"Yes, Tom?" Dumbledore asked, his tone kind but wary as he looked over the young man in front of him.
Harry clenched his fists and tried not to glare. It was Tom Riddle. It had completely slipped Harry's mind that Riddle had been in school in the forties. The boy looked exactly as he had when his memory came out of the diary back in second year. Harry couldn't help but wonder if this was before or after he let the Basilisk loose.
"Professor, I wanted to ask you," Riddle spoke, his voice silky and polite. He held himself with much the same politeness, back straight and looking at Dumbledore, though not quite in the eyes. "I am currently tutoring Elizabeth Beilby, and I wanted to know exactly what you're covering with the third years at the moment. Miss Beilby wasn't quite clear."
Dumbledore nodded and hummed, "I believe the third years are now learning how to turn a tortoise into a tea pot. I remember Elizabeth having a rather difficult time with the theory."
Tom nodded, "Thank you, professor." He lingered a moment, looking at Harry, who stared back confidently. The taller boy's cold eyes flitted over Harry's form and his mouth formed a curious smirk.
"Will that be all, Tom?" Dumbledore spoke, almost impatiently.
Tom looked away from Harry and back to Dumbledore, flashing a charming smile, "Yes. Thank you again, professor. Have a delightful evening," he said before turning and striding calmly down the corridor and disappearing behind a corner.
"Are you alright, Jamie?" Dumbledore asked warmly, curiosity in his eyes.
Harry forgot that the professor was talking to him for a moment, but then he nodded, "I'm fine, sir," he said, but his fists were still clenched.
Dumbledore looked at him for moment but didn't push. Instead they continued on their way.
They stopped short of the transfiguration classroom. Instead, Albus unlocked the door to the office next door and led Harry inside. The decoration was similar to that of when the room belonged to McGonagall. Gryffindor colours were spread about the room, and the same paintings were on the walls. There were definitely more Dumbledore touches here and there. A handful of gadgets sat on shelves and here was a gilded perch off to one side, upon which sat a large red bird.
"Fawkes!" Harry grinned, heading directly to the phoenix, who cocked his head at the human but accepted the gentle strokes he gave. Harry's previous anger had calmed almost immediately upon seeing the gorgeous bird.
"Ah, the two of you meet in the future then?" Dumbledore chuckled and Harry looked to him with a grin.
"We do," he confirmed, letting his hand fall. Fawkes let out a noise of disappointment, which made Harry laugh, and flew onto Dumbledore's shoulder to begin playing with his hair in a way that Hedwig usually did to Harry. Hedwig… Harry frowned. He was going to miss her.
Dumbledore laughed and gave Fawkes a pet, "Hello old friend," he smiled ad Fawkes nibbled his finger. "Would you do Jamie and myself the favour of taking us to Diagon Alley?" he asked, and Fawkes gave what Harry assumed to be an affirmative chirp. Dumbledore called him to his side and gripped his shoulder firmly before Fawkes let out a shriek. Harry was suddenly encompassed by a brief burning sensation, like he had put the shower on too high for only a second. When the burning stopped, he stumbled forward out of Dumbledore's grasp and caught himself before he fell flat on his face and crashed into the cobbles below him.
The familiar hustle and bustle of Diagon Alley met Harry's ears and he looked around. The Alley was much the same as it was in his time and Harry found himself grinning. He liked Diagon Alley. Just the overwhelming presence of magic and the familiar sights made him happy. Especially now, as absolutely no-one stared at him! He quickly followed as Dumbledore led the way through the crowd towards the bank. It didn't take very long for the professor to retrieve a small pouch of gold from the goblins, and the two wizards set about their shopping.
Three hours later, Harry was stood inside the great hall beside the teacher's table. He wore the correct uniform under plain robes that held no affiliation to any house. His hair was shorter and pushed back out of his face, lining up more with the hair styles common of the time. He missed his long tresses, especially his fringe, as now his scar was clear to see. He felt bare as he stood before the entirety of Hogwarts. He was waiting to be sorted again and he just hoped he would once more be placed in Gryffindor.
Riddle was watching him from the Slytherin table. Harry could see him, his piercing gaze and obnoxious smirk. Merlin, Harry wished he could wipe that smirk off his chiselled face. Students around Riddle occasionally glanced his way, but Harry could ignore them. The same went for students of the other houses. Riddle though… he kept his eyes firmly on Harry, not even looking away when his fellow Slytherins addressed him. Harry fought the urge to glare. Instead, he tried to focus on the ceiling and the beautiful evening sky it was depicting, but every so often he would look back over the students and saw Him still staring.
Finally Dippet decided to speak, once he was sure every student had arrived. The students were certainly confused as to why there wasn't any food on the tables yet. A lot hadn't realised Harry was stood by the Teachers' table. Their usual chatter died down as soon as the headmaster stood.
"Students," Dippet began, "You may recall the incident of two days ago. A new student of ours landed here thanks to a defective portkey. After recovering in the Hospital wing, Mr Evans is now able to be sorted. I hope that, whatever house he is sorted into, you will treat him fairly and welcome him openly." He sat down and Dumbledore, who was stood beside Harry, led the teen to the centre of the hall before the great table.
Harry looked out to the sea of students all now watching him with varying levels of intrigue. He was fairly certain he caught a few whispers about the lightning bolt scar that reached across his forehead and cut through his eyebrow. At least, he thought, here he wasn't The-boy-who-lived. The scar held no meaning here. He was just a new kid with a weird head wound. Intrigue would die down eventually.
He felt the Sorting hat be placed on his head and heard its familiar voice echo in his mind, "Well, what have we here?" The hat spoke in surprise. "I have sorted you once before, though I have yet to… how interesting…"
"Hello again hat," Harry greeted impatiently. "Can you just sort me into Gryffindor and get this over with?" He thought with a frown.
"I'm sorry, I'm afraid can't do that, Mr Potter." The hat said. "I told you before that you are best suited elsewhere. You evaded my decision then, but I still believe you belong in-"
"No, please. Don't put me there!" Harry cut the hat off, who just huffed.
"I think I know more than you on where to place students, young man," the hat grumbled snappishly. "I have been doing this for over a hundred years. You, I do believe, are a mere sixteen years old. Now let me do my job," he spoke with an uppity sort of voice.
Harry usually would have apologised for insulting him, but he couldn't be put in Slytherin. Not with Riddle. "Why do you even want to put me there?"
"Young man, you have a very cunning mind. Very daring. Ambitious. I do believe you're even more Slytherin material now than when you were eleven. Did you not profess to yourself, when you found you would be stuck here, that you would use this opportunity to your advantage?"
Harry almost sputtered aloud, "What? But- but that doesn't mean anything! It could just mean I'm brave enough to live in the past or something."
The hat scoffed, "Boy, you will come to find that I am a very stubborn garment. I allowed you to change my mind once, but that won't happen again. I strongly believe that you belong to-
"SLYTHERIN!" The hat bellowed, and Dumbledore removed it from the boy's head. There was thunderous applause as Harry's robes transformed to match those of his new housemates and he blinked, pale and wide eyed. Dumbledore nudged him over to the snake's table, granting him a kind but mildly disappointed smile. Stumbling a bit, Harry walked solemnly to the Slytherin table amidst cheers and clapping.
He briefly glanced at the teacher's table and saw Slughorn grinning proudly, and Dippet watching him with a calculating look. Harry returned his eyes to the ground. His fists were clenched, and he was gritting his teeth. Why did it have to be Slytherin? Maybe he probably wouldn't have minded if it weren't for the fact that Riddle was in Slytherin too. He would be stuck in close quarters with the bastard for months! Maybe even years! He didn't quite know how old the guy was, so it was very much likely he would end up spending the next two years of school with him.
He was quietly seething as he sat down at the emerald decked table amongst his new classmates. He barely even listened to the headmaster speak words of congratulations, and almost didn't notice when food appeared. The loud chatter of students returned, and Harry pushed his plate away, defeatedly laying his head on his arms. That was, until someone poked his shoulder sharply. Harry looked up to see a boy with long, white-blonde hair and a pale pointed face sneer at him. A gold badge was pinned to his impeccably neat robes, head boy. He must be a Malfoy, Harry thought absently.
"Pass the gravy," he requested.
Harry sighed and did so mutely. He decided to help himself to some food, but just sat picking at it.
"Oi, new kid," a different voice broke through to him. He looked over at a pale boy with thick wavy hair and storm grey eyes. Harry frowned; the boy reminded him of Sirius. He was sat diagonally to his left and was staring with concern. "You alright?"
"Don't speak to him, Alphard." Another boy said. He looked vaguely similar to Alphard, though with rich chocolate skin. He sneered at Harry. "He's probably a mudblood."
Alphard rolled his eyes, not noticing Harry glaring at the other boy. "I was just being civil, Orion." He huffed before returning to his food and Harry realised that these two must be Sirius' Father and Uncle. This made him upset again and he looked down, forgetting his brief anger over the boy's use of that word.
Harry attempted a mouthful of shepherd's pie, but it tasted bland. He looked around. Aside from the Malfoy and the two Blacks, he couldn't really identify anyone. Well, apart from Riddle, who was sitting not too far away from him it seemed. Harry could have kicked himself. He hadn't noticed he had chosen a spot so near the git. He was only two students down from Alphard and was still watching Harry as he ate.
Harry had finally had enough of the staring and glared back at the boy. "Don't you have anything better to do than stare at me?" he snapped.
There was an immediate hush over this part of the table. Alphard watched on in worry, while Malfoy, Orion, and the other students surrounding them watched on in almost sadistic curiosity.
Tom just grinned darkly, interest pooling in his eyes, "So he speaks," he drawled. His voice was like velvet. "Tell me, Evans, what is your name?"
"Jamie," Harry said shortly. "And yourself?"
"Tom Riddle," the other boy introduced. He looked excited at the back and forth. Harry saw it in his dark eyes. "And what year are you, Jamie? If I may call you that?"
Harry's stomach did flips, no he most certainly couldn't call him Jamie. He could not use the name of the man he killed. Of Harry's father. "Only if I can call you Tom," he retorted in feigned politeness, hoping to irritate the bastard, but Riddle looked even more amused. Harry fought the urge to glare. "I'm in sixth year."
Riddle hummed, "It appears we have a new dorm mate then, Orion," the snake drawled, looking briefly to the boy in question. The flips Harry's stomach were doing suddenly froze to a lurching halt. Riddle was in sixth year. They were going to have to share a bloody dorm! He would practically have zero respite from the bastard!
Orion nodded, "I do hope you don't snore, Evans."
There were a few snickers and Harry struggled to find a reply. He felt out of his depth. He knew that life in Slytherin would be different to life in Gryffindor, but these verbal battles were subtle and biting. Vastly different to the confrontations of lions. He was doing well so far, but he was bound to stumble at some point. He resigned himself to just chuckle lightly with the other snakes.
"Jamie," Tom spoke again once the laughter died away. "I must ask, what happened to give you that rather… peculiar scar?"
Most of the surrounding students seemed incredibly eager to learn the answer too, and watched him expectantly. Even Alphard, who had previously been avoiding looking at him, was watching him curiously. Harry was tempted to bite out a 'none of your business' but instead responded remarkably coolly.
"I got it when my parents were killed."
Alphard flinched and looked away again, but the same courtesy wasn't offered by any of the others. In fact, it just seemed to interest them more.
"My condolences," Tom said. If Harry didn't know how much of an evil git the boy was, he would have fallen for the charm and respect Riddle offered in that moment.
"Indeed," Malfoy agreed. He took a bite of his food before continuing, "Your parents, they were our kind, weren't they?"
Harry was reminded strongly of the first time he met Draco. He put on a small, proud smirk, "Of course," he began. "I can safely assume that to be the case for yourself?"
Malfoy straightened, disgusted at the mere idea of anything otherwise, "The Noble and Most Ancient House of Malfoy has been pure for generations," he insisted rather snobbishly. Harry found a small amount of joy in his ability to piss of the pompous git.
A boy on the other side of Harry scoffed. He was dark-haired, with rectangular glasses and a scholarly face. He bore a prefect badge, and Harry also noticed a similar artifact pinned to Riddle's robes. "Abraxas, don't be a jerk." He looked to Harry with a polite but bored smile, "Viktor Lestrange, a pleasure to meet you, Evans."
Harry smiled a small but real smile. This boy seemed okay, "And you."
Malfoy just let out a derisive huff and returned to his food.
"What NEWTs are you taking?" Lestrange asked.
"Oh, Charms, Transfiguration, Potions, Herbology, and Defence," Harry listed.
"How delightful," Orion drawled, "Tom and I are taking those too. Bar Herbology, of course. I'm taking Runes instead."
"And I'm taking Arithmancy," Tom nodded.
"Healer or Auror?" Lestrange asked almost out of nowhere. Harry looked at him in confusion. "Your NEWT choices. They line up with the requirements for Healers and Aurors. Granted, you could be aiming for neither, but they are the two most likely options. Especially judging by the fact you said your parents were killed. I would guess maybe you are leaning more towards becoming an auror, rather than a healer. If you said your parents merely died, rather than making sure we knew they were killed, then I would have thought healer instead."
Harry's original impression that Lestrange was alright kind of slipped away. He barely followed the explanation the boy gave, and he could usually keep up with Hermione. He blinked, "Er, yeah. Auror…" he said warily, and Lestrange looked satisfied as he pushed his glasses up.
"How noble, Jamie," Riddle commented, returning to his food, and the conversation seemed to dry up quickly afterwards.