I don't own Harry Potter, nor did I create disco. That dubious honor purportedly goes to one Calvin Harris, although the fact that he also claims to "get all the girls" makes this somewhat suspect: I know for a fact that at least one girl I know personally has never so much as met him.
"Enter," Dumbledore called upon hearing a somewhat tentative knock on his door. It was rather unlike Harry to seem so nervous upon entering his office, though he supposed that a general lack of information regarding the events of the past year might have explained it. Of course, Mr Weasley and Miss Granger angrily leaving the Great Hall during dinner might have contributed, as well.
Harry walked in followed, predictably, by the young woman who had crashed dinner earlier, whom Harry had called "cat," which Dumbledore assumed was a nickname. Dumbledore supposed that that was only natural, since she would have to acclimate to life in the present-day; she would obviously have to introduce herself to the current headmaster if she wanted to continue at Hogwarts.
Seeing her up close, she looked rather familiar, though that was, perhaps, to be expected: Dumbledore had been teaching for nearly a century; if she had attended Hogwarts during his earlier days, she would be clear enough in his mind to jog his memory, but vague enough to leave him scratching his head. It might even have been that she was the mother of a student who looked quite like her, Harry was living proof that children sometimes resembled their parents very closely, indeed.
"Good evening, Professor," Harry said as he walked in.
"Sir," the girl added with a nod.
Dumbledore indicated the seats in front of his desk with a smile. "Please sit. I assume that you wish to discuss your plans for the next year, Miss . . . ?"
The two teenagers exchanged a look before turning back to Dumbledore. "Riddle," the girl said uncomfortably while Harry fidgeted next to her.
And then it clicked.
She looked familiar because she was . . . whatever she was to Tom Riddle. Dumbledore had thought that Harry had simply traveled back in time, but that evidently wasn't the case. This would have to be handled delicately.
"I see," Dumbledore said slowly. He turned to face Harry, careful to keep his expression nothing but curious. "I was under the impression that you had traveled back in time, Harry. Perhaps you could explain?"
Harry ran a hand through his hair nervously, eliciting a glare from Riddle, which he either didn't notice or wasn't bothered by. "I'm not really sure what happened, sir. I thought that I had gone back fifty-two years, but when I got to Hogwarts . . ." he shrugged and trailed off.
"Yes?" Dumbledore prompted, injecting a bit of amusement into his tone that he certainly wasn't feeling.
"Well, she was a she," Harry said, indicating Riddle and speaking rather slowly. "But she's not like Voldemort!" he hastened to add. "And I know what you're going to say, sir: that she could just be tricking me into thinking that. I know how charming he was when he was in school, but that's not what's happening here. Believe me, I thought the exact same thing at first, but . . ." he trailed off again, running his hand through his hair once more.
Dumbledore fought the urge to reach for his wand as Riddle sighed and grabbed his wrist, using it to move his hand down to his lap. She gave it a quick pat, as if to confirm that it was where she wanted for it to be, and turned back to Dumbledore.
"But he got there in the end," she finished for him.
"'Got there,' Miss Riddle?" Dumbledore asked, raising a single eyebrow.
"'Got there' as in 'figured out that she wasn't really like Voldemort,'" Harry supplied.
She's young, Dumbledore thought sadly, though he said nothing of the sort aloud. "I see," he said again, tilting his head slightly. "Can I assume that you wish to enroll at Hogwarts?" He certainly had his reservations about allowing her to do so, but the sooner he got her out of his office, the sooner he could speak to Harry alone.
"Yes, sir," she replied, her tone carefully polite. "Do you want for me to be sorted again, or should I just go to the house that I was in originally?"
Dumbledore paused for a moment, pretending to give the matter some though, before answering. "I think you ought to be re-sorted," he decided, nodding to himself as he spoke. "Yes, it seems only appropriate. After all," he added with his trademark eye twinkle, "it seems that you were never sorted here, at all."
He stood from his desk and went to retrieve the sorting hat. While he could have simply summoned it, he wanted to see if Harry and Riddle would take the opportunity to converse while he had his back turned to them, and, watching their reflections in the window, he was able to do just that. Surprisingly, they didn't, although they were exchanging what seemed to be a significant look. Perhaps he wasn't being as subtle in his suspicions as he had thought. Or perhaps they had simply walked into this conversation assuming the worst of him. If he was right in thinking what he did about Riddle, that seemed quite likely.
The hypocrisy of that thought never occurred to him.
Handing the sorting hat to Riddle, Dumbledore watched her and Harry's reactions closely. Interestingly enough, the former seemed more interested than the latter, who looked as though he already knew exactly what would happen. Unlike in Tom Riddle's sorting so many years ago, the hat took a few minutes to decide on her house before calling out "Ravenclaw!"
Harry's eyebrows shot up as Riddle's face turned unbearably smug. Dumbledore himself raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment as he took the hat from her and returned it to its proper place. He once again took the opportunity to watch the two's reactions as he did so, and once again, they were looking at each other, but not speaking. Dumbledore briefly entertained the possibility that they were using legilimency to communicate, but dismissed it at once. Harry had shown no aptitude for occlumency whatsoever; the idea that he would have progressed so far in its sister art in only a year was ludicrous.
"Nice tie," Harry said to Riddle, pointing at her now blue and white* stripped tie, which had previously been green and silver.
Riddle lifted part of the offending article of clothing up to eye level to examine it critically. "I didn't realise that these were charmed to change if our houses did," she commented, sounding rather impressed.
"Actually, I've never heard of anyone changing houses at all," Harry replied. "Is there even a precedent for that?"
"Of course," Riddle answered just as Dumbledore said, "oh, yes." The former raised her eyebrows incredulously while the latter forced a smile.
"It hasn't happened often," he continued, seemingly intent on answering for Riddle, "but there have been instances of one student needing to change houses for one reason or another. I believe that the ties that Madam Malkin sells, and likely all others designed for Hogwarts students, are charmed to reflect the wearer's house, and thus will change themselves if worn by another person or if the wearer changes houses for whatever reason.
"And, with that said, perhaps we should discuss your living arrangements over the summer? As I recall, your . . . counterpart, lived in an orphanage during school holidays. That doesn't seem the most appropriate choice, all things considered."
"She could stay with me, Professor," Harry supplied helpfully.
"I don't believe that that would be for the best, Harry. Unless, of course, you have an ulterior motive in your suggestion?" Dumbledore raised an eyebrow suggestively.
Harry blushed furiously as Riddle smirked and managed to say "that wasn't what I was suggesting, sir."
Riddle gave him a patronising pat on the head. "It's alright, Harry. We all know you haven't exactly got a way with words."
"Now you're ganging up on me," he muttered sullenly, eliciting a chuckle from Dumbledore and a genuine-seeming smile from Riddle.
"In any event," Dumbledore said, trying to get the conversation back on track, "perhaps you could stay at the Leaky Cauldron over the summer?"
"I don't have any money, though, Professor, and staying there for two whole months would be expensive," Riddle countered.
"I can lend you some," Harry supplied, before hastily adding, "with interest, of course. Think of it as me investing in you," upon seeing the annoyed look on Riddle's face.
On seeing her nod once, though rather tersely, Dumbledore smiled at the two of them. "Excellent. Now, if you could make your way to Ravenclaw Tower, Miss Riddle, I need to discuss some things with Mr Potter. You won't need a password," he added, seeing her questioning look. "The Ravenclaw common room requires one to answer a, well, a riddle, if you'll pardon the seeming pun, to enter it, as opposed to a password."
"I'll see you tomorrow before class," Harry said as Riddle stood up.
"Tomorrow is Sunday, Harry," Dumbledore cut in curiously.
"But it's Tuesday," Harry replied, sounding confused.
"It's still the seventh here," Riddle interrupted. "The seventh was a Thursday in '45, but I guess it's a Saturday in '97."
With that said, she turned to leave, right as Harry muttered, "oh, yeah," rather sheepishly.
Once the door had closed behind her, Dumbledore stood and walked to the cabinet which Harry knew contained his Pensieve. Placing it on the desk between them, Dumbledore spoke slowly and deliberately. "We have much to discuss, Harry."
Harry, seeing a very long conversation coming, decided to step in before it happened. "First, sir, I have a few things that I need to ask about. What happened at the Ministry? Why is Professor Slughorn here? Where's Snape? What happened to Malfoy? Where's Sirius? For that matter-"
"Please, Harry, allow me to answer those questions before you overwhelm me with any more," Dumbledore interrupted cheerfully. "Mr Malfoy is currently in hiding from Voldemort after failing in his assigned task of assassinating me. He managed to allow a number of Death Eaters into the school through a security breach that has since been fixed, who were assisted by Professor Snape. We, that is to say I and the other members of the Order of the Phoenix, were able to drive them away before any harm could be done." Seeing that Harry was bursting with questions, Dumbledore plowed on.
"As for Sirius, in light of the Ministry's, shall we say, mishandling of Voldemort's return, I was able to secure him a fair trial."
"You mean-" Harry began excitedly.
"Sirius is now a free man, Harry," Dumbledore confirmed, smiling widely at Harry's obvious exuberance at the news. "I believe he has offered to let you spend the summer with him, following your seventeenth birthday, of course."
Harry frowned at that. "Why my seventeenth birthday, sir?"
"Because that is when the wards protecting you at your Aunt's home will fall: the moment when you become a man, in the eyes of the wizarding world, at least."
"And at the Ministry last year, sir? What exactly happened after I left?"
"A number of Order members came to rescue you and your friends, though I imagine that they were rather surprised to find you already missing." Harry grinned sheepishly at that. "At any rate, the end result is that many Death Eaters were captured, Voldemort's return was made common knowledge, and nobody on our side was hurt in any serious way."
Harry nodded. "That's good. I was worried that they might have been hurt after I went missing. But now what? It's not as though Voldemort's given up, is it? Just because he can't hear the prophecy anymore-"
"Do you mean to tell me that you had it with you when you went back in time?" Dumbledore asked sharply.
Harry nodded slowly. "I smashed it when I knew I was safe, sir."
Dumbledore frowned. "Then I take it you know of its contents?" Seeing Harry nod, the old man's frown deepened. "I see. That isn't how I would have chosen for you to find out, Harry. Have you told anyone about it?"
"You mean have I told Kathleen?" Harry asked rhetorically. "I mentioned it to her, but I didn't tell her any specifics."
Dumbledore sighed and rose from his seat, walking slowly to the window. "It is late, Harry," he said, rather unnecessarily. "Perhaps the rest of this conversation can be had at another time? As I say, there is much that I must tell you."
"Of course, sir," Harry said, standing up. Just as he was about to turn around to leave, he stopped and addressed Dumbledore once more. "Professor, what should I tell people about where I've been? They'll definitely ask, and not saying anything will just make them more curious."
Dumbledore turned to face him, his hands clasped behind his back. "Why not say that you have been studying abroad in preparation for your NEWTs? This could also explain how you came to know Miss Riddle."
Harry nodded. "Thank you, sir. Goodnight."
"Goodnight, Harry."
Now alone again, Dumbledore retook his seat and heaved a great sigh. It seemed as though it was going to be another long year.
* I've sort of permanently changed Ravenclaw's colours to blue and white in any and all of my stories, rather than blue and bronze. I have two reasons for this: one, it contrasts it with Hufflepuff (yellow and black), and two, bronze is a stupid colour. Ehem. Excuse me, I seem to have some . . . unresolved issues with the colour bronze.
AN: Holy balls, that's a lot of exposition. Regardless, I recently learned (as in just yesterday) that being stranded outside during a blizzard is both a terrifying and oddly awe-inspiring experience. It kinda leans more towards the former, though, and when I say "blizzard," I mean a proper fucking blizzard, not just a bit more snow than I'm accustomed to seeing: 23 inches of snow and some seriously fucked-up wind speeds. I've also learned that meteorologists don't fuck around, and that when they say "heavy snowfall," they really fucking mean it, so lesson learned, I guess.
When I promised that I would be back to my regular schedule this week, I wasn't accounting for my internet deciding that it hated me. Given that technology in general seems to hold me in incredibly low regard, I probably should have, but . . . eh. That, I was really procrastinating writing this chapter. But enough about my personal failings, which allegedly exist. Heh, as if.
Anyways, like I've said, I'm looking for the following: a new cover image, a companion series about the previous year, and suggestions for the plot of this story. The last of those is far and away the most important: I'm this close *has two fingers reasonably close together* to making this a humor series mainly about Harry and Kat trolling people in between finding Horcruxes. This close. I'd open a poll to decide whether or not I go that route, but the fact that don't really know what I'd do otherwise renders that impractical, so here's what Imma do, instead: if I get a suggestion that I like better than my trolling idea in the next week, I'll run with it, if not, trolling it is. Hopefully that's a decent-enough compromise, I suppose.
PS: I have no idea how I've managed to forget mentioning this so many times, but I'm currently looking for a beta, so PM me if you're interested and able.
