~The Time of Roses~

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Summary: Harry travels back to 1942 in order to kill the 16 year old Tom Riddle. But apparently, someone else had the same idea. Who is the mysterious Arcturus Black? And why is he kissing Riddle? SLASH HP/TR.

Warning: Rated M for slash (homoerotic romance) between Harry Potter and Tom Riddle, with a little interference from Arcturus Black. Whoever he is...

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~Chapter 4~

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"Isn't he beautiful?" Hagrid gazed, enraptured, down at the night-black monster in his arms. The infant acromantula, which was about the size of a first-year student, rubbed one of its furry legs pensively against Hagrid's cheek. Hagrid chuckled. "Oh, look, he knows his mummy, don't he?" He beamed at Harry and Arcturus. "Isn't he the loveliest creature yeh ever saw?"

Arcturus ran his fingers through his hair. "Erm. Yes, lovely... But Hagrid, I don't think you should keep him here at school."

"Arcturus is right, Hagrid," said Harry quickly. "Surely, he... he can't be happy, cooped up in a little cupboard in the dungeons like that. He needs to be out in the forest, where he can run free, enjoy the breeze-"

"That's right," put in Arcturus eagerly. "The Forbidden Forest would be a great place for him, Hagrid. He's much too dangerous to keep at school."

"Dangerous?" Hagrid was indignant. "What do yeh mean? My little Aragog wouldn't harm a billywig, he wouldn't."

"Not on purpose, of course." Arcturus eyed the acromantula warily. "But what if... what if someone scares him, and he attacks in... er, self-defense? Then you would be blamed. You could even be expelled from Hogwarts. We don't want that to happen, do we, Hagrid?"

"Expelled?" Hagrid burst out laughing. "For keepin' a pet? That's jus' silly. Yeh can't be serious, Black!"

"I can't be Siri- what?" Arcturus seemed terribly flustered all of a sudden.

"I don't think that is silly at all," said Harry softly. "It is illegal to raise acromantulas, isn't it? And if there were some sort of incident at school, you may only be expelled, Hagrid, but imagine what they might do to Aragog."

"To Aragog?" whispered Hagrid. His arms tightened protectively around the hairy monster.

"That's right!" said Arcturus eagerly. "Harry's got an excellent point, Hagrid. They might even..." He lowered his voice to a whisper: "...put him down. We wouldn't want that to happen, do we?"

Hagrid grew pale. "Put him down? Little Aragog? Yeh... yeh really reckon he would be safer in the forest, then?"

"Absolutely." Harry nodded enthusiastically. "Best place for him. All that fresh air... And you can always visit him there, Hagrid. As often as you like."

Hagrid sighed deeply. "Yes. Yes, I suppose yeh are right. Come on, then, little fella. Come with mummy. We're goin' to find yeh a nice new nest." He strolled off down the torchlit hallway with his precious burden, a black pincer clicking menacingly at the two boys over his shoulder.

"Well, that's one problem solved," muttered Arcturus. He glanced thoughtfully at Harry. "Thanks for your help. Maybe you are not a bad sort, after all. For a Slytherin."

"Thanks," muttered Harry, uncertain whether he should take Arcturus' statement as a compliment or not.

Something pearly-white and insubstantial fluttered by. "Good evening, boys... Wait, what?" The translucent form of Nearly Headless Nick wheeled around and came to a halt in the air near Harry and Arcturus. An expression of astonishment passed over his spectral features. "But... but this is impossible!"

"Hello, Sir Nicholas." Arcturus grinned at the Gryffindor house ghost. "Er.. What's impossible?"

Nearly Headless Nick looked from Arcturus to Harry, and then back to Arcturus. "This," he whispered. "The two of you, here at Hogwarts at the same time. That can't be."

"Really?" Arcturus looked curiously at the ghostly nobleman. "Why can't it, Sir Nicholas?"

But Nearly Headless Nick merely shook his head. "Can't tell you, I'm afraid. It's the Ghost Code, you see."

"The Ghost Code? Ghosts have a code?"

The ghost looked sternly at Arcturus. "Of course we do. Did you imagine our condition to be a state of absolute lawlessness? There is a rather strict code of conduct for the deceased, especially regarding conveying any information about the future to the living. When one is...ah... released from the constraints of time, one gains certain new perspectives. In other words, a person who passes on from the land of the living and becomes a ghost can see the past and the future as clearly as the present."

"You can see the future?" Harry stared at him.

Nearly Headless Nick inclined his head gravely. "Yes, of course. All ghosts can. But we cannot speak of it to mere living mortals, of course. That would be against the ancient code that governs our very existence. One gets used to knowing the future after a while, and one learns not to think about it too much. But when certain paradoxes arise-" He looked doubtfully at the two boys for a moment, then shook his wobbly head slowly. "Oh, dear - I haven't had a headache in almost five hundred years, but I can definitely feel one coming on now." He sighed and vanished down the corridor.

Harry and Arcturus stared after him. "What... what do you think that was all about?" whispered Arcturus.

Harry shrugged. "No idea." He eyed a group of small girls skipping by in the hallway. "Oh, did you happen to see a little girl with glasses around, by any chance? I'm not sure which year she's in. Her name is Myrtle. I have a... a small matter to discuss with her, but I don't know where to find her."

"Myrtle?" Arcturus gave him a distinctly odd look. "Well, that's funny, Harry. As it happens, I just talked to a girl named Myrtle this morning."

"You did? But... " Harry rubbed his forehead. He was beginning to feel a headache coming on as well. "What did you talk to her about, then?"

Arcturus' luminous grey eyes studied Harry's face closely. "I complimented her on her glasses, actually. I told her that they made her look very pretty. And I said that if anyone gave her a hard time at all, she should come straight to me about it instead of going off on her own to cry."

"You did?" Harry couldn't help smiling. "I... I was actually thinking of saying something fairly similar."

They two boys stared at each other for a moment in silence. Then Arcturus whispered. "This is just too strange, Black. Listen, I know this is impossible, but I have to ask anyway. Are you-"

"Arcturus! There you are!" They both turned around at the sound of Jane Selwyn's unnaturally sweet and cheerful voice. Arcturus groaned.

"I promised to help you with your arithmancy homework, don't you remember?" Jane flashed Arcturus a bright smile and adjusted her little pink hair bow.

Arcturus looked pale. "Oh. That's right, I forgot... Listen, Jane, I really appreciate it, but it's not necessary. I already finished all the problems."

"You did? On your own? Including the one where you had to use the Mispar Godol tables?" Jane eyed him doubtfully. "Somehow, I don't think so, Arcturus Black. Come along now, dear."

"It's all right," said Harry quickly. "I... I helped him with his homework, Jane. He's all set."

Arcturus shot Harry a look of profound gratitude, but Jane merely giggled.

"Oh, don't be silly, Harry. You don't even take arithmancy. Do you even know what the Mispar Godol is?"

"Yes, of course. It's... It's..."

"I thought so." Jane gave Harry a sweet smile that chilled him to the bone. "Come, come, boys, you mustn't tell lies. Come along, now, Arcturus. You know we had agreed to do this."

Arcturus sighed deeply and trailed helplessly after Jane.

"Just... just make sure you use your own pen, all right, Arcturus?" called Harry after him. "Don't borrow any of hers."

...

"Harry? Where are you going?" Tom Riddle opened his eyes sleepily.

Harry flushed and cursed himself for not being more quiet. He had been so sure that everyone was sleeping. "Just taking a stroll. I'll be back in a little while. Go back to sleep, Tom."

"A stroll? In the middle of the night?" Tom sat up in bed, his silver-grey eyes glittering now. "Wait up - I'll come with you. Where are you going, anyway?"

Harry tried to keep his voice steady. "To the Chamber of Secrets, actually. And yes, I suppose you can come with me, Tom. I was going to do this alone, but perhaps it makes sense for you to be there."

"The Chamber of Secrets?" Tom's quicksilver eyes widened. "Do you know where it is, then?"

Harry nodded silently.

"Where? I have narrowed it down to the first or second floor, but I'm still not entirely certain..."

"You will see, Tom."

Tom nodded and slid quietly out of bed. "All right. But the other day, when you spoke Parseltongue, you said that you didn't want me to find it."

Harry swallowed. "I know. I... I think I have changed my mind about that, Tom. Perhaps it is better if you come along after all." It is the place where you and I first met, Tom, the first time I saw your face. Yours, not Voldemort's. But this time, I'm prepared for what's coming and you are not. This time, I'm the one in charge.

They slipped silently out of the dormitory. Harry pulled his invisibility cloak from his pocket and unfurled it over both of them.

"An invisibility cloak?" Tom whispered. "Where did you get one of those?"

"Family heirloom," said Harry shortly. "Just in case we meet anyone." For a brief, absurd moment, he wondered if Arcturus had been wearing a cloak, too, when he was sneaking around the corridors of the school at night. No, that would be terribly unlikely. Invisibility cloaks were very rare, weren't they?

"Where are we going?" whispered Tom a little later as they climbed yet another flight of stairs. "The entrance to the Chamber can't be this high up."

"We need to go somewhere else first," breathed Harry in Tom's ear. He could feel the warmth from Tom's limbs as they climbed the stairs together under the cloak. He had walked under the cloak with Ron and Hermione often enough, but he was used to them. Tom's presence under the cloak felt much more distracting. The Boy Who Lived and The Dark Lord, he mused to himself, glancing furtively at Tom's angelic face under the cloak, walking invisibly through Hogwarts together... This is completely absurd. I wonder why it feels so right?

They paused outside a heavy oak door. "The headmaster's office?" Tom sounded puzzled.

"I just need to get something in here first, Tom." Harry glanced at the hideous gargoyle that guarded the entrance. It stared stonily back. Apparently, the cloak didn't fool it for an instant. "Do you... er... happen to know if Professor Dippet likes sweets?"

"Sweets? I have no idea." Tom grinned. "But if it's the password to his office you need, it's "Fifi LaFolle". Wronski let it slip once; he thought it was terribly funny."

"Fifi LaFolle?" Harry repeated, and the gargoyle swung aside with a deep sigh that seemed to indicate that it didn't care much for the password either. "Isn't that an author of some sort? I think I've seen her books at Mrs. Fi-... at a friend's house."

"I suppose one might call her an author." Tom pushed the door open. "She writes wizarding romances. All sorts of romantic nonsense about soul mates, true love, magic and time travel. Old Dippet adores her books, apparently. So, what are we doing in here, Harry?"

"Finding the Sorting Hat. Lumos." Harry pulled the invisibility cloak off and scanned the shelves in the light from his wand. "There it is!" He pulled the old hat down from a shelf and sneezed as a cloud of dust billowed from the tattered fabric.

"Well, well, well!" The Sorting Hat sounded amused. "I knew you would be back! Getting sick of Slytherin House already, boy? Ready to be re-sorted?"

"Re-sorted?" Tom stared at the hat. The hat stiffened at the sound of his voice.

"Him?" The hat sounded startled now. "Why in Merlin's name did you bring him along? You I'll sort again if you wish, my little Gryffindor rebel, but I'm not re-sorting that other one. He's a Slytherin, if I ever saw one."

Harry sighed. "I did not come here to ask you to sort me again. I have a different favor to ask you this time."

"Wait, I don't understand, Harry. Why does the hat think you are a Gryffindor?" Tom gave Harry a puzzled look. "You are a Slytherin like me, aren't you? Why, you even speak Parseltongue, for Merlin's sake!"

Harry ignored him and turned to the hat. "I'm going into the Chamber of Secrets, and I need a weapon."

"A weapon-?" The hat remained motionless for a minute. Then it breathed softly. "Ah... You are a true Gryffindor, aren't you?"

Something gleamed silver, and Harry reached into the frayed fabric of the hat. His hand closed around hard, unyielding metal. With a grin, he pulled an ancient sword, set with glittering rubies at the hilt, out of the hat.

"What in Merlin's name is that?" breathed Tom.

The Sorting Hat gave a wheezy chuckle. "That, young Slytherin, is the Sword of Gryffindor. Didn't see that coming, did you?"

"It's... beautiful..." Tom whispered hoarsely, his silver eyes fixed on the sword.

"You like ancient magical artifacts, don't you?" There was a menacing note in the hat's whisper now. "I know about you, Tom Riddle. Well, this one will never be yours. Only a true Gryffindor can touch this sword."

"A true Gryffindor-?" Tom stared at Harry. "But... But he's not..."

"Let's go, Tom." Harry took Tom's hand and pulled him out of the headmaster's office. "Here, let's put the cloak back on."

They walked in uneasy silence down the stairs. Harry could feel Tom's silver gaze lingering on him. Finally, Tom whispered: "Harry? Did you just hex the Sorting Hat? It was acting terribly strange. First it sorts you into Slytherin, and then it gives you Gryffindor's sword, even though you are no Gryffindor. You must have used some very powerful magic to confound it- "

"Long story, Tom." Harry paused and pushed a door open in front of them. "Come on, Tom. This is where the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets is."

"In the girls' bathroom?" Tom smiled at first, but then he drew his breath sharply. "Of course! Why didn't I think of that? Some of the clues in the ancient texts I found in the Restricted Section did suggest a connection to water..."

Harry pulled the cloak off, and they both glanced around the shadowy bathroom. A shaft of silvery moonlight fell through the tall tapered windows and cast the room in a soft half-light. White marble sinks gleamed in the shadows, and the heavy old taps glittered silver in the light of the moon.

"Somewhere in here..." whispered Tom, running his hands over the white marble. "But where, Harry?"

Without answering, Harry turned to a silver tap shaped like an ornate serpent and whispered in Parseltongue: *Open!*

With a hollow groan, the heavy marble sink shifted to the side, and a gaping black hole opened in front of them.

"Merlin! What sort of wizard are you, Harry?" There was something new in Tom's silver eyes now, something like... admiration? "How did you know what to do? You are no ordinary student, are you, Harry Black? All the rest of them are naive fools, playing at conjuring tricks, the students and the teachers alike. But you are different. You are a true wizard, like Slytherin himself..." He added almost shyly: "I think you and I could become friends, Harry..."

Harry swallowed. He tucked his wand into the pocket of his robes and grasped the Sword of Gryffindor tightly in his right hand. "Friends? I don't know about that... Come with me, Tom. It's time to meet Slytherin's monster. This time, you will see it face to face."

"This time? What are you talking about?" Tom clutched his wand tightly and followed Harry into the dark chamber.