A/n: The little bit about German is not exactly relevant unless I decide to do certain things in the future, but I wanted to tell you guys that yes, anyone can learn a language and learning the language actually does get more fun when you can kind of understand it. Harry getting to intermediate level German in a month might seem a bit fast but since you can get to intermediate level Latin in two months (in the form of torturous summer courses), I'm sure it's not impossible. It just requires a lot of motivation and free time. So I don't know, if you were thinking of learning a language but then despairing that you aren't good enough at that sort of thing, let me assure you that you are. Seriously, it's not as hard as it sounds.
Harry sat on the plush cushioning of the Hogwarts Express, reading a simple German novel. He allowed the babble of Platform nine and three quarters as parents and children said their goodbyes to wash over him, the background noise helping to calm him.
After Dippet had approved of Harry's status, he'd been allowed to remain with Dumbledore until the start of the term. Afterwards he was meant to find accommodations, but Harry figured they'd figure out the ritual circle before then. For now, a month long stay with a teacher in Hogwarts due to the fact he had no guardian was acceptable to Dippet.
During the month, Dumbledore had suggested to Harry to learn German. While not required, Dumbledore had thought that it would be helpful, and he did not believe that Harry was incapable of learning it. After some thought about how he was going to be sharing sleeping quarters with the future Lord Voldemort, Harry agreed that it was a good idea. Magic made studying easier, as did the fact that of all the languages, it was German that English shared the most traits with.
He did not have to be able to speak it, as he could always find a way to refuse the request, but he had to at least be passible in reading and writing in order to throw off suspicion. It was a small price to pay and even enjoyable, especially with Dumbledore as a professor. Harry had only known him as a Headmaster and as the lessons progressed, he thought it was a shame.
It helped that there was little to do in Hogwarts during the summer, although it was infinitely better than the Dursleys. However the only company present was three other teachers, the house elves, and the ghosts. He didn't even have summer homework to entertain him. He could not go flying on account of having no broom and having the ones of Hogwarts restricted from use during the holidays.
Strangely enough, the better he got at the foreign language, the more he seemed to like it. He still occasionally struggled with the more complex grammar, but he was at the point where he could mostly determine the correct meaning of a block of text. Bemusedly, he had to wonder if that was the reason Hermione was so keen on learning and testing herself.
The train began to move. He heard, distantly, the sound of pounding feet and shutting doors as people scrambled for a compartment. Finally the door to his own compartment slid open, revealing a boy with blond hair and wicked brown eyes. Three other boys were peering in behind him.
"Oh hullo," the light haired boy said, "Mind if we sit here? Nowhere else has enough room for the four of us."
Harry closed his book; he liked the novel but he wasn't so keen on studying that he'd ignore a greeting. Distraction was always welcome. He grinned, "Well, it's not my train, is it?"
The blond laughed, striding in and holding out a hand for Harry to shake, "I like you, I'm Jeremy Prewett."
Harry's brows wrinkled. Prewett sounded familiar to him but he could not remember from where he had heard it. Inwardly he shrugged. Oh well.
"Harry Evans," The green eyed boy said, shaking Jeremy's hand firmly.
"Evans… I've never heard that name before," One of the three boys from behind said, also stepping in.
Harry eyed the one who had spoken. He was dirty blond, rather than Jeremy's ash, but was much taller and walked with a bit of a strut. It looked like pureblood rearing. If these were the Slytherins, then Harry had to act like he at least cared a little about blood supremacy. However, he needed Riddle's interest more. "I'm half blood."
The dirty blond blinked, then flushed, "Oh, that's not what I meant. I mean… I've never heard of an Evans at Hogwarts before. I don't care about that blood stuff. It's all rubbish. Brandon—" Here, he jerked his thumb towards the last two boys, who were busy stashing away their trunks in the compartment, "—is a half blood too, and Chris is muggleborn."
They were not Slytherins, then.
Harry allowed himself to relax, "Oh. I'm a transfer student."
"Transfer?" One of the other boys –a brown haired one- perked up, having finished putting away his things. Harry wasn't sure if he was Brandon or Chris. "I never knew Hogwarts students accepted transfers."
"They don't, I don't think." The last one, the black haired one, answered, also having finished with his trunk and taking a seat across from Harry. He peered at Harry intensely, making the green eyed boy slightly uncomfortable. Harry hoped he didn't show it.
Jeremy grinned and plopped down beside Harry, eyeing him mischievously, "My, my, we've got a mystery on our hands."
Finally, the black haired one took his unnerving blue eyes off Harry, and instead rolled them at Jeremy, "If this is a 'mystery', it'll only last until Dippet's speech. Oh right, I've to go to a prefect's meeting."
Jeremy pouted, "Aw Brandon, you spoil everything. Well, bye!"
So it was Brandon, then. Harry had a feeling he'd have to keep an eye on him. Or at least, avoid him when possible.
Brandon stood up, waved, and left the compartment to the various goodbyes and 'see ya laters' of the occupants. The boy with dirty blond hair took his seat.
The brown haired boy, whom Harry now determined was Chris, sat down beside the dirty blond and gave a lopsided smile to Jeremy, "But you know he's right. Headmaster Dippet's sure to announce any interesting news, and a transfer student's definitely interesting news. Say, what house are you in?"
Harry considered for a moment. He didn't want to tell them so early, for he had a feeling it'd stilt any further conversation, so instead Harry decided to play the ignorant transfer student. "Oh yeah, I've been meaning to ask. What's with this house stuff anyway? My old school didn't have it, and I don't really get what the big deal is."
"You don't get it?!" Jeremy gasped, putting his hands to his heart in mock horror, "Oh you poor poor deprived child. House differences are as different as night and day!"
"Yes," The dirty blond whom Harry had yet to get the name of answered sourly, "Slytherins are gits who only care about themselves, Hufflepuffs are loyal but like sheep, Ravenclaws are smartasses, and the only house really worth it is Gryffindor."
Harry felt his eyebrow twitch despite himself; he loved Gryffindor, but he wouldn't go as far as to say it was the only house worth it. Heck, their real Hogwarts champion during the Triwizard Tournament had been a Hufflepuff! Harry opened his mouth to disagree, but someone already beat him to it.
"Oh stop being such a prejudiced git, Silas." Jeremy said with a roll of his eyes, then smiled apologetically at Harry, "Don't mind him, he's awfully close minded at times. We're not all that dense; in fact there's not a lot of difference between houses."
'Silas' snorted, but didn't continue on.
"Gryffindors are known for their courage," Chris said helpfully, his wide innocent eyes reminding Harry awfully of Hermione, "Ravenclaws for their intelligence, Hufflepuffs for their loyalty, and Slytherins for their cunning. But that doesn't mean a Hufflepuff can't be smart, a Slytherin can't be brave, or a Gryffindor can't be cunning. The purpose of the houses is just to put people with similar interests and values together, to increase your chances of making livelong friends."
Harry blinked, rather amazed. That was… different. During Harry's years at Hogwarts, the differences between the houses couldn't be more pronounced. People like Silas were common. Here, it seemed that Silas was the odd one out. Had Voldemort's reign changed the view of Slytherin that much?
"Since when where you guys such pretenders?" Silas sneered, "You guys dislike Slytherins as much as I do. It's only because of Tom Bloody Riddle you can even tolerate them."
Harry's interested perked. Tom Riddle? And from the sounds of it, Voldemort even had this much influence over Gryffindors.
"For the last time, will you give it up on Tom?" Jeremy asked with a roll of his eyes, "He's a nice guy, alright?"
"Yeah!" Chris cut in, "He helped me with that charms essay once, remember? I didn't even ask for it, and I got an O on that essay!"
"You'd get an O anyway," Silas muttered.
"That was different! It was really hard!" Chris glared heatedly at Silas, but then seemed to realize something, "Oh, Harry! Sorry, you must have no idea what we're talking about."
He couldn't quite help the wry smile which curled across his lips. It was an ironic turn of phrase Chris used. Out of all of them, Harry probably had the most idea. Tom the bloody charmer had struck again, except… expect Silas didn't seem be under Tom's illusion. Though that might be just prejudice talking, and Silas may very well turn away from Harry once he found out that the green eyed boy was a Slytherin, Harry couldn't help but wonder if he'd found a tentative ally.
"No problem," Harry said, wondering if he'd taken too long to reply, "I must be a bother here anyway—" Everyone protested to this, even Silas, but Harry barged on, "—but now I'm curious; who is this Tom Riddle?"
"A bloody manipulator," Silas said immediately.
It was again, Chris who answered the question without bias, "He's the most intelligent student of our year, probably of the whole school too. All the teachers love him, but he isn't stuck up like. He's real nice to other students too. And he's really funny. Yeah, he's good at manipulating, but he's a Slytherin and you expect that. He's most likely to be the Minster of Magic when he grows up."
"And he's handsome too," Jeremy said with a longing sigh, receiving alarmed glances from the other occupants of the compartment. Jeremy blinked, then threw up his hands, "Ugh, not like that guys! I meant, he's got everything! Looks, brains, and charms. What I would give…"
"So," Harry decided not to pay attention to Jeremy, who was reminding him awfully of the Weasley twins. "What do you think of Tom Riddle, Silas?"
Silas sneered at first, but then a contemplative expression settled on his face, as if he were really thinking about the question instead of just reacting to it. "I guess… I guess everything Chris said is true, but he's really downplaying the manipulative part. I'm a pureblood and I was reared to catch expression and the correct responses to them. But even I can't tell when Riddle's being sincere or not. Most others just think he's being sincere all the time, but I don't trust it. If Riddle was sorted into Slytherin, at heart he can't be that guileless. Actually, Jeremy should know be able to tell too, but his family's always been less strict with etiquette than ours."
Jeremy snorted, then gave a wink to Harry, "Yep, the Diggorys are old prudes; they think everyone's against them."
Silas glared at the red haired boy, but Harry hardly noticed. Harry could hardly move, eyes wide at Jeremy's words. An old feeling of disgusted guilt flooded through him, making it hard to breath. Di-Di-Diggory?
"Hey," Chris looked at Harry worriedly, "Are you alright?"
Harry blinked, and shook himself out of his stupor. He wasn't at his Hogwarts anymore, and this wasn't Cedric Diggory whom he was sitting with. He couldn't afford to act suspiciously, even if it was he who had effectively killed Silas's heir. Harry opened his mouth—
And was effectively interrupted by the trolley lady as she shoved open their compartment door and offered them various candies with a toothy grin. Harry quickly recovered and bought his favourites, while Jeremy, Silas, and Chris also chimed in with what they wanted. After the trolley lady left, everyone seemed to have forgotten Harry's episode.
…or maybe not. Silas was still shooting Harry suspicious glances, but even those became subdued as time passed. It wasn't until later that Harry realized that his reaction to Silas's name had probably never left the Gryffindors' minds, but they had simply let it go when they saw his normal behaviour afterwards.
At some point Brandon came back, and they got into a huge debate over the merits of Blood Lollies and would they really keep off a vampire? Jeremy had some crazy theories about the real ways to escape from a vampire— or more accurately, seduce them so that they won't want to kill you. Brandon surprisingly went along with Jeremy, though he actually tried to use some semblance of logic. Chris objected good-naturedly with studies that none of them had ever heard about before, and Silas simply snorted and acted bored, though everyone could tell he wasn't really. Harry found himself relaxing despite himself.
So easy to act the Gryffindor. For a moment he felt regret at his choice, because he could see himself easily spending the year with these four. He doubted it would be like this in Slytherin.
When the speakers overhead announced that they were nearing Hogwarts, Harry was actually disappointed that the train ride was nearly over. He sighed, and got to changing his robes.
"Oh," Jeremy said in surprise when he saw the crest on Harry's robes, "You're a Slytherin?"
"Yes," Harry said dryly in jest, "I realize now that it might not be such a good thing."
Jeremy quickly shook his head, "Hey no worries man, I don't care about that. Neither does Chris nor Brian. And Silas…"
Silas was turning red. He raised one, accusing finger at Harry, "You— you're— all this time you made us think— you slimy Slytherin!"
"Slimy Slytherin?" Jeremy said sarcastically, "Really Silas? Really?"
Silas glared at him, brown eyes hard. He snarled, and threw the compartment door open. Giving Harry one last loathing look, Silas turned to leave, "I'm not sharing compartments with a deceiving snake. See you at the feast."
With that, the blond slammed the door shut, leaving the room silent.
"Well," Jeremy said cheerfully, "That went well."
"Yeah," Harry said tonelessly. He had prepared himself for that kind of reaction, and after Second Year, after Fifth Year, after Seamus, after Ron, he thought he'd be used to it. It turned out he wasn't.
Brandon sighed, shaking his head. He looked to Harry, his face apologetic, "Don't worry about Silas, he's just being an idiot. Though Jeremy didn't make it any better. Silas was coming to like you, I think, and he feels betrayed that you're in Slytherin. I think he was secretly hoping that you'd be a Gryffindor like us, though now that I think about it, it's obvious that you aren't. Otherwise, why wouldn't you mention your house?"
Harry stared at the other boy, wondering what part of that was supposed to make him feel better.
"I think what Brandon's trying to say," Chris interjected, "is that Silas will come around. He's just afraid that the Slytherins will make you hate us."
"I think he also might be afraid that you're turning us against him," Brian mused, "It didn't really matter when it seemed like you'd become part of our group anyway, but now… and Jeremy's comments certainly didn't help matters. Well, it doesn't matter."
"Doesn't it?" Harry questioned, "He's your friend. Aren't you guys… worried about him?"
Jeremy shot him a surprised look, then grinned, "Who, Silas? Nah, he can take care of himself. He's really hot-headed though. We're just waiting for him to cool down."
Harry nodded, accepting what Jeremy said at face value. They were not his friends after all, and he couldn't hope to understand their group dynamics. For all he knew, it might be like a situation with Ron and Hermione, minus the underlying hormones.
The train finally came to a stop, and the students scrambled onto the carriages. The thresals acknowledge him, but Harry ignored them, not wanting to draw any unnecessary attention to himself. Thankfully, no one else could really see the invisible horses, so no one called him out on it.
When they finally got to Hogwarts, Harry parted with the Gryffindors, feeling a stab of loneliness as he did so. No more could he enjoy the easy company and lax manner of the House of Courage. Now he'd have to enter a place where subtly meant everything, and relaxing meant death.
Okay, so maybe he was exaggerating a little, but with Riddle there, who really knew? Harry recalled that Riddle had willingly opened the Chamber of Secrets, and while there had been no fatalities outside of Myrtle, it did show that Riddle wasn't afraid to use dark magic.
Not for the first time, Harry wondered if he was truly prepared to live with the charismatic sociopath. But there were little downsides. Voldemort was already out to kill him so he didn't really have to worry about incurring Riddle's wrath if he made a mistake, and no long term consequence could touch him.
Following a few other students, Harry took a seat at the Slytherin table, watching as the chattering teenagers filed in; giggling girls exchanging summer news of new beaus and new trends, smirking boys with darting glances, and friends shouting greetings to friends from other houses. A few older years spared a curious glance in Harry's direction, but then seemed to shrug it off, probably thinking that Harry was simply a year above or below them.
His fingers tapping out a staccato beat across the table, he leant back and turned his attention to the staff stand instead.
There were many faces Harry didn't recognize, but the biggest difference of all was that instead of Dumbledore sitting in the high-backed golden chair at the centre, it was the feeble figure of Armando Dippet. Harry wondered if he'd ever get used to it.
Just then, all eyes shifted to the Entrance Doors. Well, all of the staff's eyes anyways. Harry's head followed, knowing that there could only be one reason why the staff had stopped chatting and turned their complete attention to the doors. The first years had arrived.
Dumbledore led the terrified looking eleven year olds in, his blue eyes twinkling bemusedly. Harry had to wonder what horror stories Dumbledore had been encouraging among them. Dumbledore would never outright do mischief, but he was very good at suddenly becoming quite fascinated in the surrounding plants when mischief was being done.
Dumbledore reached into his pockets, throwing what seemed to be a piece of flint onto the centre of the room. Then, he raised his wand, and murmured something under his breath. Quite suddenly, the piece of flint started to morph, until it grew into a tweedy looking stool.
The first years gasped as one, and Harry found himself gasping with them. What Dumbledore had done was no easy piece of magic, and though Harry intellectually knew what Dumbledore was capable of, seeing it a whole other matter.
"Show-off," A Slytherin next to him muttered, but there was no resentment in his voice.
Then, the sorting commenced.
There was no one of notable interest to Harry, but whenever someone was sorted into Slytherin he clapped among the rest of them just so that he wouldn't stand out. Finally, the sorting was over, and Dippet was standing to make an announcement.
"My dear students," Dippet said with a somewhat strained smile, "Welcome to another year at Hogwarts. Now, just before we start the feast, there are some announcements I'd like to make.
"First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. If you experience any trouble, please defer to a teacher or a prefect. Older students should help out too. I have also been asked by Mr. Dixon, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.
"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Knight. And finally, we are blessed with a new student in our midst, the first transfer student that Hogwarts has had in over a hundred years…"
There was an instant murmuring among the students, surreptitious glances and exaggerated guesses of what Dippet could possibly mean.
"Students! STUDENTS!" Dippet yelled, causing the murmuring to die down as the population of Hogwarts realized that Dippet would be the one who would give them answers. When the children finally quieted, Dippet cleared his throat, looking quite displeased. Harry couldn't help but think of how well Dumbledore had managed to handle them all.
"As I was saying," Dippet said stiffly, "We have a transfer student from St. Clarence Academy of Magic. His name is Harry Evans, and he is in fifth year. He has already been sorted. Please, make him feel welcome and show exactly how hospitable a school Hogwarts really is. Thank you, now you may eat."
As Dippet sat, food appeared out of nowhere, filling the five long tables, but no one was really paying attention to the food. Everyone was too busy speculating. Whispers were filling the hall, spreading like wildfire. Why was there suddenly a transfer student if Hogwarts had not had one for 100 years? Who could it be? Was it a prodigy that Hogwarts had finally gotten its hands on? A war refugee? The secret love child of one of the professors?
At the Slytherin table though, most seemed to have guessed at least who it was, if the wary glances cast in Harry's direction were any indication. Harry wanted to call them to just ask already, but he had a feeling that an act of bravery wouldn't exactly endear him to his Housemates like it might in Gryffindor.
So instead, Harry just went about calmly eating his food, making sure to use the table manners Hermione had drilled into him. Finally, one of the students cracked.
"So are you?" A blond boy sitting next to him asked, his voice coming out a low grumble, "Are you the new transfer student?"
Another boy –this one with silver hair- rolled his eyes, "Way to go Avery, could you get any more blunt? What are we, Gryffindors? Besides, isn't your father the records keeper, so shouldn't you of all people know?"
Harry felt a shiver race up his spine, barely suppressed. The future Avery had been one of the Death Eaters revealed at the Department of Mysteries. Yet, Harry could do nothing about it.
"Now, now," A smooth, silkily voice interrupted, causing Harry to draw a sharp breath, "Don't be so critical, Yaxley. Avery was only asking what we all wanted to know."
If Harry got shivers before, he was practically breaking out in goosebumps now. Wide-eyed, Harry turned towards the source of the voice, and found the owner to be just sitting across from him, three seats away.
Tom Riddle was watching them with a smirk on his lips, though the look in his eyes made it seem more as if he were watching amusing animals rather than human beings.
Harry was surprised by the utter lack of anger and hate at the sight of him. Tom Riddle was not yet Voldemort, but he had committed horrible deeds even in this form. He could never be forgiven for what he did to Ginny.
Harry frowned thoughtfully, wondering if it was possible that the apprehensive question his Dumbledore asked at the beginning of their last session held merit. Dumbledore had warned Harry not to feel sympathy for the young Voldemort, and Harry had replied that he didn't, but that hadn't been quite true, had it? No, he did not hate Tom Riddle—he just wanted to stop him.
Then, as if he could feel Harry's gaze, Riddle's eyes suddenly flashed towards his. Harry quickly blanked his face. But, he wasn't sure if he blanked quickly enough. Had Riddle seen his uncertainty, the fear, the refusal to be fooled? Harry couldn't tell from just looking at the other boy.
Yaxley also turned towards the future dark lord, and quickly bowed his head. His earlier sarcastic tone was gone, replaced by a sort of reverence and compliance, "Of course. I was out of line. Avery, I apologize."
But Yaxley had not once looked at Avery during this 'apology'. Harry held back from a shudder. Already, Tom Riddle had a following.
"So," A smooth voice cut in, and Harry turned just in time to see a dark haired boy sliding to a seat next to him. It was odd, because Harry could have sworn that seat was already taken. And then he realized he was right, the seat was taken; the dark haired boy had simply forced the previous occupant to move.
"So," The dark haired wizard continued, a sly smile on his lips and blue eyes glittering with amusement, "You gonna answer what we all want to know?"
Harry hesitated, ever so slightly, "And what would that be?"
"What made you change schools," A brown haired boy sitting not too far from him said crisply, "Or more acutely, why Hogwarts accepted you."
It was a good thing Harry had already prepared these answers in advance. "Well, I've always wanted to come to Hogwarts; it is the most prestigious school in Britain after all. However, my family… did not have enough finances to pay Hogwarts' high tuition fee. Recently though, my mother earned enough to send me here, so we decided to change schools. I'm not too sure myself why the Headmaster allowed it, although I'm thankful to him for it. I didn't know that Hogwarts hadn't accepted a transfer in over a hundred years. My mum just came in with me to see Headmaster Dippet and they talked. Headmaster Dippet is a very sympathetic man; he was especially kind to mother when he found out my father passed away recently. Perhaps that is why? Headmaster Dippet can sympathize with our situation?"
There were varying looks of shock present on nearly all the faces surrounding him. They clearly hadn't expected that as an explanation.
Actually, at Harry's easy answer, many Slytherins turned away with slight looks of disgust, seeming to lose their interest. Whether it was because they thought Harry was a stupid idiot for not recognizing the fact that Dippet did not have pure intentions towards his mum, or whether it was because they had found out he was essentially a pauper who had cheated the system, most of his housemates had just essentially decided to treat Harry like any other member of Hogwarts. He was not a transfer through any special skill or mystery anymore, and therefore not worth paying attention to.
Harry barely hid a smile. Over the years he had learned how to give uninteresting responses to stave off reporters.
And then, he noticed it.
Riddle was looking at him with darkly amused eyes, the glint within them telling Harry that Riddle somehow knew that what Harry had just sprouted was a bunch of BS. Somehow, somehow Riddle had seen through Harry's detailed explanation and understood its core- that its purpose was to throw people off, to make people underestimate him. Riddle was not fooled.
Harry felt his smile threaten to slip off, but he forced it not to. He couldn't act intimidated by Riddle. Besides, it wasn't surprising for Riddle to see through it by any means. This was the future dark lord he was talking about, and Harry wasn't that brilliant of an actor. Hopefully, though Riddle could see through the cock-and-bull story about transferring from St. Clarence, when Germany was discovered Riddle would look no further. After all, who really expected a third hidden life? As far as Harry was concerned, he was safe.
So, Harry returned Riddle's gaze. But before he could do so much as give a nod of acknowledgement, Riddle had turned his head away and started a conversation with the blond seated next to him.
Harry couldn't help it. His mouth dropped open. Hurriedly he clamped it shut again, but that didn't stop his rising indignation. He tore his eyes away from Riddle, but he couldn't tear away his thoughts.
Why had Riddle established contact only to pull away when Harry offered it? Was it just to show Harry that there was at least one person who had seen through Harry's intentions? But, why not acknowledge that then? Why not at least let Harry nod to show that he understood?
Harry felt strangely cheated.
He stabbed his fork into the pumpkin pie, feeling his mood sour. Sure, Harry didn't like attention, but to be so clearly caught at doing something and then tossed aside as if he weren't interesting enough—
And then he caught himself.
Slowly, ever so slowly, Riddle's intention was becoming clear, and with the sudden clarity came a dawning sense of horror. If Harry Potter weren't Harry Potter, he doubted he could have caught on until it was too late.
He was… he was already getting caught in Riddle's spell. Not even a day into Hogwarts, and Tom Riddle had already managed to imprint himself into the transfer student's mind. And he had done it in such a way that no one could disrespect him, that no one could accuse him of currying favour. Riddle had not abandoned his former friends in able to draw the transfer student to him, and draw the transfer student's attention he did.
Harry was shaken. He remembered how cruel and vicious Lord Voldemort was. He had forgotten how mesmerizing and perceptive Tom Riddle could be.
