This is dedicated to Anna, and may she be at peace now, wherever she is. I may not have known you well at all, but I knew you enough to grieve. I wish I had known you, for now it is too late.
The butterfly counts not months but moments,
and has time enough.
Time is a wealth of change,
but the clock in its parody makes it mere change and no wealth.
Let your life lightly dance on the edges of Time
like dew on the tip of a leaf.
- Rabindranath Tagore
Professor Armando Dippet was not the most powerful of men. Nor was he the wisest though this was not through a lack of experience in the more sanguine incidents that he had experienced throughout his lifetime. He could, quite comfortably say that he was a good man, however many of his peers and colleagues thought him sadly diminished in his declining years- of which there had been over two hundred.
However, this wealth of hundreds of years worth of experience could not possibly have prepared him for the shock of the coming few hours.
Harry Potter however could quite easily claim great power, although as a modest young fifteen year old, preferred not to out of bashfulness. He had experience in many of the darker aspects of life, and having experienced them in such quick succession had jaded him in regard to the nature of man. He claimed no great morality, nor did he ever lay claim to superior intellect.
The natures of these two men were not so different, it must be admitted- both are modest, unassuming individuals who prefer the everyday occurrences in life to the violence of fighting or the suspense that so often accompanied back alley dealings.
What was not expected by either however, was that they should ever meet. For when Harry met Armando Dippet, the latter had been dead three years.
And the latter had been born three hundred and forty three years before Harry had entered the world on the thirty first of July, 1980.
So, when Harry found himself in Headmaster Armando Dippet's office on the twenty-seventh of August 1942 he was understandably somewhat confused with his situation in time.
"So, Mr. Potter, you expect me to believe that you woke up here, in my school, and that you are from fifty three years in the future? That you are not a spy or agent of the Lord Grindelwald, sent to gather intelligence on his enemies? That you are, as you so outrageously claim, a 'time traveller' from 1995?"
"Yes sir." Harry replied. slightly nervous at the old man's scientism- for Harry was perfectly aware of .
The elderly man looked at his discerningly through a pair of light brown eyes, before smiling,
"Well, I suppose if you were a spy from Grindelwald, you'd have a much better excuse to infiltrate my school."
Harry breathed a sigh of relief as the man stepped down from his accusations- for however being a time traveller was unusual and slightly disorientating for him, being a 'subject of concern' in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement would be far more serious.
"Well, Mr Potter, it appears you have a problem," Dippet said, while rummaging in his desk drawers- the sight being somewhat odd to Harry, used to Dumbledore doing the exact same thing five decades to come.
"Yes sir, it appears I do."
"Well, you have two options; first, you could leave here, and go out into the wizarding world and try to find the answer there."
Harry shuddered, for that option was not appealing to him at all- be alone during the Grindelwald years? Even he had learnt enough during History of magic to dread that prospect.
"The second," the headmaster said, looking at the strange boy that had appeared so suddenly in his school only a few days before school began, "is that you enrol as a fifth year here until a solution can be found- if indeed there is one."
"I think i'd rather take your second option sir." Harry said almost immediately, much preferring that option- how bad could school be?
An answer to that question came five days later.
It could get a lot worse.
It was the night of September the First, and the stragglers were just clambering out of the thestral drawn carriages as Harry-no, Harper- waited in the small atrium of the entrance hall for the second time in his life.
Under the instruction of Headmaster Dippet, Harry had spent the previous five days fabricating a believable back story for himself.
Now, he was Harper Phineas Gold, (illegitimate) grandson of the disowned and deceased Phineas Black.
Phineas had been disowned for cavorting with a muggle; but what even he did not know was that the muggle had been with child when he had discarded her weeks after his disowning- for he had never truly loved her.
Alone in the world, the girl, a Hannah Gold, had given birth to a son she named Phineas, after his Father. In reality, her and her newborn son had died tragically in a fire in the hospice she was residing in. However, what witch or wizard would know this?
So, Dippet had created a truly impressive paper trail that invented that Hannah Gold had married another muggle, a Hector Strauss, and together they had moved to America with a six year old son to start afresh.
Phineas grew up unaware of his magical talent- and the fact that his Father had been a wizard- and as he was not an American citizen, never received an invitation to Salem or any of the other magical academies in North America. He never became aware of his own magic till it was too late for anything to be done about his education-not that he'd ever really fantasised about being a wizard in his youth- so he settled for being a lawyer. As the fates would have it however, he met Katherine Bayard when he was twenty one. She was a homeschooled Irish witch studying in America, and it was 'love at first sight'. Four years later they married, and together they came back over the Atlantic, and settled in London in 1925, and were blessed with a son in 1927.
The lived happily, the young 'Harper' being homeschooled just as his Mother had been, until both of his parents had been killed in a German bombing in August 1942.
The Ministry of magic, now aware that a magical child had been orphaned, brought 'Harper' into their custody, and it was decided that he would attend Hogwarts. Which all led to a young man with longer black hair, clear green eyes and pale skin standing in an atrium of the entrance hall.
Harry was perfectly aware that this lie was rather a long one- but he could prove he had Black blood in him, and the headmaster assured him spells were not so advanced that one's immediate family could be identified, so he was safe on that account- and he felt nervous as he waited for the first years to arrive, and the Sorting to begin.
His thoughts were interrupted when the clamour of first years were led into the small hall by a tall male Professor- perhaps it was Professor Dunedin- and all the first years looked at him with something similar to terror. That thought made Harry scoff; did they think he was going to dismember them, but he remembered how scared he'd been the first time he had been sorted, and decided to give the little idiots some slack.
When the teacher left them- presumably to set up the Sorting Hat in the Great hall- all the first years began to whisper in a silent cacophony. Harry swore he could see a young Professor Sprout among the throng- and was that Madam Hooch?
It was strange seeing his old teachers so young- even stranger was being four years older than them...
But the male teacher had returned, and quickly marched them all- including Harry- out of the atrium and into the massive Great Hall. Harry almost shuddered at the feeling of hundreds of curious eyes on him as he walked behind the first years.
Tom Riddle sat surrounded by his housemates as they waited for the Sorting to begin.
Tom was not terribly excited- why should he be?- for the new first years would most likely have no potential, nor would they have any interest in his future plans or his political games.
He did admit however, that watching his friends was quite amusing.
They had a running betting pool on which first years would be sorted into which houses. Some were obviously a given- such as Orion Black becoming a Slytherin two years ago, and Bartemius Crouch becoming a Gryffindor.
So, this year looked to be a repeat of the old entertainment as Sebastian Avery and Thaddeus Nott placed their -predictably large-money bags on the table as the first years were led in.
And then something caught the usually aloof Tom Riddle's interest- for trailing behind the line of first years was a teen who looked to be about his age. Pale, lithe and with a shock of black hair, the boy- while looking nothing special- carried an aura of peculiar power in that stride of his.
"Who's that?" Lestrange asked, being the second to notice the boy who was most obviously not a first year.
"Hush, Dippet's speaking!"
Malfoy always had be sycophantic to those who held any authority... such as himself for that matter.
"Welcome students, to a new year at Hogwarts!" Dippet boomed, the sonorous charm on his frail voice amplifying it far louder than it would otherwise be, "I would not normally begin the Sorting with a speech, so I will endeavour to be brief.
As you may have noticed, there is another among the first years to be sorted tonight. His name is Harper Gold, and he will be joining the sixth year after being transferred to Hogwarts in light of recent events.
Now, I will let the Sorting begin, as I have held up the Hat quite long enough." Dippet smiled jovially, and seated himself once more upon the golden chair at the high table.
And the hat that sat so inconspicuously on the four legged stool on the steps of the dais to the high table opened its brim wide and began to sing in a raspy, hoarse voice;
"One thousand years ago I was made
By four sorcerers with power in spades
Gryffindor the Bold from wild moors
Hufflepuff so Sweet from ocean shores
Ravenclaw the Wise from mountain glens
and Slytherin the Great form boggy fens
To teach the young all they knew
That was what they resolved to do
So children came from far and wide
To the castle by the Black Lake side
To learn the magic's of those four
The sorcerers greatest in Hogwarts lore
Godric Gryffindor favoured the brave
Those among you of adventure you do crave
Helga Hufflepuff took the loyal
Those among you who know how to toil
Rowena Ravenclaw would prefer the best
Those that will learn all and then the rest
That leaves Salazar Slytherin, the Last
Who only wanted the sly, the 'ruling class'.
So, what will you be, you younglings here today?
Well, step up, find out,
I haven't got all day."
The school began to clap, and Harry smiled to himself- it seems the hat had no need to sing songs that contained a warning message in every line in this year.
The Professor Dunedin then rose to stand by the hat, a long list clenched in his long fingered hand.
"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted" he said, and there was a moments heavy pause before he read,
"Avalon, Mary."
And the girl stepped up to the hat, and it considered her for a moment before-
"RAVENCLAW"
And so the ceremony continued with little excitement (except for two Slytherins who were currently equal in their betting game) until-
"Gold, Harper." was read, and Harry stepped up to the hat. Of course he didn't see Tom Riddle sit up that little bit straighter at the Slytherin table- for even the Slytherin was intrigued by this teen who already presented himself as an enigma.
Harry blinked as the rosy golden light of the Great Hall was shut out by the brim of the still too large hat, and waited in the long, muffled silence until-
"Ah, hello again." muttered into his ears, and Harry flinched at the small voice that seemed to bear the weight of such great knowledge.
"I'm not sure that this is allowed, Mr Potter; i've never had to sort anyone else twice..."
"Looks like you're going to have to." thought Harry back at the hat in irritation.
"Touché Mr Potter... Now, where to put you... There's plenty of burning courage in you, of that there is no question... a reckless streak too- and is that a hero complex I see hovering in the background? My my, you aren't the most emotionally complex of individuals at first glance are you?"
"Just put me back in Gryffindor, please." Harry thought desperately.
"Oh no, there's more to you than just that Mr Potter, of that I am sure. Ah, see! There's great talent in that head of yours, you just don't really use it, do you? And there's a nice loyalty to your friends- but not to that Headmaster of yours, now that is a story i'd like to hear if only we had the time- but oh, look at that..."
"What?" Harry thought with a pang of nerves, surely the hat wasn't going to-
"Yes, a thirst to prove yourself, how about that? Ambition, and not a small amount of cunning either, no doubt about that- no?"
"Not Slytherin, not Slytherin!" Harry thought, the déjà vu of the situation slamming into him like a double-decker bus.
"Nice try, but i've already fallen for that one- or it appears I will in a few decades time at any rate. A Slytherin you are Mr Potter, and to Slytherin you shall go!"
"Please-" But Harry never got to finish thinking his plea to the hat, as it bellowed,
"SLYTHERIN!"
Harry was tempted to throw a fit, and demand the hat resort him, but realised that may be counterproductive in the long term, so walked over to the table with the silver and green banners. And then almost had a heart attack that he could barely stop from showing on his face.
His luck really was terrible. Tom Riddle was a Slytherin fifth year as well.
He was sharing a dormitory with a young Lord Voldemort.
"Welcome to Slytherin," the teenage Dark Lord smiled- though the smile was akin to that of a shark, all teeth and no warmth-"I'm Tom Riddle, pleased to make your acquaintance."
"Harper Gold," Harry replied, "and thank you."
"Oh, that's no trouble at all" Riddle charmed, and with a look, a seat was opened up opposite him between two dark haired and slightly ominous boys. Deciding to just take the forthcoming conversation and not offend who was clearly the leader of the Slytherin fifth year boys, he sat down in the provided space. The boy on his left turned and smiled slightly.
"Thaddeus Nott. It's a pleasure."
At Nott's introduction, the other boys sitting around the table began introducing themselves- some more enthusiastically than others.
"Abraxus Malfoy."
"Sebastian Avery."
"Romulus Lestrange."
"Seebohm Mulciber."
"Albert Rosier."
"Pleasure." Harry responded to the introductions in one swoop, his mind whirring to keep up with the influx of new names and faces that he had to keep straight or risk horrendous embarrassment.
Now settled at the table, the conversation resumed to a dull murmuring as the Sorting came to a close as "Zenith, Arran" became the final Slytherin first year.
"So, Harper," Tom began, his voice slick like blood and melted chocolate, and Harry could just feel the beginning of an interrogation, "what caused you to start Hogwarts so late?"
"Some family issues cropped up, and the easiest solution was thought to be to enrol me in Hogwarts."
"Oh now, i'm interested Harper. Continue." and even Harry, brave as he was- didn't want to challenge the ringing authority that voice held.
"I was recently homeschooled by my Mother, as that was a family tradition, and she had no desire to send her only child away for most of the year. She deemed herself perfectly capable of teaching me at home.
However, the Muggle war recently resulted in the German muggles bombing the British muggles, and my parents were in the wrong place at the wrong time. They were killed in an explosion, and our home destroyed. The Ministry thought it best that I be placed at Hogwarts as I have no relatives who can take me in aside from my Grandmother's husband, who lives in the United States."
The slightly awkward silence that followed these words was only broken by the one Harry thought was Malfoy (due to his brilliantly pale blonde hair) said,
"I'm sorry, then."
"You didn't kill them Malfoy, no need to be sorry."
"True. But what right do muggles have to-"
"Abraxus, that's enough." Tom then interrupted sharply, and looked at Harry, his voice softening slightly. "He's right though. The muggles should be stopped."
Harry smiled sadly, then turned back to his roast potatoes, and the talk turned swiftly to lighter things.
Harry observed his new housemates as they ate, keeping himself out of the conversation so as to watch them.
He noticed that Lestrange, Rosier and Mulciber were quieter, more reserved and unsure of their positions in the group, while Malfoy, Avery and Nott were far more cocksure and confident, comfortable in their positions.
Riddle however was clearly the leader despite his minimal interaction with the other boys, only really responding to direct questions and rebuking the more inane topics that were brought up.
Harry realised that to survive the Slytherin house political system, he was going to have to stay on Tom Riddle's good side- not that he wanted to. But being standoffish and rude would only serve to anger the budding psychopath, or increase the already growing sense of curiosity he had about the new transfer student.
By the time the main course vanished and pudding materialised, Tom was looking over at him, eyeing him carefully as a farmer inspects his stock.
"It must have been hard, losing your parents, then being forced to come here to Hogwarts- a place that is so different to what you have been accustomed to." he said, and Harry geared himself for a reply.
"I've always been able to cope with big, sudden changes in my life, so this is just another hurdle in life that has to be straddled." Harry replied.
"That's remarkably philosophical of you Gold."
"Harper, please. My Father was Mr Gold, and..."
"Harper it is, though in return you must call me Tom."
"You have yourself a deal, Tom."
By this point, most of the students on all the house tables had finished pudding, so the Headmaster stood, and smiling genially at his students spoke with such authority that Harry truly understood for the first time why this aged and frail man held the slightly strenuous position as headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
"Welcome again, students, to a new year at this fine institute of magic and learning.
I would like to take this opportunity to not only welcome you all back from a hopefully long and happy summer, but to also welcome back the staff. Aside from the truly exulting teachers of last year, it pleases me to welcome new faces into the staff. Mr Tobias Sage will take over Professor Thumb's position as Professor of Charms as Professor Thumb expressed a desire to travel in his declining years- and not teach students-"
Chuckles and cheers interrupted this statement, and from what Harry could gather from the snickering Slytherins that surrounded him, Thumb had been a true disciplinarian with little love for Slytherins.
"-and a Miss. Periwinkle Darcy will take up the post of Arithmancy Professor after the sudden and tragic passing of dear Ms Gharles."
Clapping welcomed the new teachers, though Harry noticed that Tom seemed not to be enthused by new teachers. But, he was probably worried one of them would see straight through his angelic act, thought Harry with no small degree of cynicism.
"Well, as I believe that is everything of note, I say this- to your beds, and be ready for your classes tomorrow. Goodnight!"
The Hall soon erupted into a clamour of chatter and feet as the prefects hustled their First years out of the hall and towards their respective common rooms. Riddle- who appeared to have bribed the sixth year prefect to do his duties- stood, and the rest of the group followed him. Harry tried to linger in the background, but the ever observant Riddle called casually over his shoulder,
"Come on Harper, if you linger behind you'll get lost- and we can't have that on your first day, can we?"
Curse over-observant Slytherins, thought Harry. Why couldn't they just let him languish in peace?
But he obliged Tom anyway, hurrying behind him as he strode majestically through the hall and down into the dungeons. Harry was now glad that he had a guide, as he was quite sure that he'd never be able to find his way to the common room on his own for quite some time.
Tom finally stopped after a sequence of dizzying passages in front of a vaguely familiar wall. Flourishing his wand from its concealment up his sleeve, he tapped it and in a voice loud enough for his companions to hear the new password said,
"Purus Sanguis."
And the wall seemed to waver, as if it was in a heat wave- despite the chill that lingered in the damp air of the Hogwarts dungeons- and Tom walked without a flinch or backwards glance through it. After a mere second of slight apprehension, Harry followed.
Stepping through the strange haze that tingled like pins-and-needles Harry saw the Slytherin Common room and took it in properly- for the first time he had set eyes on it, he had been concentrating too hard on Malfoy to pay real attention.
The room was roughly circular, and the walls were of flat-cut grey stone that glinted softly in the light from the pale candles that dripped in their sconces stapled to the stone. A fire burned brightly in the fireplace carved with ornate snakes with emeralds for eyes, and the furniture dotted around the cavernous space was all of green velvet and dark wood.
Harry couldn't imagine a room that was so different in its decor to the Gryffindor common room.
Tom was over by the fire, talking to a taller and darker young man who bore a prefects badge identical to Tom's on his chest. Seeing that Harry and the other sixth year boys had arrived, he nodded a imperious farewell to the older prefect and strode over.
"Come, i'll show you to our dormitory- I expect you're tired."
"Quite- it's been a long day."
There was no need for conversation after that, and the group descended five flights of stairs before reaching a door engraved with
FIFTH YEAR BOYS
Upon its front. Opening the door, Tom said,
"Your bed should be the one in the corner."
Harry was lying under the green silk covers in the four-poster bed that was just as soft as his old one up in the Gryffindor tower.
Thinking back over the last few days, Harry was almost scared at how... personable Tom Riddle was at fifteen. His soul was as yet still whole and unburdened by murder, and he had yet to open the Chamber of Secrets. The teen seemed a little megalomaniacal to be sure, but Harry didn't think he was anything like as insane as he had been in1995.
But he couldn't afford to think like that- this was Tom Riddle, Lord Voldemort. This was the boy that in a years' time would try to murder every muggleborn in the school in cold blooded malice. This was the fifteen year old that would grow up to be the most terrifying Dark Lord that the Wizarding World had seen since Loxias the Bloody ravaged the land with a rod of burning iron.
He had to get back to his own time, see Hermione and Ron and Dumbledore. he had to get home, and then this nightmare would hopefully fade into the background of his mind- he would forget.
And with that resolution in mind, he fell asleep to dreams that when he awoke in the morning, he would remember none of.
A.N.
I dedicated this fic to a girl who died recently. I didn't know her at all really, but my school is a tight nit community and it affected us all. I don't even know if she liked Harry Potter, but she has to be remembered. And she will be.
I hope you liked the fic, and i'll have the next chapter up soon.
Baggenshield