This is a fun, slightly filler chapter. Although there are quite a few significant clues scattered in (see if you can spot them ;))
The day was cold, the chill was brisk, and the sky was that muddy sort of grey that you only really notice in November. It was, Tom thought, the perfect day for enacting a plan.
He left the others still sitting in the Hall after lunch. Tom thought that his free period was a rather excellent opportunity that he should make full use of. And it just so happened that he had something hidden up his sleeve, waiting for a rainy day.
Tom intended to explore the possibility of a rather fascinating room.
The Seventh Floor corridor was mostly empty. Good. He would hate to have to scare away some unfortunate first years.
Tom took a sharp left, and let the corner of his lips upturn as he spied a familiar tapestry. He slipped a thin book from under his arm, and opened it at the third chapter. Tom had experienced countless difficulties finding this book, which supposedly held information garnered from various house elves, who were 'encouraged' to spill secrets through… less than legal means. He'd had to jump through hoop after hoop, and practically exhaust his list of contacts in the dark artefacts community which, thanks to Abraxas, were vast. Nevertheless, he had it now, and was ready to see if the information it provided was actually worth anything. Tom let his eyes slip down the page, focusing in on 'The Come and Go Room'.
The Come and Go Room; also known as the Room of Requirement; also known as That Weird Place On The Seventh Floor; is a phenomena located on the seventh floor, left corridor of Hogwarts School. Its exact location can be indicated by a small sun in the bottom right hand corner of a stone, marking the existence of its hidden doorway. Thus, the user just needs to pace backwards and forwards thrice, thinking upon the purpose that they wish the room to match. A door should then become visible; and beyond it, should be the room of the user's desires.
Tom raised an eyebrow and scanned the wall before him. A small sun, eh? Ah- there it was. Exactly where the book had predicted. Tom crouched, his robes billowing around his lithe frame, and ran a long finger along a sunbeam. He felt a thrum of excitement run through him- he would probably be the first person to discover this hidden gem of Hogwarts in decades, maybe even centuries. Tom would uncover more of Hogwarts than anyone before or after him, he was sure of it. And then this castle would truly be his home.
He straightened up, and took a deliberate step to the right. And then another, and another. And then back the other way, and the other again, all whilst thinking with cool focus 'I need a place to hide things'. At some point his eyes closed.
Finally he came to a stop. His fingers curled at his side, and an unconscious smile found its way onto his lips. Each Hogwarts secret he uncovered brought him closer to knowing the castle more intimately than even Dippett or Dumbledore.
His eyes flickered open.
Oh.
There was nothing there.
Tom stepped closer. Where the book claimed there would be a door, there was only the same empty space of wall; the sun carving casting faint, smug shadows on the grey stone.
No door.
No Come Room, and no Go Room.
Nada.
Tom pursed his lips. Perhaps if he tried again?
A second attempt yielded no more success than the first, and finally Tom had to admit defeat. He was, admittedly, more than faintly disappointed. A room that could grant your desires would have been incredibly useful and… well, special was a rather childish word.
In a sudden flash of anger, Tom sent a vicious blasting spell at the wall, teeth bared, and dust followed soon after. When it cleared away, the stone was unmarked. Tom hadn't managed to leave a scratch. He made a low sound of disgust in the back of his throat, and dropped the book to the floor. A flick of his wrist set the priceless text on fire.
Nothing in there could be trusted.
Inside the Room of Requirement, Harry glanced up. He could have sworn he'd heard a muffled bang from somewhere outside, but no one in this time knew about the room- so it was unlikely to have anything to do with Harry. No DA or Umbridge club to sneak around corridors- not yet, anyway. It was quite a sad thought actually.
Harry never thought he'd miss Colin Creevey.
He shrugged, and turned back to his Herbology homework.
To make an awful day worse, Dumbledore suspected Tom of something. Probably Daisy's murder. Of course he did.
Tom rolled his eyes and leaned back in his seat. It was a boringly predictable lesson. Dumbledore spoke in length about how to transfigure stone into weapons, whilst eyeing Tom with a subtle frown.
"I don't suppose anyone would know about the easiest transfiguration of a brick into a weapon?" Dumbledore asked, looking directly at Tom.
Tom adopted that innocent smile that he knew drove the Deputy Headmaster around the bend. "Well, I imagine that a brick would be an adequate weapon on its own, sir," he said drolly, and got a laugh for his troubles. He noticed Harrison in particular, hiding a grin behind his textbook.
"Yes," Dumbledore said patiently. "But if you had to transfigure the brick."
Tom sighed, and readied himself to deliver a perfect answer, as usual. "Transfiguration is easiest when there is as little change between the items as possible; so I imagine to sharpen it would be easiest, as there's no material change involved. If you really must alter the material, then possibly a metal sword; as stone and metal share similar properties and the structure of a sword is very simple."
Dumbledore's frown only got more penetrative. "Excellent answer," he replied, but in the tone that meant 'I'm onto you'.
Tom thought that Dumbledore could probably take a leaf out of Harrison's book, and think this thing through. Daisy's Meadowes' murder was hardly that kind of spectacle that Tom would create. He would- as Harrison said- go for something more elegant.
Thinking on the subject, it was curious how quickly Harrison had gotten to know him, after only having made Tom's acquaintance a few months ago. Perhaps it was a side-effect of being a Seer? Maybe Tom would commit a murder in the future, and Harrison had seen an example of his handiwork? Tom wondered if he'd been impressed.
No, Harrison didn't strike him as the type to be impressed by murder. Shame- it would have been easier.
Dumbledore took a step forward, extravagant robes rustling quite irritatingly. "Mr Riddle, what would be best to have on hand if you were attacked by an assailant?"
"A wand."
The Deputy Headmaster's cheeks twitched. "Yes, but what would you do with that wand?"
"Stop the assailant."
"And how would you do that?"
Tom had barely opened his mouth when-
"In terms of Transfiguration."
"Well," Tom said delicately, taking pleasure in maintaining his composure whilst the teacher lost his. "I would find an easily transfigurable item- something solid and loose would be best, like a chunk of rock or a brick, as the earlier question indicated. I would then transfigure it into a weapon like a knife, or I would sharpen the object; and use it against the attacker. I could also use human transfiguration to give myself weaponised attributes, like claws; transfigure the actual assailant, or even change the environment; but I gather from the lesson topic that object to object transfiguration is more relevant."
Someone in the class clapped, but quickly stopped. Tom thought it might have been Orion.
"Mr Riddle," Dumbledore began again, and Tom rolled his eyes heavily, not even bothering to disguise it. Whilst he never shied from an opportunity to flaunt his intelligence, this was getting boring.
Luckily, someone intervened.
"Sir," a Gryffindor girl said, petulantly. "Are you ever going to ask anything to someone other than Riddle?"
Tom didn't miss a beat, jumping into the conversation with a charming smile, and swivelling in his chair to make eye contact. "I really must insist you call me Tom."
"Tom, then," the girl corrected, blushing faintly.
"An excellent point, Miss Taylor," Dumbledore said, his smile less charming. "I don't suppose you would know the closest material to sand when transfiguring, would you?"
"No," the girl grumbled, slumping in her seat.
The point was made though, and for the rest of the lesson, Dumbledore took care to spread his questions around the class, although he kept an obvious eye on Tom. It was a blessing when the lesson ended.
"Dumbledore really has it out for you," Atticus commented as they all left the Transfigurations classroom, although he sounded altogether too pleased about it.
"I can't imagine why," Tom said breezily, his smile just a little more frozen than usual.
An answer came quickly. "It's because he thinks you murdered Daisy Meadowes."
"Yes, thank you, Harrison," Tom bit out, faux-cheerily.
"He does?" Orion gasped. "But that's awful! How could he think that? I mean, you're not overly nice, but you wouldn't kill anyone!"
"He thinks Riddle's a psychopath," Harrison said helpfully.
Orion gasped even louder, and Tom thought there might have been actual tears in his eyes.
"Hey Peters," Atticus said suddenly, turning to their fellow Slytherin. "Have you done the Charms homework?"
"Yeah," Harrison admitted, "But I think Riddle would be more useful if you want homework help…"
Tom preened subtly.
Atticus fixed Harrison with a dubious stare. "Tom doesn't take Charms."
Harrison shrugged. "Even so… He probably knows the course anyway."
"Yes," Atticus said slowly, "but Tom doesn't offer homework help. He thinks it 'encourages dependence' and 'limits creativity'."
Ah, Tom recalled fondly, the lies one came up with to get rid of clingy year mates.
"Oh," Harrison blinked. "He gave me help."
Tom remembered it well. He'd encountered Harrison in the library, frowning over the theory of an Alarte Ascendare spell. He had to admit it gave him a rush to help the boy, as Harrison did tend to edge over Tom in regard to the practical side of DA. He seemed to have a ridiculous amount of experience, and if Tom didn't know better, he'd say Harrison had been fighting for his life for most of his childhood. Helping Harrison seemed almost like winning.
(There was also the strange, almost greedy relish that curled in the pit of his stomach when Harrison stared up at him in complete concentration. It was bizarre.)
And so Tom had explained the theory behind the spell (it was all about focusing on the movement of the air around the person rather than the person, and there was an equation on the ratio of will. It was all rather simple stuff). Somehow the image of Harrison nodding and obediently scribbling down everything Tom said was addictive- almost bewitching, really- and he ended up offering to go outside and practice the practical side of it. And at the end, when Harrison sent a statue halfway across the courtyard and whooped in delight, he turned to Tom and said 'you're a really good teacher', with an odd tilt of his head. It had been strangely mournful, like some sort of opportunity had been lost- Tom could remember it well.
A strangled squawk drew Tom back to the present.
"He- he helped you?!" Atticus squeaked. "But he never helps anyone!"
"I remember you begging Tom to help with Astronomy last year. You cried, didn't you, Atty boy?" Rupert sniggered.
"OWLs were a stressful period in everyone's lives-" Atticus huffed. "But that's not the point! Tom never helps, even when you diplomatically request-"
"Whine like a baby," Rupert coughed.
"-Even when you diplomatically request his assistance."
Tom grew bored with the conversation. He had better places to be, and this conversation was doing nothing to distract him from the memory of Dumbledore's suspicious smiles. He shut them down with a sharp, "Perhaps Harrison's just special," and an "I'm sure he's more than capable helping with your homework Avery, even if you yourself are struggling."
Atticus could do little but splutter in response.
December drew upon them quickly, and the prospect of Christmas crept near. Soon enough, Orion was waking Harry from a nightmare in which Luna and Hermione wrapped the Invisibility cloak around him tightly and dropped Harry into deep grave, whilst Ron read his last rites in a sombre tone at the graveside.
"It's snowing!" Orion hissed excitedly.
"You're an actual five year old," Harry mumbled into the warmth of his pillow.
Orion wasn't wrong though, and the effort of clambering out of bed and stumbling to the window proved worth it in the end. Overnight, Hogwarts had been covered by a crisp, clean duvet of white, and even sleep-clouded Harry was eager to go outside and leave his mark. There was nothing quite like being the first one to make a footprint in thick, new snow.
"I love snow!" Orion announced. "Lucretia and I used to make the most wonderful snow angels. Meissa tried to copy us, but she couldn't walk very well then. Lucretia used to push her over." Orion smiled.
"Lucretia sounds dangerous," Harry raised an eyebrow, yawning.
"Oh, she is. Vicious, really. Mother wants to get her into a marriage as soon as possible- she thinks Cretia will scare off potential husbands- but Lucretia's having none of it. I think she's the only one of us who ever really stood up to Mother. And besides, there are always people willing to marry the first-born daughter of the Black family, even if Lucretia can't inherit. She's valuable."
Harry couldn't deny that it was vaguely disturbing to hear Orion discussing his sister like a piece of meat. Product of the time, he told himself. Besides, it was obvious that Orion loved his family deeply.
"Is Meissa the same? So… dangerous?" Harry asked, shrugging on a jumper.
"Oh no," Orion assured him. "Meissa's quite… well, I wouldn't like to say disconnected… but yes, I suppose: disconnected. She's an utter delight, and really quite sensible, but very removed? I mean, she's a child, so it's not like she's emotionless, but… she's not like Lucretia, no. I think it comes from being alone with Mother and Rigel. They're quite high-pressure. She plays a mean game of snap, though. She wrote to me that she was bringing her cards to the next hospital sleepover with Rigel."
Harry laughed. "I bet Rigel loves those."
"I don't think he's ever had as many carefully-calculated makeovers in his life."
The two boys chuckled.
"Can you both shut it? Some of us need the weekend for sleep," someone in the dormitory groaned- Harry suspected it was Rupert.
"But why would you sleep when it's snowing outside?" Orion asked brightly, bouncing slightly. Distraction was over, and he was back on track.
"'Cause I can't run on hope alone?" Rupert muttered, chucking a pillow vaguely in Orion's direction.
"And Binns is determined to kill us with homework," Atticus added now in a muffled voice; little more than a shifting lump hidden under his duvet.
Lestrange let out a weird sort of hiss that probably also equated to 'shut up'.
But Orion's enthusiasm wouldn't be quelled. "But the sun is shining-"
"Flickering," Rupert mumbled.
"The birds are singing-"
"Screaming."
"The day is beautiful-"
"Crap."
"And the world is ready for the taking!"
Rupert keened pitifully.
"Oh, come on!" Orion wheedled. "Let's have a snowball fight. We haven't had one of those since first year!."
"And with good reason," Riddle said smoothly, emerging from the bathroom, drying his hair with a towel. God, he even looked good in the morning, it was unfair really. And there was just that one droplet of water- Harry stopped that thought before it could run any further. "The last snowball fight ended in tears," Riddle continued, directing his gaze pointedly towards Atticus.
Harry was sure that, if it hadn't been Riddle- who the Slytherin boys were sizeably scared of, even in the mornings- who said it, Atticus would have replied with a 'fuck you'.
Instead, Atticus bit his tongue and replied with an impressively controlled: "Snowball fights are common."
"As are public demotions at Ministry balls, but your father would know all about that," Rupert said quickly, sitting up and behaving suddenly more lively. "On second thought, a snowball fight sounds great."
And that was all it took. Apparently the prospect of Atticus in tears was all Rupert needed to hear before he agreed to Orion's proposal, and once Rupert and Orion were united in a goal, there was little that could stop them. Even Riddle agreed to participate once Harry asked him personally, and so by the time lunchtime rolled around, there was an interyear Slytherin snowball match all set up.
It was really quite impressive actually.
They met in the courtyard; little first years buzzing around the area, whilst seventh years looked vaguely more solemn and loomed in the corner. Harry caught Lestrange glaring at him with an expression of bloodlust on his face, but that was pretty normal.
"All right!" Orion yelled to the gathered Slytherins, who surged forwards to cluster around him at the foot of a frozen-over fountain. "This is your standard snowball battle. Teams and alliances allowed, but last one standing-slash-without frostbite wins!"
"What's the prize?!" a voice yelled.
"The self-actualisation of knowing you won?!" Orion offered cheerfully.
Loud grumbles followed.
"And I'll throw in a hundred galleons!"
There was much more enthusiasm in response to that. Even Harry felt a stab of interest. A hundred galleons was a lot. That was… Harry mentally did the maths. That was around five hundred pounds! That was the kind of money that Aunt Petunia would buy a new sofa with, and then boast to the neighbours about it loudly.
Amidst all the excitement, Harry's ears tuned in to the familiar voice behind him. Huh. That sounded like Walburga.
"Of course I won't take part in a ridiculous snowball fight, for heaven's sake. I have my standards! I am not getting both cold and wet in one day!"
Yes, that was definitely Walburga. Which meant that Druella should be close by…
"Oh cheer up, 'Burga! It'll be fun. And we could get a hundred galleons."
There she was.
"Or," Walburga said loftily, "I could walk up to my room right now, and find more money than that in the pocket of my robe."
Harry thought was bizarre to hear over five hundred pounds discussed in such a blasé manner. Yes, technically Harry used to have a huge trust fund, and was probably moderately rich. But before that he was practically a slave for the Dursleys, and now, stranded in the 1940s, Harry had access to nothing more than the pennies he could scrape in from various odd jobs, and the Hogwarts orphan fund.
Huh. Thinking about it, Harry could really do with that hundred galleons.
"Peters."
Harry startled at being addressed. He spun around abruptly, and came face to face with Druella, who wore an amused smirk. She had apparently enjoyed his surprise.
Both of the girls were wrapped up warm; Walburga in a pea green coat and pink scarf, looking very put-together with her hair twisted back into some kind of French twist. (Harry remembered that Hermione had tried that once, before deciding it wouldn't work with curly hair. There had been anger.) Druella was considerably less elegant, her hair still in a wild mess, spilling out from a thick Slytherin scarf, and her eyes alight with excitement. Her coat looked heavier and more waterproof than Walburga.
"You can call me Harry, y'know. Or Harrison, if you want."
"Harry then," Druella said, obviously humouring him. "More to the point: are you taking part in the snowball fight? Some people," she looked meaningfully at Walburga, "aren't very enthusiastic."
"Er, yeah. I think so. I mean, Orion would probably kill me if I didn't." Harry shrugged.
"He wouldn't kill you," Druella said slowly. "He'd probably just cry. A lot. Or scream, maybe."
"Orion's a screamer," Walburga said wisely.
Druella snorted.
"Ella!" Walburga gasped in outrage, apparently just realising what she'd said, and how it could have been interpreted. "There's no need to be crude."
Druella shrugged innocently. "It's not like it's unfounded…"
"We kissed once!"
Harry's eyes shot wide open, and his jaw dropped. He'd thought Orion's crush was a remnant of childhood soppiness but… "You kissed?" he wheezed.
"It was Christmas and there was mistletoe," Walburga dismissed. And then, more defensively: "All cousins kiss at some point."
Harry wasn't sure about much, but he was sure that he and Dudley had never kissed.
"No, 'Burga, all Black cousins kiss at some point," Druella correctly airily.
"Being cousins is nothing," Walburga said flippantly. "I have an aunt who had an affair with her brother, and then married a prince."
Druella grinned. "I love your family. They're so much more interesting than mine."
"I know," Walburga bumped her shoulder against Druella's. "I'm still not taking part in the snowball fight."
"Oh, come on-!"
There was a hand on Harry's shoulder, and a low voice on his left. "Are we all ready for battle?"
Harry jumped for the second time that day, as Tom Riddle's lips practically touched his ear. Harry yelped: "Merlin, Riddle, what are you doing?" and leapt away, heart hammering.
Riddle blinked innocently, "I was just asking if you're ready for the snowball fight. No need to overreact." But the smirk pulling on the corner of his lips betrayed him- he knew exactly why Harry had protested
Druella's eyebrows shot up. "Tom, you're playing?! You've never joined us for one of our 'insignificant, little game' before."
She seemed to be quoting Riddle, which didn't surprise Harry at all.
"How could I say no when Harrison requested me personally?" Riddle asked suavely, and whilst Harry's cheeks flushed a little red, he mostly just rolled his eyes.
"That was all it took?" Walburga asked, oddly excited. "My, how curious."
"Not really," Harry shrugged, not seeing the point. As much as he hated to admit it, Riddle usually responded to politeness.
"STARTING IN FIVE MINUTES!" Orion's amplified voice echoed around the courtyard, and Harry saw several enthused first years jumping up and down. They looked a bit like squirrels.
"Time for me to go back to the castle then," Walburga said, smoothing down her skirts and drawing her coat closer to herself.
Druella pouted. "Really? You won't stay? Even Riddle's taking part!"
"Riddle's not a lady," Walburga said primly, "I'm far too sensible to throw snow at people for 'fun'." And then she turned on her heel and began striding away.
"Being a lady doesn't stop you from having fun! Don't let your gender define you!" Druella called after her, but Walburga was already back inside the warm castle. Druella mumbled something like, "Pathetic… stereotype… roles," before groaning in disappointment, and leaving to find her other friends, with little more than a "see you later".
And that left Harry and Riddle alone.
"Maybe Walburga had the right idea," Harry said, shivering. It was bitterly cold, and the soles of his poor quality shoes weren't doing much.
"You can do magic," Riddle reminded him sardonically, but waved his wand nonetheless. Harry felt a warming spell settle around his shoulders, heavy and thick around him like a cloak of heat.
"Oh. Thanks," Harry said, taken aback by the gesture.
"…It's snowing again." Riddle said, softly.
And indeed it was. The sky had opened up once more, and little crystals of ice were floating down, dancing on the air. The sky was sparkling like the candles in the Great Hall, and Harry opened his mouth to catch a flake on his tongue. The chill exploded on his taste-buds, and he licked his chapped lips. When Harry glanced over at Riddle, he had to laugh. The Slytherin prefect's nose was a nice, 'subtle' red, and his dark hair was decorated tiny snowflakes, crusting at the tip.
Riddle sniffed. "I'm not sure why you're laughing, you look just as ridiculous."
"Sure I do," Harry grinned. "So why are you over here, Riddle, chatting with me? You're not one for small talk if it doesn't benefit you."
Riddle rolled his eyes. "It is my belief that we would have the best chance of success if we worked together."
"I thought it was just an 'insignificant little game'," Harry quoted drily.
"Yes, but now it's an insignificant little game that I intend to win."
"You know there can only be one winner, right? And I know you're not the type to split a prize."
Riddle's eyes flared with brief interest, but Harry didn't know why. He covered it with a beatific smile soon enough. "We shall just have to make sure we're the last ones left, and then we'll see who wins from there. Although, I doubt it'll be much of a contest…"
"Oh, yeah?" Harry smirked. "Try me."
Harry and Riddle actually made a pretty excellent team. Riddle was incredibly tactically-minded- he would come up with elaborate yet effective plans to take down stubborn opponents. It was their concentrated, shielded pelting that finally caused Druella to give up. She limped away, looking bedraggled and dripping but thoroughly content. Harry, if he did say so himself, brought a raw instinct and recklessness that Riddle didn't have. He went for the risky shots and was usually successful, and he lost count of the amount of times he targeted someone just before he or Riddle was hit.
It may have just been a snowball fight, but Harry thought it was probably the most fun he'd had in ages.
"So who actually won?" Harry asked Orion curiously. After the snowball fight, they had retreated to the Common room, hoping to warm up, and now most of the House was huddled around the fireplace. It was bizarrely friendly (although there was the usual posturing and intimidation attempts- it was Slytherin, after all).
"Mariana Wheelan. After you and Tom took each other out-" (Harry and Riddle had gotten bored of teamwork, and decided it was much more of a challenge if they fought each other) "-there wasn't much left for her to do. She just had to distract Rupert long enough to dump snow down the back of his collar. And of course, Rupert being Rupert, that wasn't difficult."
"He didn't seem that disappointed though."
"No, after Atticus gave up, Rupert sort of lost interest." Orion pouted.
"So what are you doing now?" Harry asked, peering over Orion's shoulder. He appeared to be engaged in some sort of Ancient Runes project, and it all looked like the kind complex theory that made Hermione swoon, and Harry's head spin. "Homework?"
"Oh no, this is just for fun."
"…Fun?"
"I'm looking at my muggle-repellent charm," Orion replied casually. "The wards department sent it back. Apparently it's not stable enough to cover large areas, which obviously makes it a bit useless. I'm looking for a compatible stabilising unit, to use for the ward stones. I'm thinking some kind of wood, to ground it. Maybe cherry?"
"Would you find that in the supply cupboard?" Harry asked doubtfully.
"No, I don't think so. We don't use a lot of bark in potions, do we?" Orion mused. He didn't let it bring him down for long. "I suppose we'll just have to go into the Forbidden Forrest then!"
Harry blinked. "What, now?"
"Of course! They said if I send the improved charm back within 24 hours, it'll be top priority!" Orion looked delighted, but even Harry could see that it was a vaguely-disguised corporate manipulation. "I need to get this ward completed as soon as possible, and I can't do that if I don't have cherry wood."
Oh dear, Orion looked determined. It was very hard to dissuade Orion when he was got an idea into his head (Harry, if he was really honest with himself, was probably just as bull-headed), however Harry was going to try. The last time he'd wandered into the Forbidden Forest desperately hoping for the best, it hadn't gone well (Acromantulas, centaurs, Umbridge screaming in the distance).
"It's dark…" Harry said persuasively. Merlin, when had he become the sensible one, trying to steer others away from recklessness? Time travel did weird things to you. "Maybe we should wait, mate. At least until there's light."
"We have light! Lumos!" Orion said in reply, holding his wand up, the tip glowing a bright white.
Harry looked uncertain.
Orion sighed dramatically. "Look, Harry, I don't expect you to come with me." Despite that, Orion's eyes widened pleadingly, and Harry was reminded strongly of kittens.
"Don't do the eye thing- no, don't." Harry sighed, but felt a familiar thrill of excitement and daring run through him, regardless. "Okay, fine. I'm in."
Orion beamed.
"You really should have been in Hufflepuff, you know. Or Gryffindor," Harry told him.
"Maybe," Orion admitted, "but Mother would have crucioed me. Plus," he said defensively, "I persuaded the Hat to put me in Slytherin. That takes manipulation, right?"
It didn't take that much manipulation- Harry himself had done it. Although, looking at where he was now… perhaps what Orion said had a bit of truth to it.
Just a bit.
The Forbidden Forest was so, so familiar. It was what Harry had been considering all those nights ago, when Riddle found him at the edge of the forest.
The castle- now that was different; it looked different, it had been shifted and renovated and altered over the years, so much so that Harry sometimes found himself getting lost all over again. But the forest, despite the fact that it was probably even more changed than the castle- well, the forest looked exactly the same as it would in fifty years' time. (Except for the absence of the Whomping Willow, of course, but Harry could honestly say that it wasn't missed.)
The trees were just as twisted and clawed as ever, reaching desperate hands into the sky and spreading their fingers wide. The branches grasped wildly at moonlight, thrusting sharp shoots at beams of fresh, white light, which was turned greenish-grey under the canopies.
"So, do you know where the cherry wood is?" Harry asked Orion, as they walked along something that was either a path or a long shadow- it was difficult to tell.
"No!" Orion's answer was remarkably cheerful.
"…Do you know what it looks like?"
"Sort of?"
"…Do you have any idea what we're doing?"
"Not particularly!"
Harry groaned. A shiver ran down his spine, and he longed for the comforting, scratchy warmth of Mrs Weasley's scarves, knitted in Gryffindor red and gold. "So we're just wandering around the forest until we find something?"
"Pretty much. Isn't this exciting!?"
Harry groaned again, even louder this time. Was this how Ron and Hermione had felt when he'd dragged them into one of his improvised adventures?
"Oh cheer up!" Orion said, bumping his shoulder against Harry's. "It'll be fine! The Forbidden forest isn't that big…"
Harry stared at his friend in horror. "You've never been in the forest before, have you?"
"No," Orion admitted airily, bouncing slightly.
"At least it's a weekend," Harry reflected. They had the whole night to search, and he wouldn't have to get up in the morning. Harry was bad enough at waking up as it was.
Orion grinned. "Come on- cheer up! I've always wanted to have a proper adventure! And if I can get a ward approved before I've left school, I'll have an amazing application to the Guild of Wardmasters."
Harry still thought it sounded vaguely like something out of those roleplay games Dudley swore he didn't play, but this was the wizarding world, after all. He probably shouldn't judge. "Are you still doing your frogs first?"
"TOADS," Orion corrected brightly. "And of course I am! Do you still want to be an Unspeakable?"
"Yeah," Harry said determinedly, thinking of the knowledge hidden behind those spinning doors. He'd get home in no time. "Yeah, I do."
"Well, you'd better start thinking about what to do in addition to Magical Theory TOADS," Orion advised. "It's only a year away."
"A year and quite a bit," Harry said dubiously. "I think I've got a- WOAH!"
Harry fell. And for once, it was not a dementor, or a troll, or a Death Eater that Harry had met his match in. No. It was tree root.
The night sky spun queasily above him.
"Are you okay? That looked like it might have hurt," Orion fussed, leaning over Harry and flapping his hands concernedly. Honestly, it was like Mrs Weasley was in the forest with them.
"I'm fine," Harry winced, pressing a hand to his tender head. "I just smacked my forehead on a rock."
"I think it's bleeding," Orion fretted. "Don't move too much! I would fix it, but I'm awful at healing spells- I never had to learn them, see, and Mother either didn't want us to use them, or she could do it for us. And Tom's the one who-"
"Stop worrying," Harry said gently, shutting his eyes tightly against a sharp headache. "Ow."
"We should probably get you back to the castle-"
"No, don't be ridiculous. We've come all the way out here to find cherry wood- we are gonna find cherry wood," Harry said firmly. "Now, if you would just, er, help me up…yeah, that should do it…"
As Orion rushed to help Harry get to his feet, something metal clattered away from them in the darkness, striking something wooden.
They froze.
"I think I kicked something," Harry said slowly. Orion nodded, and together they crept forwards, nearing the dark silhouette of a tree trunk. Harry went to crouch down, but Orion stopped him, gesturing to Harry's head, and instead bend down himself. Orion picked up a sharp, glinting object and held it up to the moonlight, angling it left and right.
"What is it?" Orion asked curiously, pressing his finger against the pointy end.
"It's an arrowhead," Harry murmured curiously, squinting painfully. "Must've been what I hit my head on."
"But what in the name of Merlin is an arrowhead doing in the Forbidden Forest? No wizard uses arrows- only muggles use that kind of brutality."
Harry was too distracted to reprimand Orion- finally, his addled brain caught up. "…Oh shit."
"What?"
"Well, I, er," Harry scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. "I may have forgotten to mention, but… a herd of centaurs live in this forest. And they're, uh, pretty territorial."
"Oh, I suppose we should avoid them then," Orion said brightly.
"Might be easier said than done," Harry pointed out sensibly, but agreed nonetheless.
The two made the decision to carry on eastwards, because Harry 'thought there probably weren't that many centaurs in the east bit of the forest, I meant I could wrong, but I thought they were west-ish last time, actually maybe we should just go north for safe measure'. If Harry was honest, he hadn't really been concentrating on directions the last time he went into the forest. He had been too busy focussing on Sirius' impending doom.
No, don't go there.
Harry and Orion kept moving. The wind screamed through the trees around them, and Harry found himself glancing over his shoulder, sure he wasn't imagining the sound of hooves in the background.
He wasn't sure how much time passed before they came to a glade clear of trees, where the moonlight bathed it in swathes of milky light; dappling the grass with speckles of sparkling frost.
A proper, healthy unicorn, not like Harry's first year, stood in the centre of the glade, tossing its mane and stamping the ground. It seemed to be made out of the same moonlight that flooded the grass; silky smooth and intangible to the touch. Orion stepped closer, shuffling into the open and raising an awed palm. The unicorn lowered its head to allow the contact, letting Orion run his fingers through its long mane.
"It's beautiful," Harry breathed softly, his breath crystallising on the breeze.
"This is amazing," Orion breathed. "They barely ever let people come near them."
Harry gazed up at the animal, pretty sure there were actual stars in his eyes. It was so pretty.
"Come and pet it," Orion said encouragingly, beckoning Harry over.
"Don't they really hate men?" Harry asked dubiously, staying where he was, despite his urge to move closer and hug it.
"That's mostly the females of the species," Orion dismissed. "This one's a boy, aren't you? Yes, you are; yes, you are!" he cooed, and the unicorn neighed in response.
Harry took an uncertain step forwards, frost-coated leaves cracking beneath the soles of his shoes. Hagrid had taught him, if nothing else, to be cautious around creatures, especially if they were supposedly 'harmless'. However, once Harry got within touching distance of the unicorn's white flank, he couldn't stop himself from stretching out a hand to stoke it. As his fingers made contact, the animal moved.
Now, Harry was face to face with a curious unicorn.
He froze.
Somewhere outside his peripheral vision, he heard Orion go: "Aww, he likes you!"
The unicorn moved closer and closer, barely blinking. Harry was tense: too nervous to do so much as scratch his nose. Slowly, gradually, the unicorn leant down over him, and swiped a wet tongue across his forehead. From the sting, Harry realised that it had licked his forehead wound.
Harry desperately tried to remember if unicorns drank blood.
His shock made him blink, and he accidentally met the unicorn's eye.
It was like being ripped apart, he thought, but it didn't hurt. It was like being torn open and every piece of him searched and scanned for corruption. The only thing Harry could think was 'please don't see the fantasy about Riddle, please don't see the fantasy about Riddle…'
Suddenly, there was a bright, hot pain in his chest, so similar to when he'd worn the pendant, but Harry still couldn't break the unicorn's gaze. He shrieked as the pain intensified, and the unicorn's eyes flashed.
Harry hadn't thought unicorns could scream, but he'd been wrong.
He fell backwards as the unicorn reared up on its hind legs, kicking sharply at the space where Harry's head had been just seconds before.
Harry heard Orion yell, "Merlin!" and then his hands fastened under Harry's armpits, and he was tugging Harry away. Harry helped, scrambling on his back away from the furious animal.
"What did you do?" Orion asked urgently.
"I dunno! It is normal for unicorns to do this?" Harry replied in panic, shielding his face from a spray of dirt as the unicorn tore at the ground with huge hooves and- Harry had never considered this before- but that horn looked really sharp. Harry could just envision it sliding between his ribs and out the other side, glistening with blood.
"Of course they don't!" Orion hissed. "Unicorns never attack anyone!"
"Well, don't I feel special?" Harry said sarcastically as Orion pulled him to his feet. "Shit. What so we do?"
"We can't run," Orion said. "It would catch us easily. And there's no point firing spells at it: it takes a powerful wizard to bring down a unicorn, and some really dark magic that I haven't learnt yet. So I suppose-" Orion gasped and they both scooted back as the unicorn surged forwards, "-that we should hide."
"Hide where?" Harry asked, looking around wildly. "It'll see us wherever we go! Is there an invisibility spell or something?"
"Unicorns sense magic."
"But if we run and then immediately find shelter, we could confuse it?" Harry suggested.
But as the suggestion was made, an arrow came whistling through the air and embedded into a tree. Harry and Orion jerked, holding onto one another as the sound of a second pair of hooves came closer, and then a third pair, and then there were so many hooves that Harry couldn't keep count.
A herd of centaurs burst into the clearing.
The unicorn let out an uncertain bray, the fevered light clearing from its eyes, and trotted backwards. The centaurs galloped forwards, forming a tight circle around the skittish animal. Their bows were raised, but no more arrows were fired. The centaurs simply surrounded the unicorn, keeping in a tight formation.
One of the centaurs: with dark skin, almost black, trotted forwards. He tossed his long hair (which was actually quite beautiful, Harry noticed), and spoke in a low gravelly tone. "You must leave."
Orion didn't get the memo, gesturing earnestly. "That was amazing! The way you just galloped in- with the arrow- and then the circle- and how did you know we needed help?! Why did you help us?! Why did the unicorn attack, they're not supposed to do that?! And can you tell me what conditioner you use, your hair looks so soft-!"
"Your existence is wrong. You do not belong." The centaur cut Orion off, but stared directly at Harry. "The unicorn has sensed that. A unicorn committing an act of murder would have stained this forest," the centaur said slowly. "We do not care for humans, and have no such objections. Leave."
Harry leant in to whisper. "Orion, I think we should go now."
Orion, predictably, didn't listen. "Just checking: has anyone got any cherry wood? Because I really need it for this ward I'm building- it's actually a muggle repellent ward, and the ministry has expressed quite a strong interest- but I don't know what a cherry tree looks like, you see-"
"You don't know what a cherry tree looks like?" one of the younger-looking centaurs jeered.
"Not really." Orion said honestly. "Do you?"
"Of course I do!" the young centaur snorted. And then he pointed at one of the nearby trees that looked mostly the same as the others. "It's obvious."
"Thanks!" Orion said eagerly. "If we could just take some of that-"
"SILENCE!" The older, dark centaur roared, and it seemed like the entire Forbidden Forest fell mute. The younger centaur startled and scrambled backwards, hiding behind another of the herd.
"You will leave. You will not touch the trees, and you will leave. Or I will kill you." And then the dark centaur raised its bow and pointed it towards Orion's chest.
Harry felt Orion tense. So now he got it.
"Okay," Orion said softly, and Harry could hear how disappointed he was. He turned to Harry, and Harry saw the downcast glisten to his eyes. "We'll go."
Oh hell. Harry would regret this.
He darted forwards, sliding his wand out and firing a slicing charm at the cherry tree. He ducked as an arrow cut through the air above him, and keep running. Harry grabbed the fallen branch and kept moving, turning back and tugging Orion by the arm.
"Run!" he ordered, and it didn't take long for Orion to work through the shock and start moving his legs. And then they were sprinting through the forest, back towards the castle, and safety.
"YOU ARE BROKEN, HUMAN!" Harry heard the centaur yell, but ignored him. "YOU WILL SUFFER!"
"What's he talking about?" Orion asked breathlessly.
"Dunno, don't currently care. Hope this is enough wood." Harry panted, his feet pounding over the snow-covered forest floor. "Wasn't sure how much you'd need."
Orion ducked to narrowly avoid a low hanging vine. "Well, ideally I could do with a bit more…"
"Oh, shut it," Harry rolled his eyes, skidding over a patch of frost.
"Are they still behind us?" Orion asked.
An arrow thudded in the trunk of a tree just ahead of them.
"Well, that answers that question."
Somehow, Harry and Orion got back to the castle. Harry couldn't quite remember how- he thought they might have hidden in a hollow at some point. All he knew was that he was cold, damp, and thoroughly satisfied. He'd forgotten how great it felt to be utterly stupid.
They got back to the castle very late, and very giddy.
"Shit!" Harry hissed, ducking back around a corner.
"What?" Orion asked, trying to poke his head around to see what was going on. Harry pulled him back.
"It's Riddle on patrol."
"But he's right outside the Slytherin common room entrance," Orion pouted. "How are we supposed to get in?"
Harry could see the cogs in Orion's head turning.
"No," Harry said immediately. "We are not sleeping in the library, or a classroom, or wherever else you can think of that will be cold or uncomfortable. We'll just tell Riddle that we need to get in, and accept the punishment."
"But Tom's scary," Orion whined, long hair falling into puppy-dog eyes.
"Maybe we can stun him," Harry considered, tilting his head to one side.
"Stun who?"
Orion and Harry yelped, jumping around to find Riddle standing behind them, Prefect badge emblazoned proudly, wearing an unimpressed expression.
"I hope you're not discussing attacking a Prefect," Riddle continued. He gave a toothy grin. "You may just have to try your luck."
Harry was so tempted. His fingers twitched towards his pocket, where he knew his wand rested, but Harry was also tired and more than slightly delirious from running through a forest at night, chased by angry centaurs- so he resisted. "Actually Riddle," Harry said with a saccharine smile, "I think getting up the stairs to the dormitory might be more of a challenge, so if you could just…?"
"Uh uh, not so fast," Riddle held up an elegant hand to stop them, and Harry had never wanted to stomp on something so badly. "I still have a few questions."
"Can we make this quick? It's late and I'm tired."
"Precisely." Riddle gained a smug smile. "What draws you out at these late hours?"
"Charms practise," Harry said confidently.
Riddle raised a thin eyebrow. "Charms practise?"
"Yeah. Orion said he'd help me with charms revision."
"Any particular spell?"
"All of them."
"Let's say, for one absurd moment, that I believed you," Riddle suggested. It was very clear that he did not believe them. "I am still curious about one, last thing."
"What?" Harry groaned, wondering what petty grievance Riddle could have now.
"Why on earth are you dragging a branch in with you?"
As if in slow motion, Harry looked down at his left hand and- sure enough- he was still holding the huge cherry tree branch in one hand. Oh. "For something to practise on," he blurted out quickly.
"And you're bringing it back to the dormitories because…?"
"It's my favourite… y'know… stick," Harry said weakly. "And I didn't want to… loose it, or something."
"What a well-constructed story," Riddle told them condescendingly. "I suppose you should get to bed now. You must be tired from all the… charms practise."
Harry nodded stiffly- he still wanted to punch Riddle, perhaps it was the exhaustion speaking, or just his common sense for once- and grabbed Orion's arm. But before he could get more than a few steps down the corridor-
"Harrison? Orion?" Riddle called out.
The boys turned to him. Harry was sure that he looked on the verge of murder.
"Thirty points from Slytherin. Each."
"Each?!" Harry repeated disbelievingly. "That's… that's…"
"Sixty points," Riddle finished smugly. "Wonderful arithmetic skills. Such a shame you didn't take Arithmancy."
Harry snarled at the irritating Slytherin Prefect, feeling a heated urge to do something curled within his stomach. "This is just because I got you out in the snowball fight."
"I think you'll find that I defeated you- and I have no idea what you're talking about," Riddle adopted a sweet, infuriating little smile, and waved to them. "Good night."
"Prick," Harry muttered- there was absolutely no fondness to his tone, none at all- and then he continued up to bed, dragging the cherry branch with him.
He did, however, stop on the stairs after spotting a handkerchief left lying on the ground. It should have been a light blue, but was stained with drops of red. Perhaps someone had a nose bleed? Harry peered down at the monogrammed letters in the corner, which spelt out something like e.e.l in overly-looped stitch.
Huh, Harry shrugged. Weird. And then he continued on his way.
Check out my tumblr for (maybe) updates, comments, and previews. #spon.
The next chapter should be out just after Christmas, and will include all that good Christmas holiday stuff. It's a VERY major chapter, and promises to be lengthy ;) So look forwards to that!
