Author: Silverhair Theory
Rating: M
Disclaimer: I nothing. JKRowling owns everything. If you prosecute me all you're likely to get is my sweet stash and my teddy bear, so I wouldn't advise it.
THE GIFT OF A SECOND CHANCE
Chapter 2: New Aquaintances and Old... Enemies?
Harry dreamed. He dreamed he was in the forest, and the trees were thick above him, rustling and murmuring like they were talking to each other. Harry was walking in between them, and roots and branches kept reaching out to trip him over. He skipped over them, and the trees seemed to press in closer, until he was fighting his way though a small green tunnel, made of leaves, which turned autumn brown, then rotted into black and fell apart, and he was standing in a clearing, with the moon shining down onto the person in front of him, and it was Voldemort.
The older Voldemort, complete with perfect white skin, no hair, snakelike appearance, flashing red eyes, and the familiar wand in his hands. But this Voldemort was not wearing the customary black robes that he wore in every other dream Harry had ever had of the man, and instead wore a Slytherin Hogwarts robe. He was smiling at Harry. Not smirking, smiling, and Harry felt bewildered as the man stepped forward and reached out a hand.
He didn't move, felt he couldn't move, as the icy cold fingers touched him lightly on the forehead, on his scar. It didn't hurt like it had before, in the graveyard where Cedric died, and Harry vaguely wondered why. Instead the touch was more like a caress, and all the long fingers stroked the scar Harry felt little tingles, like tiny bolts of electricity, running down his spine.
He closed his eyes, and Voldemort laughed softly, not like Harry remembered it from his own time, but more how he imagined Tom would laugh, if he ever did. He opened his eyes and was shocked to see that Voldemort had changed. The fingers that were stroking his scar were the same, still long, cold and pale, but the face had changed, and now Harry was looking into Tom's face, exactly the way he was in the time Harry was in now, seventeen and full of youth.
Tom took him fingers away from Harry's forehead, and for a few seconds Harry would have done anything to have them back, have the fingers stroke his scar again. Tom seemed to read his mind and laughed, again that soft, quiet chuckle.
"No, Harry. It's almost time for you to go back. You need to be sorted into Slytherin." Tom said it without a trace of a doubt, as if it was obvious that Harry would be in Slytherin.
"Won't I be in Gryffindor?" Harry asked him, and Tom just laughed again.
"You? A Gryffindork? Hah, you could pass yourself off as a Gryff, but you're a slinky serpentine Slytherin inside. Like me." Tom smiled at Harry, and the part of Harry that knew this was a dream asked himself how he could be imagining Tom smiling, when he hadn't seen it done it in real life.
"I don't want to go back. It's nice here. Peaceful." Harry said, and Tom laughed again, thoguh this time there was a slight bitterness to the voice.
"You can't stay here, Harry." Tom stepped closer to Harry, and Harry could feel the other boy's breath on his face, warm against the cold night. He shivered, and Tom laughed again, and stepped even closer. Now they weren't more than an inch apart, and Harry had a sudden revelation that if he were to move just slightly, he would be kissing Tom.
Tom smiled again, and brought his hand up to cup Harry's face. For one crazy second, Harry thought Tom might actually kiss him, and his heartbeat rocketed. "You can't stay here, Harry." Tom repeated, lifting his hand and brushing Harry's scar, sending more electric tingles down him spine.
"You have to kill me, remember?"
Tom dreamed. He dreamed he was in the forest, sitting in the branches of a big old tree. The leaves above him rustled and whispered, as if they were telling him secrets. He leaned into the trunk, but he couldn't understand what the trees were saying. Swinging his legs over the branch, he looked down. Standing on the ground, almost directly underneath him, was Hart Peake. The boy was carrying something wrapped in black silk, and he laid it down on the ground almost reverently before him.
Unwrapping the silk, Tom saw that it was a black box, made of some shiny metal that almost glowed in the moonlight. Hart Peake opened the box slightly, and out of the box came light, bright, blinding white light, so bright Tom had to shield his eyes. He saw through his fingers that Hart Peake dodn't seem in any way disturbed by the light, indeed he didn't even seem to notice it. The boy reached into the box and pulled out a handful of whatever it was that was shining so brightly. He held it tightly in his fist before closing the box, and Tom took his hand away from his eyes.
The other boy unclenched his fingers slightly, and peered at his hand. He then stood up, and looked straight at Tom. Tom almost fell off of the branch, he was so surprised, and was even more suprised when Hart Peake smiled at him. Smiled! Then he held his hand flat, and blew across it, like you might blow a kiss to a lover, and thousands of tiny particles of light flew up and surrounded Tom, flitting around and seeming to fill his vision.
He tilted, and fell off of the branch, down, down, down, until he landed in what felt like an embrace. He rubbed at his eyes, and the white stuff cleared, enough to let him see that he'd fallen right into Hart Peake's arms, and that the boy was smiling at him. He raised his eyes to the white particles still floating around, and found that they'd vanished. when he looked down, however, he saw that they had in fact moved, and were now clustered around where his heart was, under his robes, and all over his hands and head. They sank into the skin, feeling like drops of light rain, and Tom found the sensation pleasant. He looked again at Hart Peake, who put him down so that he was standing.
"I'm sorry for intruding..." He began to say, but Hart put a thin hand out and touched his lips once, just lightly, and Tom stopped talking. Hart smiled at him, and he smiled tentatively back, causing the smile of the other boy's face to widen.
"Don't worry." Hart said. "I was just going anyway." And with that he stopped down to pick up the box, then turned away, walking down a path Tom hadn't seen before.
"No, wait!" Tom said, but he said it a second too late, Hart was already gone, and Tom was alone in the forest, the big tree hanging over him, shielding him from the rain that gently started to fall.
Tom woke with a start. He lay still for a second, the dream still vivid in his mind. It had been one of his special dreams, he was sure, the ones which meant something. But what had it meant? Why had the new boy, Hart Peake, been in it, and what was the deal with those little light particles? Why, when he had fallen, had he fallen into the other boy's arms, and why had the boy been smiling at him, his eyes shining with something Tom had never seen before. It was close to what he saw in the eyes of his 'friends' sometimes, but stronger. And he was sure that the real Hart Peake hadn't ever looked at him like that.
Yawning, he pushed open his drapes slightly and saw that the early morning glow was lighting the room. He estimated it was about eight o'clock. Jerry, Vlad and Rupert were still snoring from thier beds, and he could hear the shower running in their bathroom, which meant that Azul was probably washing his hair, as usual. He wondered if Hart had got up yet, and remembered that the boy would have gone to be sorted that morning.
Tom had an instinctive feeling that Hart would be in Slytherin. He could tell, usually just by looking at someone, although sometimes he needed to tak to them, which house they belonged in. He had met some mistakes though, and he couldn't understand why several of the Gryffindors weren't in Ravenclaw. There were a couple of Gryffindors and a Ravenclaw who should have been in Slytherin as well.
In school jargon, each house had their own shortened name. They had been there since before Tom had joined the school, possibly they even came from the founder's time, and they just seemed to stick so well. Hufflepuffs nearly all looked like their nickname, the 'Puffs, fitted them so well, and on more than one occasion he had found a 'Claw's talons unsheathed. The Gryffs suited their nickname implicitly, and it was only the Slytherin nickname that he found distasteful. No-one in Slytherin liked the nickname that they had aquired from the rest of the school, and it was an insult if you called a fellow housemate a Snake.
However much he disliked the name, Tom had to admit it fitted well. Mostly. No-one could exactly say that Jerry Goyle was anything like a snake, and the first years got less cunning every year. However, there were several individuals who had a definite snake tendancy to them, himself included. Rupert Nott was frighteningly snake-like on occasions, and Azul Malfoy had quite a few mannerisms which reminded Tom disturbingly of snakes. And it was the house symbol as well.
At that moment Azul came out of the bathroom, with his long platinum blonde hair still dripping down his back, clad in nothing but a towel around his waist, and Tom looked away. If Azul had caught him looking, he would have made some jokingly perverted comment, and Tom didn't want to be on the recieving end. He was wary of relationships, even casual ones, because they led to knowledge and understanding of one another and he didn't want anyone to think they understood him, becasuse that was impossible.
Azul wasn't like that. He was bi, gorgeous, and knew it. More that once Tom had walked in on the other boy in a compromising situation, with persons of both sexes. Tom also knew that Azul had once had a crush on him, and although he had supposedly got over it, he always teased Tom about it. In fact, he teased everyone, and Tom was sure that it wasn't just because he was that kind of person. Really, the boy seemed to have had a crush on everyone except the teachers, and not even all of them had escaped his roving eye.
Tom had never really thought about fancying anyone, because of his attitude to relationships. He had once wondered whether his obsession with Salazar Slytherin was something in the way of a crush, but after carefully probing the subject with Azul, who would know, he had decided it was just an obsession.
He wondered which way Hart Peake swung. Then he wondered why he was thinking it.
"Hey Tom. I can see you're awake. You were checking me out, weren't you?" He heard Azul's comment through his thoughts, and mentally sighed. He hadn't escaped anyway.
"You wish. I was just thinking."
"About what?"
"There's a new kid joining Hogwarts today. In seventh year. He's being sorted this morning, and he's almost guaranteed to be in Slytherin. He's the one who got me put back in here for the night." Tom heard Azul moving around and the sounds of clothing being put on. He determinedly did not look.
"Really? Will he be at breakfast?"
"Probably."
"We should probably go down there now. We can go and check your rooms if you want, he might not know where the headmaster's office is."
Tom knew that Azul was just trying to get a way to see Hart before anyone else. He sighed, just knowing that Azul would crush on Hart. Then he thought about what Azul had said, and realised something else strange about Hart. The boy seemed to know his way around Hogwarts, even though he claimed to have never been here before. He walked through the corridors like he had done it for as long as Tom had, he knew the way to the Headmaster's office, and Tom guessed he knew his way to the great hall and probably to most of the classrooms as well.
"No, he knows where it is. We went there yesterday. But you're right, we should probably go down. Wake up the others while I get dressed, can you?" He swung his legs over the side of the bed, and went over to take his robes out of the wardrobe, deliberately ignoring Azul's unashamed gaze on him. He wasn't wearing a shirt, being the type of person who prefered to sleep in just shorts, and as he slipped on the robes he heard Azul's slight sigh as the other boy turned away to wake the others up.
Tom waited while the other boys got ready, rubbing sleep out of their eyes and slowly pulling their robes on. Then they all made their way down to the great hall. They were just sitting down and reaching for the food when Tom spied Hart coming in through the doors. He nudged Azul and pointed to where the boy was standing, looking dazedly around at the great hall, at all the people, then scanning his eyes across the teachers table. When he looked over at the Slytherins, Tom raised his hand in greeting and Hart slowly made his way over to them.
"Hello, what's this then? New student, eh? You're far too old to be in first year... there's something strange about you I don't like... ah well, now, lets see... Hmm, plenty of courage, not a bad mind either, and there's talent, oh yes, lots of talent... Something in you seems to be focused on being a Gryffindor...now isn't that interesting, it's almost like you'd already been sorted, and yet I've never seen you before...Even so, there's something there that's not quite Gryffindor...No, you're not a Gryffindor...Not at all...let's see...Let's go with...SLYTHERIN!"
The sorting hat's words still echoed in Harry's mind as he walked through the corridors, away from the Headmaster's office. Dumbledore had always said he was a Gryffindor. Always, he had always thought of himself as a Gryffindor, totally and utterly. But the sorting hat had placed him in Slytherin. It had said he definitely wasn't a Gryffindor. Not at all. And it had known that he had already been sorted! The same words echoing in his mind as they had before had unnerved him, and his mind was still spinning.
He entered the great hall and looked about. The tables were still in the same places, everything was exactly the same as he remembered it, except that all the people were different. He looked up at the teachers table and only saw three faces he recognised. Dumbledore, of course, and a very young-looking Flitwick and Sprout were all sitting there, eating calmly. Dumbledore seemed to sense him coming in and looked up, but looked away again when he caught Harry's eye.
Harry looked over to the Slytherin table and saw Tom raise a hand in greeting. He made his way over to the group near Tom, eyeing the people surrounding him. There was Tom, sitting in the centre of the group, eating and watching him walking over. Then there was a little inner circle of people, and Harry was startled to see that he recognised some of the people surrounding him. Well, not recognised, exactly, but he knew exactly which bloodline they came from and who they would sire in the future.
Sitting right next to Tom was a Malfoy, there was no doubt about that. The youth had Draco and Lucius' eyes, and the same platinum blonde hair, worn the same length as Lucius', but in a loose ponytail that might have looked feminine, but didn't. Next to the Malfoy was another blonde, and he was vaguely familiar as well, though Harry couldn't place the name. Sitting across from Malfoy were undoubtedly the ancestors of Crabbe and Goyle, and the boy and girl kept nudging each other and whispering in a way which Harry found disturbing to watch. Next to the female Goyle sat another couple of girls, and Harry recognised them as a Parkinson and a Black. With a jolt he realised that the Black girl was the very same woman who was in the portrait behind the curtain in Grimmauld Place, Sirius' mother, and Bellatrix's aunt. Opposite them, and on the other side of Tom, was another boy with long hair in a ponytail, but it was jet black, and Harry didn't recognise him at all.
As he approached he saw the Malfoy move the other blonde boy aside so that there was a space between Tom and him. Tom however, appeared to have different plans and moved into that place deliberately, indicating that Harry should sit between him and the boy with the long black hair. Harry sat down where Tom indicated, and felt a nervous rush as he realised he was so close to the boy that had been haunting his dreams last night. He had refused to think about the dream when he woke up, on the grounds that he needed to get to the sorting ceremony. He once again blocked the thoughts from his mind, and focused on eating.
Tom made sure that Hart couldn't sit next to Azul, who was giving him a hurt look, which he was ignoring, and let Hart sit down. He pondered on what he had seen as the boy was walking up to them. He had watched the eyes every carefully, as the boy had looked at all of his friends, and had been puzzled when Hart had seemed to recognise something about Azul, Jerry, Pearl Goyle, Vivian Parkinson and Patricia Black. It hadn't been complete recognition, like the thing he had seen in the boy's eyes when he had first cast eyes on Tom, but it was there.
"Good Morning, Hart. This is Azul Malfoy." He began to make the introductions, watching carefully to see the boy's reactions to the people he was being introduced to. When he said the name 'Malfoy' it was like Hart had nodded his head, as if he had known that Azul was a Malfoy without needing to be told. But that wasn't strange, the male Malfoys were known for thie distinctive platinum blonde hair and grey eyes.
Hart and Azul exchanged greetings, though Hart's greeting was almost false, as if he didn't want to get to close to Azul. Azul seemed disappointed by this reaction, and went back to his breakfast, almost sulkily.
"This is Rupert Nott." Something in Hart's eyes seemed to clear, as if he understood something, and he pointedly declined the hand offered him to shake.
"This is Jerry Crabbe." The little spark of recognition flared agin, the same as it had with Azul. He actually took the offered hand and shook it slightly.
"This is Pearl Goyle." The same spark, accompanied by a little half-smile as if he found something funny, but was wary of showing it. He shook Pearl's hand, and bowed his head in respect.
"This is Vivian Parkinson." Again the spark of recogntion, and the bow of the head when he shook the girl's hand, with an added flick of the eyes over towards Azul Malfoy. Tom was a little puzzled at that, it was the kind of look that wondered at a relationship, and how could Hart know that Azul and Vivian were almost unofficially half-dating?
"This is Patricia Black." The spark again, but this time followed by a flash of emotion, and Tom recognised the signs of a vivid memory being replayed. For a split-second, Hart's face was filled with sorrow, but then it was gone agin, and he was shaking the girl's hand, however without the bow of the head.
"This is Vladimir Tenshi." No spark of recognition, indeed puzzlement filled Hart's eyes as he shook the boy's hand.
When everybody had been introduced, Vivian, Patricia and Pearl all huddle into a little bundle and started to talk about something. Vlad went back to his food, pensieve and moody as ever, and Jerry and Rupert started talking about Quidditch. Azul was half joining in, but Tom couyld see that his eyes kept straying to Hart.
"So, you were in Slytherin, just like I said." Tom said quietly to Hart. Hart nodded slowly, and something fogged up his eyes as he puzzled something over in his head. "I'm not often wrong, you know. You could point out to me any student in this hall, minus a select few, and I could tell you which house they were in, just by what they looked like, the way the moved, talked."
"A select few?" Hart said, raising an eyebrow.
"Yeah. There's a couple of people who I think should be in different houses. Apparently the sorting hat doesn't always get it right."
"Like who?" Hart rasied his head, looking at the students critically as Tom was doing.
"See over on the Gryff's table, that girl sitting five seats left of the girl with the blonde pigtails? That girl should be in Ravenclaw. She's got a 'Claw mind, attitude, everything. And that boy near the other end of the table, sitting opposite the twin red-heads? He's got Slytherin blood, I can tell from here. He's actually not a bad guy, I sometimes associate with him when he's not around those infernal Weasleys."
"Weasleys?" The boy next to him said, his fork falling to his plate with a clatter as he looked intensely at the twin red-heads. He seemed surprised, almost enthusiastic about them.
"Yeah. A bunch of blood traitors, they are. There's tonnes of them as well, got a huge family, and Azul doesn't like them. There's a kind of running fight between the Mafloys and the Weasleys, goes back generations, apparently, and probably won't finish anytime soon."
"I know..." Hart said, vaguely, as if he wasn't quite thinking.
"You do?" Tom said, surprised. It wasn't very well known, the rift between the Weasleys and Malfoys.
"I...uh..." Hart stuttered, as if only just realising what he'd said. "I...uh...used to know a Weasley and a Malfoy, and they never got on at all." The sorrow that had flashed across his face when he'd seen Patricia Black appeared again, except this time it was stronger, and lasted for longer. Then, visibly taking him effort, Hart's face cleared, and he turned back to his breakfast, as if aware that he'd let something slip that he wasn't meant to.
They ate in silence for the rest of the meal, and as they were finishing Tom asked Hart what subjects he was taking. "Oh, you know, core subjects and then Divination."
"Same here! That means we'll be in the same classes. We have potions first. Our teacher's Professor Slughorn." Tom said, standing up.
Tom heard a slight choke and looked down to see Hart sputtering. He hit Hart on the back and the other boy coughed before taking a deep breath. "Sorry." He said, and Tom shook his head.
"No, it's okay. Do you know Slughorn?"
"...No." Hart said after a moment. "I've heard of him, is all."
"Ah, right. Lets get to class, shall we?" He got up and Hart followed him, all the way back to the head boy quarters. Hart went inside, and returned a few minutes later with a bag full of books.
"I got the house elves to fetch them for me while I was gone." He explained to Tom's questioning look. They walked to the entrance to the Slytherin common room and Tom turned to Hart.
"Well, now you're officially a Slytherin, you need the password. It's Dragonfly." He said, and the wall rearranged itself into the snake door. "You open the door like this." He tapped, slowly so Hart could see, on the first scale, then the fifth scale, then the seventh scale, then the third scale, then the seventh and third scale and the same time. The snake hissed and the door opened.
They entered the common room, and went down the stairs to the seventh year boys dorm. Tom packed his stuff together while Hart wandered around the room, looking at things. "Who uses Heavenly Hair Syrum?" Hart asked from the bathroom, and Tom almost grinned, most unlike him, at the expression in the other boy's voice.
"Azul does. He is obsessed with his hair. He's so like his father." Tom said, pulling books into a bag. He thought he heard Hart muttering to himself, and listened hard.
"...too right. Just like his son as well. And his grandson." Now that didn't make sense. Was he talking about Azul's son? Grandson? But Azul didn't have kids, let alone grandchildren, and as far as he knew didn't plan to for quite a few years, until he'd found himself a respected member of society to hitch up with. Tom wondered what Hart could possibly be talking about.
He pulled the last few things into his bag, but instead of calling, he picked up the bag and went over to the bathroom door, sneaking a look inside.
Hart was standing there, in the floor, with the Heavenly Hair Syrum in his hand, his face bowed low and his long hair flopping over his eyes. He appeared to be... crying? If not, he was definitely shaking, his shoulders trembling in sorrow and for a moment Tom wanted to go up to him and put his arms around him and tell him it would be okay.
The second after he thought this he was very worried with himself. He forced himself to push the thoughts away and spoke, softly. "What's wrong, Hart?" Hart jumped at the sound, and looked up, and Tom could indeed see the faint streaks of tear tracks, and wondered what could possibly have sparked such an emotion. The hair goo wasn't that bad.
"Oh... nothing...It's just that the Malfoy I used to know... well, he was like that too, always fussing over his hair. The same as his father. And, well... they're both dead." Hart was shaking, and Tom took a step forward and hesitantly put a hand on Hart's arm. Hart didn't seem to notice and kept on standing shaking his head as, no doubt, the memories washed over him. "They died right in front of me, as far away as you are now, and I couldn't do a thing to stop it." Ah, so that was it. A guilt trip. Merlin, how many of those had Tom been down. But they were self-destructive and he needed to get Hart out of it now before they were late to class.
"Was it your hand that killed them?" Tom asked, quietly. Hart shook his head slowly. "Then it wasn't your fault, was it." Hart did nothing, just standing there, hanging his head. "Was it?" Tom enquired.
"No..." Hart said.
"Whose fault was it?" Tom asked, curious, and was shocked to see Hart turn his face to him, staring at him with the eyes that seemed to have seen so much. Though unspoken, the words seemed to arrive in his mind without his encouragement, but he couldn't understand how it could possibly be true. You. Your fault. It's your fault.
"No-one. It was no-one's fault." Hart said, sighing and pulling away from Tom's hand. "Come on, we need to get to class." He walked out of the bathroom, Tom heard him leave the room, but was unable to move. How could it be his fault? He didn't know any other Malfoys apart from Azul.
Slowly, he turned around and went back to pick up his bag. He predicted a whole day of thinking ahead of him. Wonderful. At least he knew what he was doing in all the subjects today, so he wouldn't have to pay much attention.
Harry walked down the corridors fast, to the potions classroom. He knew, he just knew that he'd done some serious damage when he'd told Tom about the other Malfoys, people he didn't know, wouldn't meet until forty years time. It was just that it was so hard, knowing that he might be the only one left capable of saving them.
And you know you're getting futher and futher away from being able to do that every time you see him. His mind said, slyly. You don't want to kill him, do you? Not anymore. Now now you've seen how human he is. Harry shook his head in frustration, trying to clear the thoughts from his head.
He entered the class, ignoring Slughorn, and went to sit at the back of the class. He took out his books and sat there in silence. A few seconds later Tom came in, looking slightly confused. He saw Harry at the back of the room and came over.
"Mind if I sit here?" Tom said, and Harry shrugged. Tom sat down, and once again Harry had a sudden flashback to the dream, of Tom's hand holding his face, touching his scar, the little tingles running down is back. No. He told himself strenly Now is not the time to be thinking about that.
The lesson started, and Slughorn introduced Harry to the class. Everyone's eyes flicked to him, and then seemed to take in Tom sitting at his side, and turned around again. The class was with the Gryffindors, and Harry's heart ached when he saw the twin red-heads sitting on the other side of the room. They saw him looking, and gave him a filthy look. Harry half felt like crying, and half like laughing, because they were exactly the same as Ron, still prejudiced against Slytherins.
The rest of the day was pretty much the same. Harry found the lessons challenging, but not too hard, and it seemed that they learnt the same sorts of things as in his own time. There were a couple of references to spells he'd not heard of before, but after nudging Tom and asking him the other boy seemed only to happy to show Harry. He suspected Tom was trying to impress him.
The other teachers certainly seemed to think a lot of Tom. He was often asked to demonstrate things to the class, and never got a question from a teacher wrong. Slughorn in particular seemed especially fond of Tom, and Harry found himself wondering if Tom had had the conversation with his teacher about Horcruxes yet.
Thinking about the Horcruxes made Harry sad. They had lost many good fighters hunting down the Horcruxes, and many of Harry's friends had died trying to destroy them. Harry mentally crossed them off in his mind. The diary, the ring, the cup, the snake, the locket, the unknown piece and the one inside Voldemort himself.
The diary had already been destroyed by him in the chamber of secrets. The ring was destroyed by Dumbledore. During christmas break in seventh year, Olympe Maxime had returned, bloody and close to death, from the giant colonies in the north, where she and Hagrid had been trying to discover whether the giants had the cup, as McGonagall believed. The noble lady of Beauxbatons had brought back with her two things, the cup and a lock of Hagrid's hair. She had been weeping and too ill to speak and she had died within hours of returning. Snape destroyed the cup that night, and it was that single act that convinced everyone that he was truly on the side of the light. No-one ever found out what had happened to Hagrid, but he never came back.
The locket, and the initials R.A.B. had remained a mystery, until one night a terrifying explosion tore the ministry of magic apart. It had killed many of the most powerful wizards in the country, and no-one ever found out exactly what had caused it. What was discovered, however, was the locket, lying on its own in one of the rooms of the department of mysteries. It had not been touched, and there was no sign of any struggle or fight. Still, even if the causes were unknown, the offer of the Horcrux was too precious to waste and it was destroyed the same night. There was however an enchantment on it that killed the person who destroyed it, and unfotunately that person had been Snape. Still, McGonagall had said that they should have been glad it was instantaneous, rather than the slow painful death he would have suffered if he had fallen into Voldemort's hands.
The snake and Voldemort had never been killed and McGonagall had known that there would be no chance of that until the final battle. So instead, all the efforts had been concentarted into discovering the final Horcrux, the one which had been suspected to be linked to one of the founders. There had been three wild goose chases, each one turning up nothing, each one costing the side of the light people. Among those who had fallen in the search for the last Horcrux were George Weasley, Tonks, Dennis and Colin Creevy, Lavender Brown, Ernie Macmillian and Professor Sprout. Even a couple of ghosts had fallen prey to the foul creatures that had been guarding the cape of Hufflepuff, which were like little black holes that sucked in light. The Fat Friar and Nearly-Headless Nick had both been 'eaten' by one of the holes, and even when they finally collected the cape, it turned out not to have been enchanted after all.
They had never found the last Horcrux, and had been trying to delay the battle until they had, but eventually Voldemort had attacked Hogwarts and they had been forced to fight for their lives anyway. Harry wondered whether he might be able to discover the Horcrux while he was here.
It was in History of Magic, after Potions and Transfiguration, that Harry had got the exact date from what Professor Binns, now alive but still dreadfully boring, had been saying. It was the 12th of december, which meant that the christmas break started in just over a week, the annual winter dance was due to take place in five days and that the school was mainly in a festive mood.
The annual winter dance was something that had not existed in Harry's time and it was only for sixth and seventh years. It was held on the 17th of december, the night before everybody left for the christmas break, and when he asked Tom about it after hearing a couple of girls discussing it, he reaslised that once again he was going to have to face the humiliation of asking a girl to the ball. Tom laughed when he heard about Harry's fears, a warm, rich laugh, and Harry had been stunned at how different it was from the cold, scraping chuckle of Voldemort.
Tom said, still laughing, that he didn't have to invite anybody. He seemed convinced that there would be girls lining up to be Harry's date, but Harry wasn't convinced. Nobody knew him. Tom tried to assure him that this was precisely one of the reasons why the girls would be so interested, Harry being a veritable unknown, a new territory to be conquered. Harry had been slightly scared when Tom had put it like that, and had made Tom laugh even more.
Honestly, how many times had he faced off against how many types of horrific monsters, powerful wizards and fearsome challenges? And yet, he was still petrified of asking out a girl. He felt like he was in fourth year again, wishing he could have faced a Hunagrian Horntail rather than a member of the opposite sex. Sadly, that was not an option.
During lunch, Harry sat with Tom and the gang, what Harry had subconsiously labled the 'Future Death Eaters'. He brought up the subject of the winter dance again, and asked everyone who they were going with.
Patricia Black was going with her long-time boyfriend and third-cousin, Felonius Black, who she pointed out over on the Ravenclaw table. Harry was quite disturbed when between the two of them they had everything that Sirius would one day be, and felt half-priviliged, half-shocked to realise that they must be Sirius' parents. Vivian Parkinson had been asked out a couple of days previously by a Victor Snape, and Harry had to physically hold himself still when he was pointed out. The elder Snape was startlingly similar to the younger one and Harry felt a rush of relief when he looked back at Vivian and assured himself that he couldn't have met both of the grumpy teachers parents.
Pearl declared outright that Jerry was taking her, and he flushed a deep pink. Azul gave him a grin and congratualted him on getting the courage to ask Pearl, but she spoke up and informed him that she had insisted he take her. Jerry blushed further and slid down in his seat, Pearl looking round, confused as to why people were laughing. The pale boy who Tom had called Vlad said that he was going alone, that he didn't do partners, and when Harry had looked questioningly at Tom he had mouthed 'Tell you later.'
Azul said he was still deciding who to take, and Tom murmured to Harry that he was still trying to decide between three people, his favorite girlfriend, his favorite boyfriend or Vivian's crush, to spite her for refusing to go with him. He pointed out the three candidates and Harry saw a pretty blonde girl who looked remarkably like Lavender Brown, sitting at the Gryffindor table, a handsome chocolate-haired boy with skin the colour of caramel, on the Ravenclaw table, and Vivian's crush, a sixth year Gryffindor boywhose dark, almost black hair was complemented by the lightly tanned skin, making him unmistakeably Blaise Zabini's father.
Harry asked Tom who he was taking and Tom laughed slightly. "I don't take people to dances." He said. "I don't do relationships, and nobody is brave enough to ask me anyway, apart from Azul, and he already knows I don't want him." He said nothing more, and they didn't talk for the rest of the meal, indeed the rest of the afternoon, and it was only after they were packing away their Herbology stuff that Harry realised he would be sleeping in the Slytherin dorms that night, with the ancestors of four of the people who had tried to kill him in the not-too-distant future.
Dinner was a relatively quiet affair, and afterwards Tom left for his quarters and told Azul to look after Harry. Azul put an arm around Harry's shoulders, leading him down into the dungeons and to the Slytherin house. Harry thought that of the three Malfoys he knew, he definitely prefered Draco. Although the boy was whiny, at times, and obsessive about his hair, his father was cruel and callous, definitely not the type of person who would sling their arm around another person's shoulders, as Azul was now. Really, Harry thought Azul was far too clingy and he suspected that Azul might have a crush on him. Well, the blonde boy would just have to be disappointed, Harry was not going to get into a relationship with a person who would be dead by the time he returned to his own time.
Harry changed into his emerald green pyjamas, which he had had a house elf buy for him that morning, along with the rest of his school books and equipment, and sat on his bed, reading. He had borrowed a book off of Jerry Crabbe, who he had been surprised to find was not illiterate, and it was actually quite interesting. It was a school library book, and he made a mental note to go and check the library for books which would not be there in the future, ones which he might never get to read again.
Slowly, the sounds of the common room dimmed and the other boys came in and got ready for bed. Azul disappeared into the bathroom for half an hour and came out with perfectly brushed hair in a white-blonde halo around his head. He tied it up and got into bed, and gradually everyone drew their curtains and went to sleep.
The last thing Harry wondered before he dropped off was whether he would dream again that night.
When Tom went down to breakfast the next morning he was relieved to see that everyone was there, and there appreaed to have been no arguments. He knew how annoying Azul could be, but Hart was talking to the blonde boy quite happily. Tom wondered for a second whether Azul had made his move on Hart the previous evening and for some reason felt a surge of emotion at the thought, something disturbingly like jealousy. He sqaushed the thought. If Hart wanted Azul, and Azul wanted Hart, then why shouldn't they date?
Still, he couldn't help his hands balling into fists when Azul leaned in close to Hart to whisper something in his ear and Hart shivered, just slightly, at the other boy's breath on his neck. He didn't pull away though, and Tom had to fight for control as he itched to pull Hart away.
After breakfast they had Divination, so Tom got a chance to get Hart away from Azul. As they climbed the tower to the Divination rooms, another place which Hart inexplicably seemed to know the way to, Tom asked Hart what he thought of Azul.
"I'm not sure, really." Hart said, frowning. "He's alright, I suppose, but he keeps hitting on me." Tom inwardly chuckled at the confusion in the boy's voice, and something inside him mused that there might be hope after all. Tom quickly crushed the thought.
"So you don't like him then?" He said, a part of his dreading the answer.
"Well... not in that way." Hart said, and again that annoying little voice inside Tom blossomed into life, hoping and happy and not supposed to be there. Tom adamantly removed it, pushing it away to a tiny corner of his mind.
"Why not? Because you're straight, or because you've got your eye on someone else, or because you just aren't interested?" The very small part of Tom's mind could have kicked him for asking, but most of Tom wanted to know, and he didn't really know why.
"Dunno. I've only ever dated girls, so I think I'm straight, but I'm really not interested in a relationship." The same as you. The little voice put in, and Tom would have gladly killed the part of his mind that said it, becasue it incited in him another host of wonderings that he really did not want to deal with.
Divination was... interesting. The teacher, a centaur, surprisingly enough, was good, inspiring and helpful, and yet Hart was adamant that he couldn't see anything in his crystal ball. While the centaur was somewhere else, Tom asked Hart if he could have a look and before the boy could refuse he he grabbed the orb and stared deeply into it.
Tom was good at Divination, he knew he was. His basic predictions often came true and he had deciphered some of his 'special' dreams more than once to help him. But there wasn't a single time when he had looked into the crystal ball, not even before Pearl had got a letter saying her parents had been killed in a horrific accident with a whomping willow, and seen something as confusing and worrying as he did now.
Gazing into it, in the almost timeless trance that he could get almost instantly now, he saw a vision. There was something in there, but Hart had been refusing to see it, unwilling to let it take full form. Tom took hold of the unformed vision in his mind and spread it out like one would a map on a table.
It was a battlefield. He was seeing it from Hart's perspective, racing across the grass to a fallen figure, a girl with long brown hair. He stopped a couple of times to help people, and once Tom was shocked to see two people remarkably similar to Azul, both of whom met death quite happily. Then Hart reached the girl, and looked up to see a red-head, obviously a Weasley. Then the vision blurred and changed as a voice echoed through his mind, as a part of the vision.
"It's only a mudblood." Tom, with Hart's eyes, looked up, following the trail of blood up midnight black robes, spattered with blood, to a face...
Which Tom did not get to see, as at that moment the real Hart pulled the crystal ball away. "I didn't say you could look." He said, almost snarling.
"I didn't think you had anything to hide." Tom replied, raising an eyebrow. Hart scowled and put the crystal ball back on the table as the centaur returned.
For the rest of the day, Tom couldn't stop himself thinking about the half-vision he had seen. He wanted to know why there were figures who were visibly similar to people he knew, and why they appeared to be the same age as him, when the vision would have had to be set in the future. He had definitely seen something of Azul in the older Malfoy, and wondered if he could possibly be Azul's future son.
Azul's son? Now that seemed familiar. Hart had muttered something about Azul's son, and grandson, the way that they were always obsessed with their hair, and although both of the Malfoys in the vision had been surrounded by battle and any amount of muck, their hair had seemed well cared for.
That would have made the younger Malfoy in the vision Azul's grandson, in which case why the hell was Hart there, speaking to the boy with the ease of an aquaintance of the same age? He couldn't tell how Hart had been in the vision, but he definitely shouldn't have been able to run that fast if he was old enough to know Azul's grandson.
During lunch he wondered whether he should say something to Hart, ask him about the thing he had seen, but he had a feeling the question would not be well-recieved. There was the matter of the faceless person he had almost seen as well.
As the Hart in the vision had looked up, Tom had felt the stirrings of something powerful, and he felt strange about the figure, as if part of him wanted to see but a greater part of him was all but willing to drag him away from the sight. If he wanted to see who the figure had been, he would have to go against his better judgement.
The afternoon passed in a blur, and all too soon he was on his own again in his quarters. He went and lay down on the couch, breathing in the scent of the heavy cloth. Usually if someone had used a piece of furniture in his rooms then he would have had it washed by the house elves so that his quarters only smelled like him, but for some reason he didn't want to get rid of the scent Hart had left behind on the couch.
He didn't know how long he lay there, but all the thinking during the day must have tired him out because when he next looked up at the wizard clock on the wall he saw that it was about midnight. He had slept for a long time. He listened hard, for the tell tale sounds of people moving beyond his walls, and when all was silent he knew that the world was asleep.
Stretching, he slowly got up and left his quarters. Moving swiftly and silently with less noise than a shadow he passed through the corridors until he reached the place he wanted. Opening the door, he slipped inside and listened carefully to the low, mournful singing that was coming from one of the cubicles further down the room. He stepped forward, up to the sink with the snake on it, and spoke the word which would open the passage.
He knew that the ghost heard him, he heard the singing stop and the splash as she came to look, but he was already gone, back down the tunnel he hadn't set foot in since fourth year. The passage closed behind him and he was alone again. It didn't take him long to navigate the stinking tunnels, the route which was so familiar though he hadn't walked it in a while. When he entered the stone chamber and was met with the beautiful sight of the statues and glittering water he sighed in contentment.
He felt at home, down here. The water was not cold, not hot, but just about body temperature so that it felt like nothing, just floating in it. He had swum in it more than once, letting himself float away from reality, thinking back hundreds of year until he could feel the spirit of Slytherin, just waiting for him. It was calming, a kindred soul that understood how he felt, in a way that no-one else ever had or would. It was a pity the man was years dead, they would have achieved great things together.
He didn't call the basilisk that night. He hardly ever did, it got restless if it was disturbed too much and even though he had complete power over it, an uppity serpant was not something he felt like dealing with. He thought back to his conversation with Slughorn a couple of weeks earlier. It had been playing on his mind for days, briefly forgotten in the light of Hart's arrival, but now it was back.
He already knew that he would go ahead with the Horcruxes. He had one prepared in his bedroom, a diary which had very special spells on it, placed only a couple of days after his talk with Slughorn, all ready for when he found a suitable sacrifice. The first tear would be the most painful, he knew, and there was a very good possibility he would die from the attempt, his seventeen year old body too weak to take it.
It would have been easier with another person's help, of course, but hew knew he couldnt tell anyone about his plans. Nobody else could know, not even his closest friends. Slughorn might have suspected something, but he would probably have forgotten it by now. It was at times like this when he really wished Slytherin was alive, to help him.
He lay back on the cool, cold floor, listening to the slow drip, drip, drip of the water around him, looked up at the carved ceiling with the intricate snake design. He had lots of things to think about, concerning school, his carefully made plans, his associates and the enigma of Hart Peake.
Thinking about things, especially hard, confusing and complicate things, was a tiring business, and it wasn't long before he felt himself slipping iff into sleep. Why not? He asked himself. No-one will miss you until breakfast, and you won't sleep in that long anyway. Not on a cold hard floor like this.
Consenting to his bodies demands, he let himself drift away, his thoughts fanning out in his mind, until blackness swallowed up his vision and he knew no more.
Yay, chapter 2 is up! How did you like it? Thankyou for all your lovely reviews, its people like you who keep me writing you know. Now then, the next chapter might be a while, because I have mocks and coursework to do and until my hectic life calms down a bit I won't have another chapter for you. I plan to write more again in the easter holidays so check back around then and you might be lucky! p.s I got bored of plot building so decided to spice things up a bit. Bring on the naughty dreams!