Lord Of Time
Chapter 7
Harry stirred awake, blinking at the top of the green canopy on his bed and stretching languidly before sitting up ready to face his 'first' day at Hogwarts. Dippet had said he didn't need to go to classes, not that he was actually forbidden to go. The thought of sitting around doing nothing held no appeal to him, in fact it was pretty much the only thing he still had in common with his eleven-year-old self when he was a teenager. He'd had enough of sitting doing nothing in a cupboard most of his life, so anything was better… different. It probably was also why he had gotten into situations he definitely shouldn't have as well… oh, it helped with Dumbledore holding the reins and guiding him, of course.
Sliding the curtains open, he noticed that his new roommates were still asleep; he froze however, upon seeing the sleeping face of his one-time enemy. Sometime during the night his arm had came out of the curtains, pushing them slightly open. Bloody hell, Harry thought to himself, how on earth did he look so peaceful? So angelic? He was beginning to understand why everyone flocked to him. Beneath his masks was a boy so rejected by society that all he could think about was tearing it apart. No, he was just arrogant and believed he knew best; with some help he could change… at least Harry hoped so. It was odd to think Tom was more like Dumbledore than anyone would ever realize. Only, Dumbledore had chickened out at the last minute and decided he didn't want to go to the extremes Gellert Grindelwald was prepared to go.
Wandlessly checking the time, he realized he had ample time to have a long shower. With that in mind he padded over to his trunk and gathered his school uniform for the day, then made his way to the showers. Of course, he had no clue as to their location, but after a few minutes investigating he found them just fine. The House layout wasn't all that different, though there was much more space here than there was in Gryffindor tower. Which shouldn't be a surprise, the dungeons was largely unused due to its size. The entire tower was used ― cramped, one might say.
Testing the water, he stood under the hot spray and enjoyed the luxury of not having to worry about someone attacking him. Last night had probably been one of the best nights he'd had in a long time, in both terms of sleep and being able to relax. He'd never thought he would see the day where he could be in the presence of Tom Riddle, aka Voldemort, and actually fall asleep! It was deeply ironic and a smirk made its way onto his face. He was unsure of how the interactions would go; he wasn't just a first-year, he was a third-year who had come out of nowhere, sleeping in Tom's dorm. No doubt the boy was unsure of how to proceed as well.
Burning anger flared through him just thinking about Dumbledore. Damn the old man, if Dumbledore hadn't been so suspicious of Tom, treating him as if he were dark… it was no wonder he had gone down this path. If he had just bloody helped him once, who knows what would have happened to him? Hell, he was smart as fuck, could have been Minister of Magic. There was something he missing, in terms of Dumbledore; could it really be something as simple as him having a fear of those with powerful magic? It wasn't just the powerful ones you needed to look out for. Take Pettigrew for instance, he was weak both in personality and magic, and yet he had killed his fair share of people ― directly or indirectly. You'd think a smart guy like Dumbledore would realize that, but no, Merlin forbid. He sighed softly. Granger had said logic wasn't exactly a wizard's strong suit, and he had to agree with the whole of his being even if she had been the one to say it.
Quickly scrubbing his body with the stuff he'd bought, which by the way was way cheaper than he was used to… but everything was, really. It smelt odd. Not a bad odd, but nothing like he was used to. He should have checked what he was buying but he hadn't, still too wound up over Dumbledore to think clearly. Shampooing his hair, he was still finding it really weird that he had long hair! He'd gone his entire life with… what had Death called it? Oh yes, a bird's nest, which may very well have been a rather apt description.
Turning the shower off, he grabbed the towel that hung on the outside, dragging it past the curtain and began to towel off. He didn't use a spell; he didn't like how it felt, to be honest, and his hair was always worse than unmanageable when he did it. Stepping out he quickly put his underwear on, then took his time with the rest, finding something else odd. All his scars were gone, most importantly the scar on his forehead. Even the words Umbridge had forced him to scribe into his hand were absent. A blank slate, he mused, a fresh start… somehow that both thrilled and worried him in equal measures.
Clipping his cloak on, a sly grin made its way onto his face again. He'd been awake all of half an hour and he'd gone through every range of emotion possible. It was a nice change he had to admit, as he left the shower rooms and made his way back to the dorm. For the past however many years, all he had felt was anger, sorrow, rage, and terror. When he got back to the dorm he noticed the others were wakening up. Paying them no attention, he opened his trunk and grabbed the green bag he'd bought; it had been the sturdiest and cheapest one. He had wanted decent uniforms, so he'd gotten the cheapest of everything else. He'd been lucky to find things that looked almost brand new, but compared to the purebloods' it was obvious that his weren't exactly top material.
He had no idea what classes he had today; he would have to take all the books, but with a enlargement and feather-light spell, it would be no trouble carrying them around, so he dumped them all in. He also added parchment, ink, and quills. He could feel their eyes boring into him, but at least they weren't being totally obvious about it. Swinging his bag onto his back he left the room without once looking back, his gait confident and assured.
Getting to the Great Hall had been rather tricky, he'd had to turn back twice, despite the fact he had been shown the way just yesterday. He made mental notes as he went along, to make sure it didn't happen again. Eventually as he turned another corridor he was greeted with a sight he was more familiar with, the entrance hall. Not that it was by any means small, it took five minutes to get from the dungeons to the double doors of the Great Hall. Sliding in, he made his way over to the Slytherin bench. Only sixth and seventh-years were there; everyone else was still asleep or just getting up.
Sliding into his seat, the mask he had chosen for himself, which was a bit between wariness and excitement, was firmly in place. The wariness wasn't exactly exaggerated, but the excitement? That was getting tedious to keep up with, thankfully though he would be able to stop being excited about everything within a few days, a week at most. He had no fear that the Slytherins would get in his way and tell on him. If there was absolutely anything he knew about them, it was that the Slytherins kept secrets like nobody's business.
"Hadrian, my boy! It's good to see you up and about," Slughorn said standing in front of Harry, beaming at him as if he was the most exciting person he had seen in decades. "I was informed that you wouldn't be attending classes until Monday," he added, gazing at the teen shrewdly.
Harry peered at him sheepishly through his fringe. "I don't want to sit about doing nothing, Sir, I'd like to go to class… if that's okay?" he asked the wizard for permission, knowing that it would work. Slughorn had an inflated sense of self-worth and an ego to boot. He was a good wizard though; just a bit blind when it came to his Slytherins, but the same could be said for Dumbledore and the Gryffindors.
"Of course, if you feel up to it," Slughorn said puffing up, "Just know that you can go back to the common room if it gets too much, you understand?" He'd already been given an earful by the matron to make sure Hadrian didn't do too much.
"I will, Sir," Harry told him nodding his head.
"Very well," Slughorn conceded; it looked as though the teen had made up his mind. "This is a map of Hogwarts, and your timetable for the term. If you have trouble, ask one of the Prefects or Head Boy to help you, we always look after our own," he said grimly, thumping Harry on the back a little too hard, nearly causing him to end up on the floor.
Oh, he was so getting rid of this bloody body; that had actually bloody hurt. He'd forgotten Slughorn's annoying habit of being a little too familiar with someone… even if they didn't know who he was. Watching him leave, he couldn't help but wonder if he had the Slug Club open yet. He certainly did by the time Tom Riddle was sixteen or something.
Staring down at his timetable, he began to memorise it, at the same time putting food on his plate.
Monday: Charms; (break) Herbology; Magical Law and Finance; (Lunch) Arithmancy; Care of Magic Creatures
Tuesday: Transfiguration; (Break) Healing; Healing; (Lunch) Muggle World Studies; Potions
Wednesday: Charms; (Break) Defence Against the Dark Arts; History of Magic; (Lunch) Ancient Runes; potions
Thursday: Transfiguration; (Break) Defence Against the Dark Arts; Herbology; (Lunch) Healing; Magical Theory
Friday: Potions; (Break) Potions; Ancient Studies; Arithmancy; (Lunch)
His timetable was pretty full nearly every day, but that didn't surprise him given the number of classes he had decided to take. He only had three classes today, one of which he was very curious about: Ancient Studies; he couldn't wait to see what that was about. Arithmancy, though, he hadn't studied a lot, so he would have to definitely listen to the teacher in that class. The list of teachers was at the bottom for each class, names he was familiar with… or at least a few of them. He could scarcely believe that the same teachers he would have for Arithmancy and Ancient Runes were the same as the people in his own time. He hadn't taken the class though, so it didn't matter to him much.
He had Potions, he could potentially get the ingredients he needed for his potion, but did he want to risk it on his first day, when people were going to keep a extra cautious eye on him? There was one thing Hogwarts really didn't tolerate, and that was thievery… even if it was only of some ingredients. Ah, who the hell cared? He'd be given a slap on the wrist and warned not to do it again; that was only if he failed… and he was used to stealing, so he wouldn't have a problem. At least he hoped not.
If he got there early, he could gather his ingredients without anyone else there… no, that wouldn't work; he had no idea what they were working on ― or even if they were working on a potion. Who was to say Slughorn would let him even brew a potion? He might have him working on a first-year one. He hoped not, that would just be embarrassing. Then again, he hadn't exactly been the most responsible of teachers. Harry barely noticed the students trickling in or anyone sitting next to him digging into their own breakfasts.
Thinking it through thoughtfully, absently eating, he realized he had to take his time. Rushing just resulted in a bloated stomach that was full faster. He would just have to risk it; if he got caught he would just sneak outside of school on the weekend and get to Gringotts. Thank Merlin he knew the ins and outs of the castle… but was it safe? Being back in this body, did he have the trace on him? Hmm, it was a good question; he might need to perform the ritual to remove the trace. There were only a few places the wards didn't register inside Hogwarts that would allow him to do it successfully without anyone knowing, the Room of Requirements and the Chamber of Secrets. The latter was very much out of the question.
Wandless magic didn't circumvent the trace, so he couldn't just perform Wandless magic and Apparate. It was really too bad, but he would succeed, he was confident in that at the least. Dropping his fork on the empty plate, he nabbed a piece of toast and chewed on it. He didn't want to be too early. The last thing he wanted was people calling him a teacher's pet, which was how it would look. There was only one problem with the ritual; he didn't remember everything. He would need the book for reference, and the only place he could think of getting one was down in Knockturn Alley, at Borgin and Burkes to be specific. He had no idea if he would have it; that left him in a bit of a pickle. He had to have the trace removed; he wasn't going anywhere outside of Hogwarts without knowing he was free to use magic.
Especially if he was going where he thought they were going to put him ― not that he would stay.
Standing up, aware of the eyes on him, he grabbed his bag from under his seat and slung it over his shoulder before leaving the Great Hall. He was unaware that one of the Slytherins was watching him go before standing up once he was at a respectable distance so as not to be accused of following anyone.
"Incido!"
Harry's head jerked up on hearing the spell, wand slipping into his hand, only to see someone skidding along the hall, crying out in surprise and pain. Harry couldn't help but think there was something very… familiar about that voice, he just couldn't place it.
"Watch where you're going, Myrtle!" a blonde-haired girl called, surrounded by her friends and laughing uproariously.
Harry narrowed his eyes, Myrtle? Bloody hell, he couldn't help the shiver that went up his spine.
"Good one, Olive," chortled one of the girls beside the blonde.
Harry quickly made his way over to Myrtle, uncaring that she was a Ravenclaw and that he would probably be seen as weak for helping someone outside of his own House. "Here, let me help you up," Harry said, holding his hand out. She stared at him suspicious for a few seconds before taking his hand and he helped her to her feet. "You shouldn't let them do that to you, all it takes is the wrong place at the wrong time for you to end up with broken bones or worse!" If he could just instill some confidence in her, she might not end up in that damn bathroom crying her eyes out.
"I tried, Hornby just got worse," Myrtle said, swallowing back the tears. She was bullied constantly just because she had glasses and was pale. "She has an older brother too,"
"I doubt he will touch you," Harry scoffed, "Everyone tries to be tough just because they're got siblings at school. Just go to the library and read some jinxes and spells; make sure you get the better of her. If people start laughing at her, then she will leave you alone." Bullies only liked to act tough.
"Tarantallegra!" Hornby cast, aiming it at the other student helping Myrtle― that would teach him.
"Protego!" Harry snapped, with such force that the spell bounced back too fast for her to even think of getting out of the way. Then immediately her feet began to dance against her will, causing her friends to laugh at her in amusement. "See?" Harry muttered, gesturing towards the red-faced bully.
Myrtle giggled in merriment. Harry couldn't help but wince, flashing back to seeing her as a ghost.
"I'll get you for this!" Hornby hissed, once one of her friends had taken pity on her and cancelled the jinx on her.
"I'd love to see you try," Harry snarled, glaring at her viciously, a look promising her that he would make her life a living hell if she tried anything. She paled drastically before rushing away; her friends followed behind her just as intimidated. "Behind the swagger they're nothing but cowards. Learn shield charms first, they'll come in the handiest. You best go get some breakfast; you only have ten more minutes before you need to go to class."
"Accio Myrtle's bag!" Harry chanted. It flew at him and he handed it to her, swallowing thickly at the utter adoration on her face. Ah hell, he just hoped he hadn't made her crush on him like she had in his future. Flushing brightly he remembered her bloody watching him while he tried to figure out the egg clue for the second task. "Bye,"
"Wait, I don't even know your name!" Myrtle called, just as he turned his back.
Harry turned back around to her, seeing the hopeful look on her face. "Hadrian Peverell; it's nice to meet you but I have to go."
Myrtle nodded solemnly, "My name is Myrtle Warren, thank you." Nobody had helped her before, and the last thing she'd ever expected was a Slytherin to help her. But the boy had been hurt, by Grindelwald's men they said, before coming here accidentally. Even she wasn't secluded enough not to hear the rumours. She hadn't realized until now that he was the one, though. He was new, which meant he probably didn't know how things worked; the chances were he wouldn't speak to or help her again.
Startled, Harry nodded before leaving. So Myrtle hadn't been her last name? Interesting, that was definitely something he hadn't known in his future… or past, whichever. He had always assumed Myrtle was her last name. Hornby he had a distinct impression he had heard of before, but he hadn't listened to Myrtle properly.
Harry was unaware of the dark eyes watching him with a piercing gaze, already realising there was more to Hadrian Peverell than met the eye. After all, if he had just learned about the magical world… where on earth would he know those spells from? Now he was officially curious. The new boy had lied, no doubt to Dippet and Dumbledore, and gotten away with it? He was good; Tom had to give him that at the very least.
Harry leaned against the classroom wall. Slughorn apparently kept his classroom closed just like he did in future. Which meant he might end up forced to talk to the other Slytherins. It was difficult; he wasn't thirteen, he was an adult, long past inane conversation. He was out of practice, truth be told; he couldn't remember the last time he'd had a genuine, honest-to-Merlin decent conversation with someone. Sighing softly, he bent his leg and leant it against the wall, his bag at his feet on the floor.
His head turned swiftly when he heard the thudding of feet making their way around the corner; everyone was coming to the classroom now. Grunting in exasperation, he scooped his bag up again and sighed in relief when the door opened just before everyone gathered around the door. Sliding in, he swiftly made his way to the desk to his right furthest to the back where he could keep an eye on everyone.
"Ah, Hadrian, you have your potions kit with you, I assume?" Slughorn asked, turning everyone's attention onto him.
"Yes, Sir," Harry said, none of his irritation showing on his face.
"Good, good! Now, I'll show you where you get your ingredients, in just a moment," Slughorn promised, as he made his way back towards his own desk and flicked his wand. The potion they were to brew appeared in chalk on the board. Seeing the words come up he arched an eyebrow slightly impressed, Wit-Sharpening Potion, evidently they were more advanced here, although only by a year, two nearly if you thought about it. The potion was exceedingly easy, it required only a few ingredients, Scarab beetles, Ginger roots and of course Armadillo bile. He only had Armadillo bile, the other two things he'd have to get from the store cupboard. It would be quick to get the two ingredients, and Slughorn would be there…although not when he returned them, he would just have to make his move then if no other opportunity was presented to him.
He took out his cauldron and potion kit only, knowing he didn't need the scales for this particular potion. Besides, that's what all the others had out. Then he removed the Armadillo bile, and mortar and pestle, as well as his knife after making a show of looking around to 'see what the others were doing'. Nodding in satisfaction he put the rest to the side, pouring water from his wand into the cauldron ready for the next stage. It was a two period class, but it would only take one period for the potion to be complete, so he did idly wonder what they were going to be doing afterwards. A quiz?
"Mr. Peverell?" Slughorn commanded, over the now seated students, all set up for their potions class for the day.
Harry stood up and moved towards his teacher, and began to follow him through to the cupboard. Slughorn didn't follow him in, just gestured towards the shelves inside, "This is the public potions supply cupboard, it's where you get the ingredients you didn't bring to Hogwarts with you. The arrangement can be a little difficult at first, but the herbs and potion ingredients are in alphabetical order unless they're needed to be in a specific area or containment," Slughorn told him, adding "Retrieve your ingredients and rejoin us."
"Yes, Sir," Harry murmured moving into the cupboard, 'letting' the door close slightly as he quickly looked around, grinning in relief when he saw the arrangement was the same. Of course it would be; Snape had learned from Slughorn, after all. It took him all of two minutes to get empty vials and put in more than enough of the ingredients he needed before sliding them into his pocket. His heart was thumping a mile a minute as excitement thrummed through him. Breathing evenly, he picked up the two ingredients he needed for today's potion. Nobody would think anything about the time he'd taken, or be any the wiser since he wasn't used to this after all, he thought sardonically.
"Well, I must say you show extreme promise in Potions, Hadrian, ten points to Slytherin!" Slughorn said proudly, "Now bottle it up and put it on my desk and you'll be graded for it."
"Yes, Sir," Harry repeated monotonously. He had lost count of how many times he'd said that in a period of two hours. Slughorn had spoken for over half an hour before letting them brew anything. He had spoken about how to brew it, what it was used for, and how dangerous it was to use it repeatedly, and then cautioned anyone from doing so. He'd been mostly glancing at the Ravenclaws in the class as he said that. But Harry realized he wasn't going to be able to attend the rest of his morning classes; he felt weak. Perhaps going to Madam Chang would help, hopefully she'd give him a Pepper-Up potion, and then he could brew the potion he so desperately wanted to make. Maybe then his damn body would stop making him feel so weak. He didn't like it; he hadn't felt this way in many years. To be weak was to be vulnerable, and he would be damned if anyone saw him as such. Not here where weaknesses was picked apart like dead carcasses by buzzards.
Bottling his potion up, he scribbled his name on it, and began to put his things away. He wasn't in any rush to be shoved at while trying to get the bloody thing on the desk first ― he wasn't thirteen years old anymore, no matter what his body looked like. Once he was packed he put the vial on the table, and began to make his way out of the potions classroom behind everyone else… well, almost everyone else.
"It's interesting isn't it?" Tom Riddle said from beside him, smirking in a very cat that caught the canary way.
"What is?" Harry asked, blinking at the teen. He had a feeling he wouldn't like what come out of the teen's mouth next.
Tom hummed, before drawing closer, confident and powerful, and he damn well knew it. "They say you hadn't attended magical school before now, that you lived with a Muggle Aunt and Uncle," or squib he added mentally.
"What about it?" Harry enquired tersely.
"Were they right?" Tom queried, his intense gaze boring into Harry's; normally people couldn't meet his eyes, and they had to look away.
"Yes," Harry drawled somewhat cautiously.
"You are picking up things remarkably well for someone who supposedly only knew about magic for two days," Tom stated, narrowing his eyes. The boy wasn't the least bit intimidated, intriguing.
"Oh? How's that?" Harry asked indifferently.
"You know spells beyond the third-year curriculum, and I've just watched you brew a potion without even once looking at your book or the board for direction," Tom replied somewhat smugly.
"And?" Harry smirked deviously, letting Tom know he couldn't care less if he knew.
"You should have more care," Tom warned, beginning to feel respect for his fellow Slytherin. He hadn't denied or confirmed it verbally, but had a look on his face that said it all for him. "I am probably not the only one that noticed." Why was he even warning the boy? It was decidedly very unlike him, but he knew that he would never be able to blackmail him. The boy wasn't even the slightest bit worried by the fact he knew.
Harry cocked his head to the side, green eyes boring calculatingly into brown ―almost black― eyes. Nodding curtly he left without another word. He couldn't believe Tom Riddle had warned him. Oh, he knew it hadn't been all out of the goodness of his heart, he probably would have tried to blackmail him but saw that he didn't care. The fact he'd added the second part of his statement indicated that he had changed directions. Oh, if only he could read his mind and find out what he was thinking; he hadn't exactly wanted to be on Riddle's radar so soon, least of all not in this way. There was no way he would give up until he got answers.
He had a feeling things were about to get very interesting indeed. Sighing softly, he made his way to the hospital wing. He had no idea where to brew the potion, but he did contemplate doing it in the Slytherins' shower room. Nobody would be in there until after dinner tonight, at the very least.
Edited by Jake and Jordre thanks guys!
