Loop Iteration 2
Harry staggered back, his mind reeling. He felt his back hit the wall, and he used the support to gain back control.
Despite it only having been a blink of an eye, Harry felt oddly refreshed. It didn't make sense; his reserves had been still dangerously low, but now they were as high as it had ever been. Almost as if he had gotten that night long sleep.
He frowned, wondering if the potion had worked its magic after all. But he had still felt uncomfortably groggy when Tom had been interrogating him.
Still, that wasn't what to focus on.
Right now, he was in front of the door to Dumbledore's office. And he had to somehow find his way back to where he had last been, in an attempt to help Dumbledore.
He refused to think that Dumbledore had already died; that gasp of pain boded nothing good.
He was turning the other way when he heard Dumbledore's voice.
He stilled immediately, and his thoughts flew rapidly. How did Dumbledore get back up here so quickly? Maybe he had a portkey keyed to his office and was able to escape.
He knew he was missing something. If Dumbledore escaped to his office, the runes that surrounded him and transported here wouldn't have done the same. But he was too relieved that Dumbledore was still alive, so he went to push the door open, eager to see the man healthy and whole.
And fell into shock, because he would recognize that voice anywhere.
It was muffled, and he really only heard Tom's voice in two instances now, but both of those instances had filled him with such terror, he didn't think he would ever be able to forget those snarky tones.
He let his hand fall immediately.
He needed to get away from here. He needed to warn Dumbledore, but he didn't want to alert Tom to his presence. Tom had acted because he knew Harry was from the future. He had killed Dumbledore because he had felt threatened.
He had to find a place to hide. He wondered if he would be able to find his way back to the small room, but dismissed it immediately. It had valuable potions stored inside; the room would be protected and he wouldn't be able to break the wards.
Then he blinked, looking at his arm that was still outstretched as if it was going to knock on the door.
That wasn't his old robe. It was - he was wearing a Hogwarts robe. Dumbledore must have exchanged it with his old robes when he was sleeping, either to ensure he would be able to blend in if he left the room or to examine his old robes for any clues.
He scowled, but knew it was a futile thought. It wasn't as if he could ask that Dumbledore any questions. The Dumbledore of now wouldn't know the answers.
He must had still been half asleep when he had been getting dressed. There was no way otherwise he wouldn't have noticed the difference between the robes.
It still brought a sense of nostalgia though. He hadn't worn a Hogwarts robe since he was a fourth year...
The year where the Wizards had to go on a run from the Muggles.
He frowned, refusing to let himself go down such a dangerous track. He wasn't in safe territory right now; he had to hide briefly until Tom left Dumbledore's office.
Luckily, Dumbledore's office was on the first floor and was the same as Professor McGonagall's during his time. The statue of the wizard wouldn't be far.
He found it within a few minutes, ducking behind the statue and using magic to uncover the secret entrance.
It was exactly as he remembered it. His father had shown it to him all those years ago. It was a large room, but only had a bookcase to furnish it.
He cast a Tempus charm first, the bright glow of it making him smile. It even lit up the small room.
He didn't think the two of them would talk for very long. It was already nearing nine, and Hogwarts classes started around then. Dumbledore most likely didn't have a first period of students then, or else he wouldn't have risked meeting so early.
He still had a half hour to wait before he headed over.
It wasn't enough time to do much, but at least Harry could use the hour to meditate.
He had been taught by Remus, his godfather and close friend of his father's. It helped calm him, and after everything that happened, and his magic reserves being depleted dangerously low, it would give him enough time to make sure nothing was permanently damaged.
It also made his magic presence almost nondetectable and that was what Harry wanted. He wanted Tom to leave the grounds before he approached Dumbledore.
He had worried that the two wizards would had sensed him hovering outside Dumbledore's door, but he realized later that the surrounding magic of Hogwarts would keep him well hidden.
He was lucky. He didn't want to face Tom so soon after knowing he killed Dumbledore.
Just thinking about it was making his anxiety skyrocket again.
He took a deep breath and cleared his mind.
He had nothing to fear. He sat himself down in front of Dumbledore, tilting his head up and looking the Professor straight in the eye.
"Read my mind if you don't believe me," he said. "You dosed me with Veritaserum last time. This will be faster."
"My boy," said Dumbledore, obviously unsure of using such illegal and invasive magic on a student and Harry shook his head.
"I'm not a student."
"You're young enough to enroll here," said Dumbledore, but he sighed. "Give me the memory you want me to see."
He hesitated. He knew letting Dumbledore know everything meant that he would learn he had a hatred of Squibs. That had been what set Dumbledore off against him the first time. But he couldn't be picky. Dumbledore needed to trust him to stay safe from Tom later that night or else Tom would kill him once again and the time loop would reset once again.
He really didn't want to relive this day over again. Avoiding Tom by staying in the secret room was not what he wanted to do. He wondered briefly why Tom was visiting Dumbledore in the first place, but knew he would have to wait to ask about it. Getting Dumbledore to safety was the priority.
So he pressed the tip of his wand to his forehead, flinching slightly as he drew the memory out. He kept it to the tip of his wand until it was hovering over Dumbledore's pensive, and let it fall in.
When Dumbledore emerged from the memory, his face was grave. "You speak the truth," he said, "the memory is untampered with."
He shrugged, not taking offense since he knew Dumbledore wouldn't have believed him without tangible evidence. He would had done the same in the Professor's shoes.
Dumbledore sighed, his shoulders slumping. "I wanted to believe better of Tom."
"You have to stay safe," said Harry. "Without you, the Wizarding World will fall to ruin."
He didn't wait to see if Dumbledore agreed, instead taking more memories out of his head and dropping it into the Pensieve.
Dumbledore didn't complain, but his frown deepened. Although he was younger than any of the pictures he had seen, Harry could now see the effects of his age on Dumbledore, in the way the burden weighed heavily on the wizard.
Dumbledore was seeing the destruction of the Muggles firsthand. It wasn't one of Harry's worst nightmares, but the way the Muggles had leveled Hogwarts was still a sight he would never forget. Repeated bombings of the wards erected around Hogwarts had brought them down, and missiles had done the rest. There had been nothing left in the morning. Luckily, the students and teachers had been able to get out in time, but Hogwarts had not survived. None of the artifacts. None of the history.
It was a brutal, decisive loss.
Dumbledore's face was even paler when he came out. "The Muggles?"
His voice was grave.
"You know I'm not lying," he said, but Dumbledore's eyes were hard.
"I had my suspicions," said Dumbledore. "You're young so I believed better."
"What?"
"You manipulated this last memory," he said.
"I - no!" In horror, he realized what had went wrong. It hadn't been his memory he had shown Dumbledore. The spell had been created in the future. It allowed memories to be viewed in a bird-eyes' view, created literally from the memory of an owl. When Hogwarts had been destroyed, no one had been there to see it. Wizards and witches alike had apparated far away; it had been too dangerous to stay near the destruction.
The owls were the only ones to see that day.
But Dumbledore would only see the effects of a spell he had never seen before. The Professor didn't believe he was from the future, and creation of spells were things that rarely happened anymore. That someone would spend so much time on creating a spell used solely for memories was probably inconceivable to him.
And...
He had suspected before. But Albus Dumbledore sympathized with the Muggles. How could his parents not have known?
"I don't know how you were able to manipulate the first memory to seem real, but the last one was anything but. Please get out of my office."
"You're in danger," he tried, but he could see Dumbledore had already made up his mind not to believe him. He stood, numb, still shocked that Dumbledore didn't believe him. The evidence was right in front of the wizard, and he refused to see it.
He wondered if Dumbledore faced this opposition often; even back in his time, the Muggles were only tolerated, not liked. Perhaps it had been even worse in the past…Grindelwald had manipulated the Muggles during his reign of terror.
Dumbledore probably believed he was a teenager, sent to cause up trouble for no reason. Only the thought of being confined to the small room with potions made him hesitate to try again, and he left without another word, seething at Dumbledore's ignorance.
He didn't bother trying to follow Dumbledore around. It was too dangerous; the older wizard was far too perceptive to fall for that. He was already on Dumbledore's radar; the smartest thing to do was to leave Hogwarts before Dumbledore got suspicious enough to question him.
It wasn't a difficult choice to decide to spend the rest of the day in Hogsmeade. It was a comfort that he had taken advantage of many times in the past, especially when the threat of the Muggles had become more pressing. His parents had worried and their fear had only passed on to him; it was easy to sneak out of planning to hang out with friends.
He spent the rest of the day holed up in the library in Hogsmeade, in hopes of finding something to explain the loop he was stuck in. But the books of time-travel were ones he read before, and he knew he would have to find the spell's book in this timeline to truly understand the mess he was in.
When it got too depressing and his stomach reminded him of his hunger, he headed out to the Leaky Cauldron. The galleons in his pocket jingled as he walked; they were a souvenir from the future.
He was drunk. Even years in the past, the pub was still a lively place. And Harry had enough money to buy a few drinks to soften the pain.
He was watching the clock when it happened. The old clock in the bar had chimed loudly, the hour hand at the intricately carved 8 and the minute at the 12.
The runes surrounded him once again. The patrons of the pub were frozen still, not moving as the clock continued to chime. It seemed to echo even past the customary eight beats, and when the blinding light came, Harry's eyes were already closed.
Loop Iteration 3
He wasn't drunk.
He felt chipper. Right as rain as he stared forlornly at Dumbledore's door.
He wished he was still drunk.
He wondered if he could just walk out of Hogwarts. No one had stopped him the last loop.
Dumbledore had still died. Even with his warnings that Tom had been planning to kill him.
He could show Dumbledore his memories again. Show him a different memory. One that was actually his own memory and not one from an owl.
But that would mean he would have to relive those memories. The ones better left forgotten.
And besides, there was a reason Dumbledore was so quick to disregard him. He was in a different time, and he didn't know much about the state of Wizarding Society in 1946. Perhaps Dumbledore had a reason to be kind to the Muggles despite most of Wizarding Society only tolerating them.
In any case, Harry didn't want to go to Dumbledore again. He was still bitter about the last time, when the Professor refused to believe him even with the evidence he had. And besides, he doubted the Professor had done much even after kicking Harry out of his office. Of course, the Professor had to go teach his lessons, and while Harry was curious behind Dumbledore's teaching methods, he knew he didn't have time to idle around. He didn't know how Tom came back to Hogwarts the first time, but perhaps it was time to follow the other wizard.
Tom left a little earlier than he had expected him to. Last time, he had expected Tom to leave around 9:30. But the wizard had left only ten minutes after Harry arrived.
Harry had played it a little risky, using a disillusionment charm and standing behind the corner instead of heading back to the secret room.
But it had worked out, because Tom hadn't even glanced over at him. He had emerged from Dumbledore's office with a slight frown, and had briskly walked down the hallway, heading straight for the exit of Hogwarts.
He had suspected, of course that Tom wouldn't stay in Hogwarts. He wasn't wearing a student's robes, and he was far too young to be a Professor. But it still confused him, because he could think of no conceivable reason why Dumbledore would invite him into Hogwarts for a meeting.
He didn't let the confusion slow him down, however, and followed as closely as he could without alerting Tom.
He needn't have worried. Tom didn't even look back as he made his way to the floo destination. Harry wasn't too bothered; Hogwarts only had a few floo destinations connected. And plus, the user would speak his words out loud. For some reason, he had expected Tom to believe Flooing was beneath him, but the other alternative was to make the long trek to the outskirts of Hogwarts.
"Knockturn Alley," the wizard spoke, clearly enunciating his words, and Harry stared because he swore Tom had looked directly at him when he did, a little smirk playing on his lips.
He wondered if he should risk following. The chances that Tom had noticed him now were pretty high.
But he had relived this day twice already. He didn't really have it in him to play cautious anymore.
When he emerged from the fire, soot tickling his lungs, there was no one there.
He had expected Tom to wait. He had no clue where the other wizard could have gone, and had no idea on how Tom had left the flooing destination so fast. He would had only been less than a minute behind Tom.
With a frown, he turned the corner and then had to swallow a gasp.
Tom was standing there, his expression unreadable.
"It's you, then?" asked Tom. He took a step forward, getting uncomfortably close, and Harry was forced to take a step back.
Harry didn't have it in him to play dumb.
He shrugged instead, and Tom's eyes narrowed, a displeased frown marring his otherwise perfect face.
He stepped back and reached out, and Harry had to stop from shivering as those hands smoothed out his robes. "Hogwarts student, and you can't be anything other than a seventh year." An elegant brow arched. "Yet I've never seen you before."
There was a silence, and then Tom laughed. He actually sounded like he meant it, and Harry stared at the way the sunlight danced off his locks as he threw his head back. He was uncomfortably unattractive. Even though Tom had been nothing but rude to him, there was no changing that the man was charismatic. Harry couldn't help watching him in fascination, at the way his eyes crinkled and the way his lips looked as they smiled.
"Walk with me to work," commanded Tom in the next moment, and Harry was going to refuse, but Tom was turning away and walking already. If Harry didn't want to shout after him, he would have to follow.
Tom smirked at him as Harry had to hurry to catch up, and Harry noticed that he was slightly shorter than Tom. He didn't think Tom could be much older than him.
"Where do you work?" he asked, eventually, as Tom continued to lead them down alleyways with twists and turns. He wasn't walking very fast, even as it was nearing ten. Harry wondered if Tom actually had a boss, and if his boss actually had any authority over Tom. Somehow, he doubted it.
Tom chuckled, "Merlin, you know absolutely nothing."
Tom was obviously in a good mood if he was humoring Harry like this. Tom stopped, gesturing upward. The store they were at was grand, especially for something like Knockturn Alley. Harry had never heard of it in his lifetime; it must've gone out of business before he had been born. Regardless, in 1946, the store looked to be well-maintained, despite the old wooden sign that read 'Borgin and Burkes'.
The inside wasn't as nice as the outside, but it was still passable. There seemed to be dust in the air when he squinted, and there was barely any light in the store despite the sunlight streaming in. Harry couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching him, and he nervously looked around, catching the culprit. It was a vase full of eyeballs, and he shivered, pointedly looking away.
Tom waved a hand, and the fireplace came to a roaring crackle, making Harry jump slightly. That made Tom smirk again, and Harry wondered why this Tom seemed to be endlessly amused with him rather than hostile. Though it was most likely because Tom didn't deem him a threat, not like he had the last time he had met him.
"So," said Tom, as he went about getting the store ready for the day. And that was boggling in itself, Harry never would've imagined Tom to be a simple store clerk. Not with what he had done, threatening Harry and asking about the next Dark Lord with an intensity that couldn't be matched. "Name?"
His hesitation must've shown on his face, because Tom waved his hand flippantly. "You don't have to give me your last name if you're so nervous."
"Harry," he said, and Tom smiled.
"Tom Riddle," said Tom, holding his hand out. Harry shook it and Tom didn't let go. His grip was tight.
"Dumbledore sent you then?"
Some of his shock must have shown in his face, because Tom's smile was wry. His grip got tighter. "You're not a Hogwarts student. And Dumbledore didn't send you. Quite a mystery, aren't you, Harry?"
He let go of his hand, and took a step back, sending an inquisitive look at Harry. They were interrupted by another wizard entering the store.
Harry's heart was beating fast, but he had no way to easily make an exit. Tom was between him and the exit and he knew Tom would do something to stop him if he tried.
No, not Tom.
Riddle.
At least this venture, no matter how doomed it seemed, gave him Tom's last name. Now he could call him appropriately, because it had felt wrong to him to be using Riddle's first name. They weren't friends. How could they be when Harry knew Riddle was planning to kill Dumbledore that night?
Harry had to find a way to stall Riddle and make him change his mind on killing Dumbledore tonight. Perhaps that would be enough to break the time loop and he could work on changing Dumbledore's point of view on Muggles.
"Any plans tonight?" asked Riddle when the customer had left. Harry had been lost in thought as Riddle was conversing, and realized he had no clue how Riddle had charmed the man into leaving the priceless artifact here without any gold being exchanged at all.
But he knew firsthand Riddle was persuasive when he wanted to be.
"Er," he said, because he wanted to stall but the way Riddle had asked that simple question was making him nervous.
"Dinner at eight," said Riddle. He turned to smile at Harry, his fingers tapping seemingly nervously on the table. Harry stared at the nervous tick, and then his eyes lifted to Riddle's face. There was no emotion in there.
He wasn't smiling anymore. His eyes were intense, boring into him, and Harry couldn't look away.
There was another wizard at the door.
Harry was glad for the distraction, knowing that Riddle would be forced to help the customer.
"Something tells me you're not from around here," said Riddle, pointedly ignoring the wizard.
Harry blinked, and then Riddle gave another slight laugh, and his fingers were still once again on the glass table.
"He'll show you around," said Riddle. The wizard didn't make any indication he heard.
"That's fine," he tried, futilely, and Riddle shook his head.
"It won't be a bother, Harry. Goyle doesn't have any plans either today."
Harry stared in horror at Goyle, who was a hunkering mass of a wizard. He towered over Harry, and when he reached out to grab Harry's arm, it was clear that Tom's request was anything but.
"Come," said Goyle, gruffly, and Harry nearly tripped as Goyle nearly hauled him toward the entrance of the store.
"Oh, and Harry?"
Goyle stopped, forcing Harry to fling out a hand to catch himself on the doorway.
"Do try to enjoy yourself. It'll be your last day here, after all."
Tom's laughter followed them out.
He had to get a hold of himself. This was hardly the first time Riddle had threatened him.
But Riddle had succeeded in killing Dumbledore twice. Once even with Harry's warning that Riddle was coming.
He had killed the strongest wizard of this time, a wizard that had just killed a Dark Lord if his memory was correct.
And he had been an idiot. He had tried to follow Riddle, and had even been given a clue that Riddle had noticed, and had done so anyway.
He cursed his lack of foresight.
But.
Riddle had left him with Goyle. Goyle may be strong and had a tight grip on him, but Harry still had his wand. And if this Goyle was anything like the Goyles he knew, he had a pretty good chance on escaping as long as he used magic.
Most wizards couldn't access their wands easily when they were held so threateningly. But Harry didn't need his wand to use magic.
He didn't want to hurt Goyle, so he focused his magic on a Stinging Hex. Just a simple one to get Goyle to release his grip. He took a deep breath, and then released it, speaking the incantation out loud. Goyle stiffened in anticipation, and then he howled in pain, letting go of Harry immediately.
Harry grinned, and twisted, getting away from Goyle and pelting away. His speed should easily outmatch Goyle's.
Riddle really shouldn't have underestimated him.
He was snickering to himself even as he twisted and dodged patrons, so he didn't notice when he ran straight into a shield charm. The breath was thrown out of him as he bounced back, and he hissed in pain. He didn't fall though, a petrifying charm held him upright.
"Honestly," said Abraxus Malfoy. Harry would recognize a Malfoy any day, especially after his disastrous rivalry with Draco Malfoy during his school years. He should had known a slimy Slytherin like a Malfoy would be involved.
"Let me go," he tried, and Malfoy arched an eyebrow at him.
"Do you think you're in any position to make demands?" asked Malfoy.
He opened his mouth to respond, but Malfoy was already flicking his wand.
"Stupefy."
When he came to, he was sitting across from Riddle.
It took him a while to get the grogginess out of his mind. It felt like he was swimming out of water, and the noisiness of the restaurant around them and the bright lights weren't helping.
The last thing he remembered was getting caught by Malfoy. He must had been sent by Riddle then.
Goyle was a test. He had thought Riddle underestimated him. When really, it was the other way around.
He grimaced at that, and Riddle looked up from the menu, a smile from earlier on his face. "Drink some water," he offered, "it'll help with the headache."
He blinked at Riddle, even as anger started to build. The nerve of this wizard.
"You're the reason I have one," he said, and Riddle smiled.
"You have quite impressive Occlumency barriers, Harry. Even with my repertoire I wasn't able to break through them. You must have a lot of secrets."
"Doesn't everyone?" he couldn't help sniping back, and Riddle chuckled.
"You more than most, I suspect."
"That's why I'm here then," said Harry. "Or else you wouldn't have went through with this farce."
Riddle's eyebrows furrowed together. "A farce? Harry, this is - "
Harry wasn't looking at Riddle's face, too angry to maintain calm if he did. He was staring directly at the grandfather clock of the restaurant, hoping the methodical moving of the minute hand would calm him. That was the only reason why he noticed the time.
It just clicked into 7:58 when Riddle let out a hiss, and the wine glass spilled onto the white tablecloth, the red liquid staining it. He staggered to his feet, his eyes wide and unseeing as pain wracked the wizard's body.
"How - " choked out Riddle, and then as Harry watched in horror, Riddle focused on him. Riddle's eyes were full of unbridled anger, and his voice was hoarse. "I should've known better than to trust a pretty boy like you."
Not only was the situation leaving him reeling, the fact that Riddle had called him pretty was ...
He yelped as Riddle lunged at him, obviously intent on getting him back for the pain he thought Harry caused, and Harry was raising his hands to defend himself when he heard it.
The chiming of the clock.
Then a loud bang obscured one of the chimes. The last six chimed into a deadly silence.
He didn't know where the attack came from. His eyes had been on Riddle the whole time, and he hadn't even registered anyone getting close enough to hurl a spell at them.
It hit Riddle straight on. It blasted through any shields the wizard had.
When Riddle fell on him, he was dead.
His eyes were still open. They were a dark brown. Lifeless.
Harry gagged at the sight, revulsion and horror filling him as he stared down at Riddle.
Runes surrounded Harry. This time, even as the lights threatened to blind him, Harry couldn't close his eyes. He couldn't tear them away from Riddle's lifeless ones.
When the lights faded, he was at Dumbledore's door once again.
It had never been Albus Dumbledore in danger.
It had always been Tom Riddle.
A/N::P i wonder how many of you guys realized it was tom dying not dumbledore! anyway, i have a huge test coming up april, and this is the last of what I have stored up, I'll be working on this after april 13th - right after I finish my white's day fic I'll be on hiatus...unless...I'm a bad engineer and decide to write instead of study, but it's been known to happen. anyone, please leave a review on what you think! :) thank you as always!
