Voldemort laughed out loud, a high, keening laugh. Thomas stared at the older man, frustrated, and threw down his wand. The curse had bounced off harmlessly.
"It was past time for a lesson, my dear boy, about effectively throwing Unforgivable curses. You must be focused on one thing to be able to use that curse effectively. You listed off about six things you hated before you tried to kill me. Had you focused your anger and hate on me rather than blind unfocused rage, who knows? I'd have more than a nosebleed, anyway."
Thomas clenched and unclenched his hands, willing his father dead for his treachery. He knew, and let him make a fool of himself.
"Good," Voldemort said, "We might be able to harness your power yet. We haven't much time, before we put you on the train. I have a lot to teach you in a short time, so let's not stop now."
*~*
Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Harry Potter sat at the edge of the lake on the Hogwarts grounds, idly throwing small stones into the edge of the water and talking about the state of affairs around the school. The Ministry had just issued official orders to Harry to stay at Hogwarts until the younger Voldemort could be identified and isolated, mostly for the protection of the new Headmistress and the school. There were likely to be other Aurors assigned to the school now that Voldemort had escaped; rogue Dementors were nothing to trifle with, much less the Crown Prince of Evil on the loose after ten years.
"Unbelievable that Voldemort was planning this for years. Here we thought the game was up, and it was still afoot. Amazing," Harry was saying.
"Well," Sirius said, "It probably was a little too good to be true. Too neat and tidy. We'd gotten complacent."
"Too true," Remus said, stretching out and changing the subject. "Hermione was called away to the ministry this morning, and she left James with his father rather than Dobby and El. Think we ought to poke our noses in on them and see what mischief they're up to?"
"Piss on it," Sirius said sulkily.
"She's not with him, Sirius," Harry said quietly, "but he is James' father. Even if the two of you ended up together, you'll have to deal with that fact."
"I really don't want to talk about it," Sirius growled. "I'm giving her space."
"Do you think that's a good idea?" Harry said. "That might work against you, you know. Hermione is a woman of action, and let's face it, she's had enough of the faceless angst to last a lifetime."
"Oh, Harry," Remus said, "I really think that in this case Sirius is doing the right thing. She has to work through this mess on her own."
"Whose side are you on?" Harry turned on Remus, flushed. "Everyone knows you and Snape are mates now. To think…"
"Oh yes, Harry," Remus said in a less-than-mild tone, "and romantic advice from you is so seasoned and spot-on."
"Yes, indeed, since you've had such a successful relationship that your woman went screaming off in the direction of Lucius Malfoy."
"At least I've had a relationship with a woman…"
"Oh, for the love of Merlin. It's not a pissing contest." Sirius patted Harry on the head, "but thank you for your support. I'm trying to be patient for the first time in my post-Azkaban life. It's not easy, but I have to do it. I need her to be free and clear of all external influences, or we'll just end up with painfully broken hearts. If she finds her way back to Snape again, so be it. I care about the woman and have no wish to see her hurt."
"Perhaps that's the first intelligent thing I've ever heard you say, Black," said a silky, amused voice from behind them.
"UNCLES!!!!" said a six-year old fireball, throwing himself on their fallen log and nearly knocking them over with hugs and adoration. "Daddy's just been showing me the places where he goes to pick berries and mushrooms. Look! Look!" James held up a garden gnome ensconced in a case, angrily shaking its little fist. "Daddy said I could let it out in Professor Longbottom's…"
"James, that was supposed to be our little secret," Snape said in a mock-whisper, putting a hand on the boy's head. Sirius gaped at Harry, open-mouthed. Was that merriment dancing in Severus Snape's eyes? A smile on his lips? Fifteen years, at least, had fallen off the man's face as he gazed at his son.
"I won't tell," whispered Sirius in James' ear. James hugged his uncles and ran towards the lake, a few pebbles in hand to skip in the clear water.
"Harry," Remus said, "I have something to show you up at the castle."
"Can't it wait?" Harry said.
"Don't be thick, Harry. Go on," Sirius said.
Snape sat on the log next to Sirius, watching his son skip stones in uneasy silence for a moment.
"Black, as much as it pains me to say this, I must. I made peace with Lupin years ago. I wish to call a truce, and make peace with you, as well."
Sirius's eyes flew wide. He'd expected smirky remarks, not an olive branch. "You'd forgive me my youthful indiscretion?"
"If you'll forgive mine."
"What about Hermione?"
Snape sighed. "The only person she controls is herself. As you so aptly put it when you dressed Potter down, it's not a pissing contest. I'll be this boy's father, body, mind, and soul, but you are very close to him and to his mother. Therefore, it is important to me to maintain a civil relationship with you."
"This has to be enormously difficult for you, Snape."
"You have no idea." It was said with only the barest hint of a sneer.
Sirius considered for a minute, and then held out his hand. They clasped briefly, as they had done after Voldemort had been resurrected after the Triwizard Tournament those many years before; but this time, the discomfort and loathing were gone.
Perhaps, Sirius mused, time really did heal all wounds.
"Just don't go all Gryffindor on me and force me to participate in your cheering-up sessions gone awry on too frequent of a basis. You know how awful my hangovers can be."
"Indeed," Sirius chuckled.
*~*
The week passed quickly, and before you could say Quidditch, the new school year was upon them. With trembling anticipation, the staff of Hogwarts awaited the new class of incoming students with a dread most had never felt.
Harry, Ron, Seamus Finnegan, and Padma Patil were providing security this year. Padma, only a first-year Auror after abandoning a promising career as a singer, could produce the second most splendid Patronus in England (after Harry's stag), so she seemed especially suited to join the team even with her relative inexperience. Ron couldn't be in the same room with her Patronus without turning green, however; it was the same size, shape, and ferocity of Aragog. However, since Harry was in charge of security detail, he nicked Ron for a bit of "old times' sake" from his regular duties.
"Miss Chang," Snape smirked as he took his usual seat beside her at the Head Table. "What, no dragonhide boots this year?"
"Sod off, Snape," she said curtly. Charlie Weasley suppressed a giggle, and said, "I know where you can get them cheap, you know."
"Don't take his side," Cho said. Harry walked by on his way to check security on the staff side of the Great Hall, and Cho greeted him, nearly falling over herself to chase him out of the room.
"Disgusting," Ron said, walking up to clap his older brother Charlie on the back. "Fifteen years ago Harry worshipped the ground she walked on and she wouldn't give him the bloody time of day. Now she's mooning over him."
Headmistress Granger walked in just then, holding the hand of a six-year-old boy whom she seated with a prefect at the Gryffindor table (much to Snape's chagrin) as she walked up to the Head Table and took her place. The students began filing in as she placed the Sorting Hat on the table. Every teacher's eye was on the first years, escorted in this year by Professor Lupin.
Snape passed a small piece of parchment to Hermione, who read it and nodded once at him. I'll need it, she thought, as she read it again.
Come down for a nightcap, the note read. I've gotten something out of that Riddle diary that might just interest you.
Eleanor and Sir Nicholas floated in and sat together at the Gryffindor table next to James. Remus led the first years up to the front, and began placing the Sorting Hat on each of their heads in turn.
What alias would the boy travel under? Which one of the seven boys was it?
Hermione had a photo of the first Tom Riddle, but none of the boys looked quite like the photo. That wasn't surprising. Even with a clone, environment was everything. How the boy was brought up could influence his appearance. The young Tom Riddle had light brown hair, flawless features, and a stout frame. There was a thin, tall boy with black hair, a short blond boy, several brown-haired but not particularly attractive boys, and one with shocking red hair that was George Weasley's oldest, George Junior.
There were only two boys remaining, and the boy called "Robbins, Errol" sat down. The hat perched on the tall, thin boy with the shocking black hair, multiple piercings and tattoos, and began to mutter.
"I've sorted you before, but how can that be? Time travel? Well, you were well sorted before, but I can't help but wonder if I placed you differently if you might turn out differently this time."
"Don't be daft, you ridiculous hat," the boy said. "You know damn well where I belong if you know who I really am."
The hat twitched peculiarly in a signal to the Headmistress that he had found their target. Hermione nodded to Harry and mouthed, "We have a winner."
"Are you so sure," the hat continued, "You have loads of foolish bravery and no particular desire to better yourself. You're different than the man from which you came; he was all about ambition and cunning. I see in you only fear and despair which you manifest in foolhardiness."
"Are they paying you to counsel, or sort, you fucking hat?"
"Ooookay, 'Errol', if you're sure. GRYFFINDOR!" said the hat, extra loudly to emphasize the absurdity of the statement.
Hermione and Severus had the good sense not to gape at the hat, but the rest of the adults in the hall couldn't help it. Remus looked at the hat and back at the Headmistress as if to say, "This hat is in dire need of a defibrillator and lidocaine. Stat." Remus recovered long enough to put the hat on the remaining boy's head, half-expecting it to put the first Weasley in Slytherin. The hat only chuckled, and whispered to George Weasley Jr., "Everyone thinks I'm mental, but I assure you I'm still in charge. You're a Gryffindor through-and-through like the rest of your family, and I daresay I see enough mischief to know exactly which branch of the family you're from. GRYFFINDOR!" the hat shouted as to drive home the point that it wasn't off its rack in the sorting of Errol Robbins, aka Thomas Riddle.
Thomas had remained standing at the foot of the Gryffindor table, conditioned to loathe them all by his flesh and blood. Watching them laugh and joke amongst each other, he looked longingly over at the Slytherin table. Father wasn't going to like this at all. Suddenly a hand clapped on his back. The redhead, George Weasley.
"Siddown, mate," George said, "and tell me about yourself."
At the Head Table, shock had turned to wonder as everyone watched the dark-haired, pale clone-of-Voldemort boy and the animated son-of-Mischief redhead lose themselves in conversation, quickly becoming absorbed in each other's company as they animatedly discussed something.
"Something very fishy is going on," Professor Black said in Professor Snape's direction, catching Hermione's eye.
"On the contrary," Headmistress Granger said out loud, startling everyone at the table, most of whom had not heard her voice in many years. "I think something is going our way, and Merlin knows how many times that might happen in the upcoming months. Professor Snape, if you would? I think your prefects can take it from here." They stood to go, pausing to collect their son for the walk to the dungeons.
A/N: Lots of good juicy stuff in the next chapter. Stay tuned! Sorry that the story disappeared of ff.net for a week. They never explained why but I upped the rating from PG-13 to R now that I've republished, so maybe that was the problem and they'll leave this alone. Thanks so much for your lovely reviews :) Keep them coming!