasp. He chose to ignore this though, instead deciding that those thoughts were most likely past prejudices. Something he was adamant about losing. Such ideas were petty and stupid, two things he had no plan on remaining.

Eventually their time had come to an end, and while their conversation hadn’t ended awkwardly, it had ended abruptly.

“So, what’s with your name? I mean, Harry’s pretty regular, no story there, but sometimes Pureblood’s have special names. Does Drusilla mean anything important?” Greengrass’s fingernail flicked across the leather of the chair, leaving a slight mark that disappeared instantly.

“Firstborns in the Greengrass family always have names beginning with the letter “D”. It represents determination, dignity, and desire. Determine to succeed, show dignity while doing so, and all that you desire will be yours. Our family has always followed this tradition, and I represent our dedication through not only action, but name.”

Harry nodded at that, pleasantly surprised by such a rich answer. He had continually pushed the conversation to more topics centered around his new friend, but she had evaded at all turns...expertly.

“That’s wonderful. I mean, having such a tradition. Must be rough though.” At that Drusilla looked to Harry, hand coming to rest on her lap instead of the couch.

“How so, may I ask?” Harry moved his hand to rub his neck awkwardly, biting his lip simultaneously.

“I mean, the pressure must get to you sometimes. Having to constantly represent your family. I...can’t imagine feeling that way.” Harry looked over, hoping the girl wouldn’t see his lie. He did know that feeling. All too well.

“I...see. It is, at times, I suppose. But family is the most important thing in this world. And I would do anything for mine. Would you?” Harry’s nervousness disappeared at that, eyes lighting with an inner fire.

“That is something we can definitely agree on Ms. Greengrass.” Silence had continued for another few minutes, Harry himself absorbed in his own thoughts, while Drusilla looked at his face, a smile creeping onto her own.

Things had only gotten weirder after that.

Anthony Parkinson followed him around from breakfast to lunch, questions on his upbringing and blood status making him uneasy. Harry had said “halfblood” without heat, and soon after he had left, mumblings of suspicious words starting with “m” under his breath. Of course, right behind him was another Pureblood, this one unrecognizable to him.

“Hugo Lovett, at your service.” He had been exceedingly charming, all smiles and sweet words. And that’s when he had gotten suspicious. The boy was too nice, too good. Slytherins just couldn’t be like that. He wanted something from Harry, and Harry wanted to know what.

“So Lovett...do you need something?” This had been the fifth inane conversation the boy had started by sitting down and intruding on his own quiet time. Does a book in hand not signal wanting to be left alone here? Why can’t they ignore me like yesterday...

“Well--I mean, nothing in particular. Just, wanting to get to know our newest student is all. Now, why don’t you tell me more about--”

“I-no, just stop. You guys have been pestering me for Merlin knows how long. We both know it, and I’m bloody well sick of avoiding the obvious. You want something from me, and to be honest, I have no reason or want to play silly games with you about it.

If you want something, just ask. Then you can go off and do something more interesting, and more importantly, so can I. Got me?” Lovett’s smile wavered, but remained somehow, albeit a little less bright.

“Of course. I...didn’t mean to insult your intelligence. I wanted to inquire on the book you’re reading. Light Arts, was it?” Harry looked down and nodded, eyebrows furrowed and lips pinched.

“How was asking about my favorite book as a child earlier going to help you learn that?”

At that Hugo laughed, loud and rough. His smile sharpened, something all older Slytherins seemed able to pull off easily, and often. No wonder everyone thinks they’re evil. They all look absolutely devious.

“I would have... inferred. That’s the way of Slytherin house. Information is not freely given. Ever.” Harry laughed, the sudden need to smack this crazy kid upside the head overwhelming.

“You just wanted to know about my book. Seriously, no need to plot ways to trick me. I’ll even let you borrow it if you want.” Harry shoved the book at Lovett, an easy smile making its way to his face.

“Tell your buddies too if you want. I’m not... like that. You can be upfront with me. And to be honest, I’d truly prefer the same from you. Now let’s head to the Great Hall, alright? Couldn’t even find my way to my own bloody shoes if you paid me. You’d think Hogwarts was trying to make me get lost. I swear, I found some fourteen year old in this old classroom, messed up and everything, saying he was a firstie, got lost the first day. Can you believe that crock? Scared the magic right out of me…”

They both left, laughing, unknowing of the sharp eyes trailing after them.

And it had only gotten worse from there. Different people, different years, different questions, but by the end of the day Harry knew they had all been the same. They had all been little workers, buzzing about, gathering information. All Harry needed to know was who the Queen Bee was.

“You’ve done... well. What else have you discovered?” Tom sat regally, legs crossed in the armchair, looking over his fingernails absentmindedly. He was the picture of disinterest, boredom.

“M-my lord, he seems interested in Light Magic. I haven’t seen him read anything but. He doesn’t seem like a threat though. He...was open. He realized my inquiries weren’t innocent, that I wanted something--”

“And what did you say Lovett? Did you say you wanted to know if he had ever practiced Dark Magic? Do you think he would be open if you mentioned that little fact?” Hugo bowed his head, not daring to meet Riddle’s eyes, which were like knives, glinting in the light.

“I...don’t know. He seems accepting. But he’s also kind. Too kind. I don’t imagine he could practice them himself, but I don’t think he would be adverse to others exercising them.” Tom nodded, chin coming to lean on his arm which was propped on the arm of the chair.

“I see. Leave now. You bore me.” He flicked his hand at the boy, eyes trailing across the room.

“I-”

“ Now. ”

The words were said with only a hint of inflection, but Riddle’s green eyes bled red, the fire to the side becoming unbearably bright.

“Of course. My apologies.” A smirk lighted Parkinson’s face as Lovett walked with as much pride as a scorned child can.

“My Lord, I come with much more interesting news.” Riddle’s face didn’t change, the blank expression simultaneously frightening and egging the boy on.

“Flamel is a dirty mudblood. I doubt our assumptions on his relation to Nicholas Flamel are true. Either way though, he’ll most definitely be a pathetic muggle-lover.” Riddle’s lips twitched, wand seeming to appear from nowhere in his palm.

“A mudblood, correct? And do you forget what I am Parkinson? Am I a pathetic muggle-lover?” A pale sheen spread across the boy’s face, mouth opening to whisper apologies. Tom’s pale hand was raised, wand lighting red from the fire. “

My wand is awfully eager tonight. It almost seems to jump within my palm, hungry to... play. Will you fulfill its wishes Parkinson?”

"M-my lord, please I didn’t mea--” Tom smiled then, the first change in expression he had made. “

Oh, but I’m asking so nicely. Would you truly say no to such a heartfelt request?” Parkinson gulped, sweat running in rivulets, skin clammy and shaking.

“Of course not. I--”

“ Ferventi.”

Screams echoed through the classroom, unheard from outside, but so clear within. Parkinson scratched at his arms, blood sizzling as it escaped from his veins.

“ Ah ah ah. No, we can’t have that.”

With a wave Anthony was still, the only movement being his eyes, mouth, and the blood leaving a trail of blisters as it flowed down his arms. After a few minutes the boy was merely whimpering, eyes rolled to the back of his head, until he finally fell unconscious with a final cry.

“Hmmm. Did you enjoy that Greengrass?”

Her eyes were dilated with fear and hunger, such awesome power so close but so volatile, so easily used against her. Or for me.

“Simply riveting my Lord.” He grinned at that, and whispered lovingly to his wand, fingers coming to trail across it reverently while his eyes remained crazed and focused on something in the distance.

“I think we could do more love. Don’t you? Wasn’t enough...never enough…” His eyes trailed away, red stretching across the green, like spider webs. His grin was fearsome, the perfect features twisted and ugly.

And with a careless wave Parkinson was released and his features died to their usual blank, wand disappearing back to his holster.

“Leave me. Do what you must for it.” She nodded, as did the others within the room. Tom was then left alone, the fire glinting and soon dying until not even the embers were hot.

It’s gotten worse.

The words spoke from the back of his mind, quiet and accusing. He slipped from the chair, pacing to and fro, Dark Magic still swirling in his mind, powerful...and distracting. Tom let loose his magic, eating the chairs and desks around him, reducing them to nothing. He wanted to scream, to rage and destroy and hurt and... kill. He stopped moving at that, worries pushing through the fog that had shadowed his mind.

“I see.” And he did.

Dark Magic was powerful, and there were reasons why it was illegal to perform most of it. And it was because most wizards were weak. Tom had never thought himself weak; had always known he was stronger and better than most. But the magic he had performed...it was strong. Stronger, perhaps, than him. He let loose a sigh, chair appearing behind him as he fell backward.

“I have to stop.”

Tom didn’t want to, no...but-- he needed to continue. Immortality, permanent escape from death. You’ll die without more Tom. Need more...must make more…

”No.” And he forced the sickly sweet voice away, logic prevailing and his will. If he made more the magic would eat away at him, until there was nothing left. Until he was an idiotic, insane, monster. Tom wasn’t insane, or idiotic. He was better . And to be better, sometimes you have to know where to draw the line.

Tom pushed his hair from his face, straightening his robes as he did so, and made sure a polite smile was stretched across his mouth. He purposely left the room in disarray as he left, enjoying the destruction he had inflicted. He had Head Boy duties to fulfill after all-- he couldn't be late.

“Nasty mudblood. We don’t let your kind sit here.” Harry glanced behind him at Parkinson, his face oddly pale. Today was Monday, and it looked like every Slytherin had decided Harry deserved the brunt of their irritation. T

oday had been the most...expected reaction of the Slytherin house. At least, what he would have imagined from his time period. Unlike yesterday, when they treated him like some fascinating specimen, unfailingly interesting and fun to talk to, today he was hated. It was like the Goblet of Fire all over again, but instead he was a mudblood, not an attention-whore, and only Slytherins hated him. Each day had been different, and the more Harry thought about it, the more he couldn’t help but feel as if he was being tested.

And that idea, while insane and terribly paranoid, fit perfectly. Of course, Harry didn’t know why, or what all of this was proving, and more importantly, he didn’t know who was pulling the strings. And while a small part of Harry wanted to know, an even larger part, one that Harry decided to allow to call the shots, just didn’t give a shit.

“I really don’t care Parkinson. I’m sitting here, and you can sit somewhere else. Tough.” Harry looked back at his food, the sausage glistening, pushing away thoughts on Slytherin games and idiotic Pureblood fanatics.

He’d dealt with so much worse that this kid’s attitude was more laughable than anything. Did they really think he’d just move?   He felt the nearness of a hand, and he tensed, knowing that if that boy decided to touch him he would blow up and Harry really didn’t want to because then he’d be kicked out and Nick would be disappointed and--it was gone. Harry glanced behind him again, sighing in relief when he saw Parkinson walking down, past even his group of sixth years, and finally sat beside the firsties.

How...odd. Harry shook his head again, deciding here and now that he wouldn’t let whoever was doing this get to him. Harry was here to learn as much as he could, and continue healing. What these kids thought didn’t matter. He’d just go with it, for once in his life. He’d dealt with bullies before, and he’d do it again. With a happy sigh, Harry nodded to himself, decision made. Now he just needed to make it through his classes. Should be easy, right?

Tom was having quite a bit of fun. Each of his experiments had proved fruitful, just as they had in the past. Of course, most of his previous experiments had been almost completely known. A hypothesis had been made, and easily proven each time.

To begin with he had thought beings with magic different, but humans, while on the surface very unique, were mostly the same deep inside. Dependent, weak, and desperate for approval.

They crave companionship, a listening ear. An ear they had no interest in offering themselves. Selfish and vile. And each person thought himself better than their brethren-- different. Special. None of them were. Some were less regular, having a few hidden surprises. One of the Ravenclaws actually had OCD, a term he had read from a muggle book of all things, but endlessly fun to play with. He had been fun to break. But overall, they were disgustingly average. No matter the background. Uncomplicated. This boy though, was proving to be one of the most exciting yet.

Tom was sure he had suffered some sort of abuse, either at the hands of his parents or some other, but he was marvelously diligent at hiding it. This of course explained his quietness, and acceptance at being ignored the first day. However, unlike most, he didn’t revel in the attention he received the second. Tom had been expecting the boy to be excited at the prospect of so many friends, so many people dying to listen to his every thought. But no. He hated it. Tom had seen the irritation, the want to be alone.

Tom had in fact felt that same way too many times to count. This did present many unanswered questions though. How had he been so easy at hiding it? None of the others had noticed, none but him. To be so good at hiding such irritation, the boy must have experienced it in the past. Changed schools? No. That can’t just be it. New family? No. Boarding school.

Tom cocked his head, peripheral focused on Flamel, noticing how he stared at his food, no attempt at eating. Why so nervous? Do you fear being alone during classes? Do you fear being made fun of? Tom didn’t get that feeling. No...the boy was oddly apathetic to his peers. He didn’t care for any of them. And the thought of that strangely sent a warmth coiling in his belly, someone who didn’t care just as much as him.

No. He isn’t like us. Not good enough. Never good enough.

Tom’s mind buzzed with information, becoming more and more curious about the boy sitting not ten people away from him. I want to make him cry. I want to make him blubber and scream, beg for comfort. I want to make him like them.

And that thought almost made him smile. He hadn’t completely broke anyone in awhile. At least, not anyone that had already been through anything similar. The last time had been a little second year, just one year below him. She was ugly. Small and frail, very mean. But she’d been cold, cold like Tom. She had been a Pureblood, but one of the smaller families, poor and forgotten.

Tom could smell the abuse on her, had known her life the second he saw her. It had taken the entire year to destroy her, to become her very best friend, to make her tell him her deepest and darkest thoughts, her disgusting desires. She’d never killed before, not like Tom. But she’d wanted to, desperately. And when she completely trusted him, told him everything, he went with her, for her first kill. It was just a kitten, nothing special. But it had been enough. Mid-way Tom left, claiming to want to look up a spell, a spell to keep it alive for just a little longer. She had nodded eagerly, blood all over her hands, a smile on her thin lips. Tom called for Headmaster Dippet, cried and screamed, scared of this monster, this girl that had been killing animals, threatening to kill him too if he told. She’d been sent away, claimed to be ‘unstable’. Her betrayed eyes, cold and shuttered, had left him happy for months. Tom expected this one to be just as delicious.

Flamel suddenly stood and wiped his hands down his pants, quickly snatching up his bag while he ignored the stares that followed after him. Tom wanted to sneer at the lot of them, mindless sheep that stared and stared just because he was new and aesthetically pleasing. He had noticed, time and time again, the charisma Flamel exuded. He hated it, hated everything about this boy. This boy who charmed even his own, the most worthy of his peers. He had seen the pleased glint in Greengrass’s eye, the power hungry whore. And Lovett. He had been positively enraptured. The way he spoke of Flamel’s “kindness”. The little self-serving twit would probably jump at the chance of a leader who showered him with hugs and kisses.

Tom stopped at that, his face going pale internally. A leader?  His grip tightened upon the table, no longer even pretending to pay attention to his subordinates.

Do I think him capable of such a thing? Of matching me? Tom swallowed and cleared his mind, smiling politely at a comment made his way. Only God knew what the fool had said.

We’ve upped the stakes now. Let’s see if the boy can even compete.