I got a tumblr for my fanfiction, where I'll post stuff like updates, prompts, teasers, etc. Probably ramble a bit. I dunno- it's a work in progress. Please follow me. I don't know what I'm doing.
October rolled around, and Harry's nightmares were back in full force. Being confronted by the Boggart and his best friends' dead bodies had stirred up all the awful fears he'd been trying to repress, and now he could think of nothing else. He was constantly haunted by the possibility that he wouldn't be able to return to his time, and everyone who had relied on him would either be captured or dead. He almost hoped they were dead- he couldn't imagine what Voldemort do to them under his control.
Harry possessed the ability to stop that from happening- to kill Voldemort before he ever rose to power. But he wouldn't. He didn't think he would ever be able to kill Tom, not whilst he went by that name. Despite Harry's strong dislike for him, he knew Tom now. He was no longer a dark figure at the beginning of Voldemort's timeline. He'd seen Tom laugh at a joke, raise his arm to answer a question, lose at chess… he'd seen Tom scared. He wouldn't be able to kill Tom in the same way he wouldn't be able to kill Malfoy- he may hate him, but he was an innocent. Tom wasn't Voldemort; he was the cold, talented prefect with the unrivalled ability to piss Harry off.
This revelation made Harry realise how much Slytherin had always been within him. A noble Gryffindor wouldn't hesitate. A lion would think of the lives Riddle would soon take, and strike him down where he stood. Harry couldn't do that- not least because it would mess up the life he was building here for himself. As much as he didn't like it, Harry had always had the capability for sneakiness. Living with the Dursleys had given him a strong taste for survival and a sharp tongue. Hogwarts had removed the need for that; it had sheltered him, and provided a home. Gryffindor had given him warmth, encouraged bravery and nobility, and it was where he found his friends.
This time travel thing had fucked that up. Harry was stranded in a whole new world, surrounded by suspicion and enemies. He was thrown into the literal snake pit. Survival had required Harry to adapt, and he'd always been good at that.
From the moment he entered this magical world; that first day in Diagon Alley, he'd become the hero the Wizarding World wanted. And yes, Harry was noble and brave and moralistic, but the hat had to be dissuaded from Slytherin for a reason. Harry could distinctly remember forcing Lockhart into a chamber of death at wandpoint. Granted, it was to save Ginny, but was his method really the sort of noble gesture that Gryffindors favoured? Probably not.
It was at times like this that Harry would give anything for Hermione's gentle guidance.
These thoughts ran through his mind as he did what he did best- brooded in the Common room. The fireplace provided an adequately dramatic backing for his thoughts, and he wrapped his arms around himself. He hadn't even gone to the Room of Requirement since last week: his nightmares made him too tired to even consider it. And after an evening of reading the same page over and over, he'd decided that it was useless. He hadn't found anything useful anyway, and doubted he would if he had continued. As he discovered, 90% of the books were fiction, and the rest were guesswork.
He considered going to a teacher, but he didn't know or trust any of them. He supposed Dumbledore would have been the obvious choice, but Dumbledore had also spent a year pretending Harry didn't exist, and any previous conversations with the headmaster consisted of Dumbledore scooting around Harry's questions.
So, hope of returning home lost; every waking hour was spent feeling dissatisfied and tired, and constantly on the brink of tears.
Everyone who'd ever cared about him could be dead, and it would all be his fault. His parents died for him. Sirius died for him. Cedric died for him. The DA put their trust in him, and he let them down.
He didn't understand how anyone could stand to be around him.
Orion had been very distant recently. Harry had barely seen anything of him- Orion spent most of his time exchanging letters with his little sister, in which he asked 'subtly' about his brother. Harry let him be- they'd probably just depress each other. The Boggart had really freaked them both out.
Bloody Boggart.
"Peters?"
Harry raised his eyes slowly. Oh, it was Avery. Great.
"Finally." Avery sneered, having caught his attention. "Professor Dumbledore sent me to find you, despite the fact that I am not his owl. He wants to see you in his office."
Harry nodded wordlessly. Avery let out a 'humph' and spun on his heel; probably off to fantasise over high-ranking Ministry positions.
Harry took his time getting to Dumbledore's office, not looking forward to interacting with a reminder of the future. Dumbledore: just who he didn't want to see. Harry entered the office without knocking.
"Ah, Mr Peters!" Dumbledore said kindly. The Transfigurations professor was wearing a particularly fetching ensemble of lime green robes and a flowered cap. Harry couldn't even find it within himself to be amused.
"Hello sir," Harry said dully, taking a seat.
Dumbledore's smile fell at his tone. He laced his fingers together and looked sombre. "How are you faring?"
"Fine."
Dumbledore leaned back, surveying Harry thoroughly. It was nice to know that the x-ray vision was an ability gained early. "Harry-" he began, "can I call you Harry?"
He was going for that approach, then. "You can call me whatever you want, sir."
"Harry, I'm sorry to say that your professors are worried about you. Professor Merrythought told me about your unfortunate encounter with a Boggart, and I understand that it may have stirred up some difficult memories. I'm aware that you've gone through a great deal of trauma." Dumbledore looked devastated. "War is always more awful when it affects innocents. The loss of your parents must have been a difficult blow, and I know that you have been deprived of both family and friends."
Harry let out a harsh laugh- he had no idea- but Dumbledore continued on undeterred.
"I must say, when you first arrived at the school, I was very impressed with how you handled yourself. But in the last few weeks, your grades have dropped dramatically and you have ceased all participation in class. We're… concerned about you. Is there anything we can do to help?"
Harry hadn't expected this intervention. During fifth year, Dumbledore had been a removed, disconnected figure of authority, and refused to even make eye contact with Harry. This was certainly a different approach.
"No sir," Harry said, and then, picking at his cuticles: "Sorry, sir."
"There's nothing to apologise for, my dear boy."
A silence lapsed between them, and Harry ached to escape.
"Was there anything else bothering you? How are you finding schoolwork? I imagine it's been quite the change for you."
"It's fine, sir." Harry said dully.
"I notice that you've fallen in with a group of friends. Friendship is one of the most magical things we have in this life, I'm glad you've found it at Hogwarts," Dumbledore said encouragingly.
"I had friends before," Harry muttered.
Dumbledore acknowledged that solemnly. "I've also noticed interaction between you and Mr Riddle. When I asked him to look after you, I must admit I didn't expect such a friendship to bloom-"
"We're not friends," Harry spat, but he remembered the weight of Riddle's hand on his arm as he stared Luna in the eye.
"What a shame," Dumbledore said, but Harry saw the hint of a smile hidden beneath his beard. Harry had no time for the Riddle/Dumbledore points scoring.
"Maybe I should change that though," Harry said challengingly. "He's not all that bad."
"Glowing praise, indeed." Dumbledore chuckled. "The most beautiful of flowers often hide the sharpest thorns, Harry." He took a breath. "But, if you don't mind me saying, I find that there's nothing like hard work and friendship to stop one from focusing on doubts and fears. Don't look at the past, but at what might be ahead of you. The future is boundless, and anything is possible if you put your mind to it."
Harry wondered what greetings card Dumbledore snatched that bite of wisdom from.
"Can I go now, sir?" Harry murmured, pushing his glasses up his nose.
"Of course. And my door is always open, if you want to pop in for a chat."
"Thanks."
Harry stood up to leave. Before he could, Dumbledore opened his desk drawer and withdrew a packet. "Before you deprive me of your company, Harry, would you like to take a wine gum? They're a muggle sweet which I find quite delicious and equally fascinating."
Harry shrugged and took one, rolling it between his fingers until it was sticky. He could remember Dudley buying these, and then holding them in front of the grate on Harry's cupboard door. The faint sugary smell had been agonising.
"Don't worry," Dumbledore assured him, misreading the situation. "I've been assured that these delights are completely non-alcoholic. Honestly," he chuckled. "Wine gums with no wine. What will muggles think of next?"
Harry didn't laugh, but he did pop the sweet into his mouth. It didn't live up to the hype.
Despite the cheesiness of Dumbledore's words, Harry couldn't stop himself from replaying them over and over. The words about friendship had particularly stuck. He found himself longing for Orion's sweet-tempered company, and the opportunity to just nod as Orion rambled on.
Without thinking about it, he ended up at the Owlery. The hoots and rustling wings soothed him, and without realising it, an involuntary smile rose on his lips. Hedwig had loved coming back here every year. It was sanctuary after six weeks of being stuck with the Dursleys. She was a very social bird, even if she was a bit of an attention seeker.
Harry found what he'd been looking for. Orion stood with his back to Harry, stroking a very proud looking falcon. His hair was still long, tied back in a loose bun. Harry remembered when Sirius could still do that, back before Mrs Weasley had gone at him with the kitchen scissors.
"Take that to Meissa, okay? Don't let Mother see," Orion murmured to the bird, and it gave a low squawk before jumping out of the window and winging away. Orion watched its progress distantly.
"How's Rigel?" Harry asked, stepping closer.
Orion bit his lip, glancing at Harry. "Okay, I think. Meissa said he's getting better, but Mother has the funeral arrangements already sorted out."
Harry's eyes widened. "What a bitch."
Orion laughed in surprise. The laugh turned into a full on guffaw, and he clutched his stomach whilst his shoulders shook. Harry watched, the corners of his mouth upturned. It was nice to see Orion laugh, even if it was at a weird moment.
"A bitch!" Orion spluttered in amusement, before dissolving into peals of laughter again. He eventually trailed off, and Harry felt it was safe to continue.
"How could she do that?" Harry didn't think even Aunt Petunia would be capable. Granted, he probably wouldn't even get a funeral if he died at the Dursleys'. He wondered who would show up if he did. Perhaps Mrs Figg?
"She has me; I'm the Black heir. She doesn't need Rigel. And Mother never was one to get emotional over things." Orion frowned, before nodding decisively. "That's not going to be me. I want to marry someone who cares, like Walburga. None of my children will ever feel like they aren't needed."
Harry didn't say anything, but recalled Sirius telling the story of how he hated his family so much that he ran away. Once again, Harry wondered what could change Orion so much that he would drive away his firstborn son. Hopefully, getting rid of some of Orion's prejudices would help with that.
"Do you know what you want in the future, Harry?" Orion tilted his head curiously.
"I want a family," Harry said certainly. He'd always wanted one of those, especially living with the Dursleys. If his real family didn't want him, he'd have to make one that did. "And children, I suppose…" Harry ran a finger over one of the scars on his hand. "But I'm not sure if that'll happen anytime soon- I mean, I want them not to live in fear. I- it's a bit stupid, but-"
"No." Orion said softly. "I get what you mean. It's a weird time we live in, isn't it? What keeps me going is the knowledge that in fifty years, this'll all be over. I mean, it has to be, doesn't it? And hopefully one day I can look at my children and tell them about all of this," Orion spread out his arms. "And they won't be able to comprehend it."
"Yeah," Harry replied. "Yeah. That's a nice dream."
"So you know I want to be a Wardmaster, but what about you? What do you want to do? Is it something with Defence? You're really good at that- as good as Tom, even."
"I don't really know." Harry joined Orion by the window, and the two of them looked out onto the grounds together. "I thought I wanted to become an Auror, but…"
"You'd be good at that, I imagine."
"I'm just not sure if it's what I want to be any more," Harry frowned. He wasn't sure if he'd ever actually wanted to be one in the first place even, it was just what everyone expected of him. To carry on fighting dark wizards for the rest of his life.
"My father said it's difficult being an Auror. Most only last a few years."
One of the owls flew onto Harry's shoulder, perching and pecking at his hair. Harry stroked its feathers; they felt soft and warm beneath his fingers. It hooted. Harry wondered if it was just him: but the sound seemed mournful.
"I guess I don't really know what I want to be, then."
"You don't have to decide now what the future will be. You can just let it happen." Orion shrugged.
"I don't think I can," Harry scowled, angry at himself. It would be so easy to just forget where he came from, to dismiss it and carve out a new life for himself without thinking of what he left behind. But as Slytherin as he was becoming, he was still loyal to his friends. He had to keep trying, even if he didn't know precisely how.
Harry felt fuelled with new motivation, and the early morning breeze rustled in the eaves. Maybe he didn't know how he would get back- research hadn't worked- but he'd find a way.
"I'm scared," Orion confided quietly. "About Rigel, about the war. About what happens after Hogwarts. Out there."
"The war will be over soon," Harry said quietly. And then there will be a whole new one started by dear Tommy. "And you'll survive it. Promise. That's what I've learnt. People can survive mostly anything."
"Except death," Orion whispered.
"Except death," Harry allowed. The owl on his shoulder shifted, digging into his skin, and he shrugged it off. It flew to a perch on the other side of the room and glared at him balefully.
"Harry, we are friends, aren't we?" Orion said suddenly.
"Yeah," Harry said, smiling gently. Orion may not be Ron or Hermione, but he was a genuinely good person. Harry was glad to call him his friend.
Orion grinned. "You know, I've never before become friends with someone as quickly as I have with you. I think it's because you remind me of Dorea. I told the others a while back, and even then I knew we'd be friends."
"Who's Dorea?" Harry was curious, as the name rang a bell.
"Dorea Black. She's related to me somehow- she may be a cousin of some sort? We were engaged before she started seeing Charlus Potter. I think they're getting married during the summer."
Those were his grandparents, Harry realised. His grandparents, getting married during the summer. His grandparents were alive! For a moment, he imagined leaving Hogwarts, tracking them down and introducing himself. They'd welcome him with open arms into their family, and then he could meet his father, become friends with him and his mother- no. They wouldn't welcome him. They'd call him crazy and send him to St Mungo's.
And he couldn't meet them if they thought he was just a random stranger. He couldn't deal with that.
"Harry?" Orion said concernedly. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," Harry dismissed, blinking back tears. "I'm good. And yeah, it's nice to be friends with you too." And it was. At least he wasn't alone in this strange new world.
Orion gave him a huge, warm smile, which Harry couldn't fail to return.
"This has all gotten a bit miserable," Orion remarked lightly, and Harry laughed.
"Yeah, it has a bit."
"Well, it's a Hogsmeade weekend, so we could always head down to the village with everyone. It's a relatively nice day outside."
Harry looked disbelieving.
"…Well, it's not raining at least. It could be good to get out. And apparently Honeydukes have new stock- this incredible thing called an ever-changing lollipop? It changes flavours in your mouth." Orion bumped shoulders with Harry.
"We could invite Walburga…" Harry said suggestively, and Orion turned a bright red.
"Th-that's not what I was thinking about," he stuttered.
"I know." Harry grinned. "But it is now, isn't it?"
Tom had been busy coming up with ways to approach Harrison and befriend him. Unfortunately, his fellow Slytherin had been distinctly downcast over the last few weeks, so Tom had been loath to approach him. 'Friendships' formed during dark moods never tended to last, and Tom wanted any connection he made with a seer to be secure.
Luckily, he didn't have to take the initiative, because Harrison was the one to approach him. Wonders never ceased.
"Hey Riddle," Harrison said gruffly, standing in front of him uncomfortably. Orion stood at his side, practically vibrating with excitement- their friendship appeared to have been renewed, Tom noted. The Boggart incident had cast a shadow upon it.
"Yes?" Tom asked politely, setting down his parchment and quill.
"I was wondering-"
"We were wondering," Orion butted it.
"Yeah," Harrison agreed, giving Orion a fond smile. "We were wondering if you'd want to, er, come with us to Hogsmeade? There'll be other people," he rushed to correct. "It's sort of a group thing."
"I'd be delighted to." Tom agreed readily, already seeing an opportunity to get closer to Harrison.
The wizard in question looked shocked. "You would?"
"Of course."
And that was how Tom found himself, wrapped up tightly in a coat and scarf, on the steps of Hogwarts with a group surrounding him. It was the usual crowd: Atticus, Rupert, Cassius, Montgomery, Orion, and now Harrison. Walburga had also been invited, and so of course Druella had tagged along with her. Abraxas and Lucian made up the rest. And obviously, they were all gathered beneath Tom.
Tom… and Harrison.
Tom eyed his companion on the top step curiously. He didn't think Harrison even knew what he'd done: joined the top step that usually only Tom resided on. Apparently, Harrison was just a natural leader, or at least had no regard for the social standings of their group; something that made him even more fascinating. And even more curiously, Tom didn't think he minded. It was a little irritating obviously, but there was nowhere near the amount of anger that would have been in him had, say, Malfoy tried to join him.
"So how long will this take?" Druella asked, voice muffled beneath her scarf. The hood of her robe couldn't contain her mass of hair, and it hovered around her head like a curly, golden halo.
Tom opened his mouth to answer, but Harrison got there first. "We'll be back for dinner, but you can leave when you like."
Tom gave Harrison a sideways look, but let the moment past. Harrison had just said what he'd been about to anyway.
"Shall we set off?" Tom suggested mildly, and everyone nodded in agreement.
They set off, quite the procession, down the path towards Hogsmeade. Tom fell into step with Harrison, walking close beside him. Harrison tried to speed up, but Tom kept up with very little difficulty, as one of his strides was equal to two of Harrison's. Eventually, Harrison gave up and resolved himself to trudging glumly beside Tom, who regarded it as a personal victory.
"So what inspired this group outing?" Tom attempted to start a civil conversation; something that he and Harrison had too few of.
"It was Orion's idea," Harrison said briefly.
Tom nodded at that, not at all surprised. "I saw the article about Bideford in the newspaper." He prompted. "That was your village, wasn't it?"
"Yeah," Harrison muttered. "That was it."
"The church looked beautiful," Tom offered.
"I wouldn't know. I don't spend that much time in church."
"An atheist?" Tom questioned. It didn't come as much of a surprise; most of the Wizarding world were atheist, or at least had never considered the idea of a god in the first place. When he'd first come to Hogwarts, it had been quite the shock to his system. The orphanage was Christian, and Mrs Cole was quite the God-fearing woman. The cries of 'devil-boy' and 'possessed' had been regular occurrences in his childhood.
"I suppose so," Harrison agreed.
"Did you go to the Duelling club nearby?"
"Duelling club?"
"Where you learnt to duel, and practised? I assumed your parents didn't teach you all of the talent I saw earlier…"
"Oh, yeah. That's where I went. That's where I picked up all of my duelling skills. Good old DA." Harrison said with a strange smile. Tom supposed he was surprised that Tom had researched the area so thoroughly.
"You must have duelled quite the opponents to be so talented." The phrase 'and to almost beat me' hung in the air between them.
"Oh yeah," Harrison grinned suddenly. "Loads of opponents. We all went by nicknames, like muggle wrestling, you know? Twoface, Basilisk, Wormtail, Noseless, and Blondie- I beat them all."
Tom wasn't familiar with the genre of muggle wrestling that Harrison was suggesting, but didn't say anything so not to appear ignorant. Perhaps it was something he saw in a vision. "That's certainly an array of aliases. And yours was…?"
"Scarhead," Harrison said, with a surprising amount of relish.
"That seems cruel."
Harrison burst out laughing, extremely loudly and extremely hard. Tom felt the rest of the group peering over at them curiously. Tom had no idea what had prompted such an unseemly display.
"Yeah," Harrison giggled.
"I don't understand what's so funny."
"It's just," snort "you," hic "commenting," shake "on someone being cruel to me." Harry wiped his eyes, tears of hysteria running down his cheeks.
"I'm not certain of what you-"
"Oh it's nothing, Riddle, you're an angel," Harrison patted him consolingly on the shoulder, and snorted again.
Tom got the impression that he was being snubbed, and bristled. Then he remembered that he was trying to be friendly to Harrison, and smoothed down his quills. Still, Harrison was making it exceedingly difficult.
"Ah," Harrison sighed, bending his neck back and bathing his face in the sunlight. "It feels good to laugh."
"So where are we going first?" Orion bounded up to the two of them, still filled with energy. It was certainly a change from the sombre, dark figure that he'd struck for the last few weeks. He appeared to have put his brother's plight out of his mind. Tom couldn't work out if the change was welcome or not.
"We could go to Honeydukes and check out those lollipops you wanted," Harrison said. "If everyone agrees."
What followed was a general agreement, but then Tom would have been surprised if anyone said no to sugar.
"And they've produced this new product: sugared butterfly wings…" Orion told everyone excitedly. It didn't surprise Tom in the least that Orion knew all about the latest confectionary.
"Made with real butterflies?" Walburga asked doubtfully.
"Real butterflies," Orion confirmed, eyes alight.
Walburga squealed with disgust. "That's utterly vile!" she complained.
Druella rolled her eyes at her friend. "You use 'real' toad eyes and newt skin in Potions quite happily. Don't become a stereotype of the female gender."
"Yes, but I'm not eating those, am I?"
Druella stared at her, bewildered. "What do you think we do with Potions?"
"That's different," Walburga insisted primly, throwing her scarf over her shoulder and walking faster. "Well, I'm on a diet, so I shall just have to decline Honeydukes. I need new quills, anyway."
Druella hurried her pace. "Another diet? Burga, you really don't need it- but I did want to stop off at Shrivenshaft's anyway…"
Tom hid a smile at their antics. Whilst Druella's constant social justice could get draining, he at least appreciated her intelligence and strength of character. And the Witches' Suffrage movement was something he could agree with, as Tom knew that there was very little difference between men and women- at least not in magical strength. He couldn't abide uninformed idiots, which is what most wizards seemed to turn into when confronted with 'women's liberationists'. Tom lived safely in the knowledge that mostly everyone was below him, no matter their gender.
It was two in the afternoon when they entered Hogsmeade. Tom wasn't sure what he thought of the little village; whilst he enjoyed the novelty of being surrounded by magic, he disliked the bustling loudness of it all. It was too bright for him; too commercial. He much preferred the darker aspects of the wizarding world like Knockturn Alley.
"Oh!" Rupert said, pointing out a small shop, gleaming with a glossy orange finish. "I didn't know they had a Zonko's in Hogsmeade. It must be new."
"Just what was needed," Atticus sneered.
"I know right?" Rupert whistled cheerfully, and grabbed Atticus firmly by the sleeve. "Come on, Atty. Maybe they have something for puncturing egos."
Atticus protested weakly as he was dragged away. "But I don't want to-"
"Tom will still be here when you get back," Rupert said brightly. "No time to waste!" And then they were through the door to Zonko's.
"Poor Avery," Druella said drily. "He'll come out a changed man."
Harrison huffed in amusement, but frowned at the joke shop. "I'm just going to pop in and look for something."
"But we were going to Honeydukes," Orion whined.
"You go with the others. Meet back here in an hour, yeah?" It was addressed to Orion, but Tom was the one who answered.
"A sensible idea," he agreed, raising his voice. "Change of plan: if anyone else has anywhere they'd like to visit, feel free. We'll reconvene here for drinks at three."
A rumble of agreement followed. Lucian Nott lumbered off towards the back alleys, slipping his hand into his pocket. Abraxas Malfoy drifted after him, saying something about new robes. Harrison patted Orion on the shoulder and muttered something under his breath. And then he strode off towards Zonko's, drawing his coat closer to his body.
The people that were left split into two: Tom, Druella and Walburga headed to Shrivenshaft's, as he needed new ink and he didn't ever allow himself to consume copious sugar. Tom could only imagine Harrison's response to that. Something like "don't want to ruin your precious teeth, Riddle?" probably. The sentiment was technically correct. Tom could live without yellowed incisors like Mrs Cole's, and sugar played havoc with his skin.
The rest of the group headed towards Honeydukes: an enthusiastic Orion leading the parade. Tom would just have to avoid the boy as he came down from his sugar rush. He didn't envy Harrison, who may develop convenient deafness over the next few days;
Tom always enjoyed spending time with Druella and Walburga, as much as he could enjoy spending time with anyone. He didn't often get the chance, as they ran in different circles and Tom didn't waste a lot of time on people who wouldn't amount to anything. Walburga would soon be a trophy wife in Romania, and Druella's liberation movement was unlikely to gain support soon enough to give her a lucrative career. Still, they were both very academically inclined, and usually discussed literature. Whilst the constant jibing and name dropping amongst Tom's associates was necessary and useful, sometimes it was good to get away from it all.
He picked up a pot of Evershine ink, considering the value, and listened to the girls' conversation.
"Did you read Cauldron Embers, by J.R Juniper?" Walburga tossed a ringlet over her shoulder and dusted down her pleated skirt. "I think it was utterly enthralling. He captured the romance perfectly- just a hint of mystery and passion. I wish I were Martha," she sighed.
"I think it's completely over-hyped. It's an abusive and controlling relationship, and the girl is so naïve! She just wanders around until Sir Henshaw tells her to sit." Druella sniffed. "If you're looking for a romance, what you want is Bluebird Wishes by Rose Shrewson. It's brilliant."
"But that's a woman's name," Walburga said uncertainly.
"Precisely. Which makes it a lot more realistic when she writes from a woman's perspective."
"Huh," Walburga considered. "I can see that."
"She's also a muggleborn," Druella added.
Walburga cooed. "Well, she can't help that, poor thing. What's it about?"
"So it's this story about the developing love between a muggle man and a witch, which is brilliant because it really gives some power to the woman in the situation, as she's the one introducing him to this whole new world. And the authoress uses some really clever nature metaphors throughout the whole thing."
Walburga clapped delightedly. "This sounds like precisely the sort of literature that should be available at my ball!"
"You're still going ahead with that?"
"Of course I am."
Druella pursed her lips and furrowed her brow, playing with the edge on a roll of parchment. "Ella… you know I'm delighted- really, honestly delighted- that you've decided to do something for the underprivileged, but this seems like odd timing. You're to be married this summer. Will you really have time?"
"I'm only getting married at the end of the summer, silly, I'll have plenty of time. And I'm sure Apus won't deny his wife one small activity. Father's footing the bill, anyway," Walburga shrugged stiffly.
"Why not do it later? After all the marriage fuss has settled down?"
"Because I'll be in Romania." Walburga said quickly.
"…What?"
Tom's eyebrows raised- Druella hadn't known? From the moment Tom had heard about the match, he'd assumed Walburga would be following her husband back to his homeland. But Tom supposed that perhaps Druella had thought that Walburga would be granted enough agency to stay at home, even briefly. That had been naïve of her.
"I'm going back with Apus, to live with him, of course. In Romania." Walburga said breezily, tight smile entirely false.
"B-but you can't," Druella stuttered.
"I have to." Walburga sighed, and for once she appeared worldlier than her friend. "He'll be my husband- I follow where he goes."
"It's not right," Druella said fiercely.
"Of course it is," A soft smile. "What would I do without a husband? And I can't exactly live in a different country to him. This is the best solution." She winked. "And they've outlawed house elves in Romania, so I'll have actual staff! I've been promised a ladies maid."
"Of course you have," Druella rolled her eyes, and hesitated. "I can kidnap you, if you want. If I take hostage of you, you won't have to go anywhere." Tom didn't even think she was joking.
Walburga laughed though, and patted Druella's cheeks. "You always come up with the silliest plans. I'll be fine, Ella. Really. I'm going to be desperately, drunkenly happy. This is what I've always dreamed of."
The two girls shared a fond smile, and Walburga reached out to squeeze Druella's hand. "You have to visit, Ella," she spoke almost desperately. "As much as you can."
"So much that you'll get tired of me," Druella said confidently.
"That could never happen."
The dawning intimacy of the situation caused Tom to feel vaguely uncomfortable. He'd never liked being around affection. He didn't mind it directed towards him, as it created a power dynamic that Tom enjoyed manipulating. But being around people in love… it made them unpredictable and confusing, as it had always been the one emotion he had trouble understanding. Love was a disgusting sort of weakness that weakened the mind and resolve.
If what Walburga and Druella shared was love, Tom didn't believe they would ever express it. Same sex relationships were generally allowed, although not encouraged, but male dalliances were preferred. Females had the duty of marrying advantageously and bearing children, something which a relationship with another woman wouldn't allow for. Well-bred pureblood women never married other women.
He coughed, if only so they would stop staring into each other's eyes. Almost immediately they broke apart, blushing fiercely. Walburga scooped up a quill, declaring how she thought the shade to be exceedingly pretty, and Druella agreed in a fluster.
Tom, despite himself, was amused by their embarrassment.
"So, how's Peters settling in?" Druella redirected, the red on her cheeks dying down. "I noticed he was standing with you earlier."
"Oh yes!" Walburga jumped on the new conversation. "How is the darling? I heard about your altercation. He's quite the unexpected talent."
"He is," Tom agreed, thinking of the talents no one else knew about. Seerdom, for one.
"Good enough to almost beat you," Druella pointed out lightly.
"Why do people keep mentioning that?" Tom said, the curl to his lips not entirely a smile.
"Probably because it's so surprising. You're the lord of the castle, Riddle. Peters is a… challenger, I guess," Druella mused. "Or maybe more like a potential partner. You don't seem to object to him."
And Tom didn't, he supposed. Normally, any attempt to act like Harrison had would be crushed. The constant jibes and pokes- Tom would have at least hexed or sabotaged him. But instead he found himself caught up in verbal battles, and so incredibly intrigued and amused by it all. There was a peculiar intelligence to Peters. Not academically, although Harrison was no idiot, but on a higher level. Tom got the impression that Harrison's brain moved quicker and more strategically than the general population's; he made leaps that no other person could. And he was so doggedly determined and brave- Tom could appreciate that. Even his recklessness added to his strength. Although Tom didn't know why Harrison was put in Slytherin- he was awful at lying. His 'seer' secret had lasted a mere month around Tom.
"He's such a sweetheart," Walburga murmured. "And adorable if I do say so. Those eyes and that hair… he has such a distinguished face."
"Should Apus be jealous?" Druella teased lightly.
"Don't be ridiculous. I'm just surprised he's only a muggleborn-"
"Halfblood." Tom corrected. "He's a halfblood." like me, he finished mentally.
"And with such magical power! It's really quite impressive- he'll get places in this world, I tell you. I was just talking with Lobelia Meadowes on the subject-"
"Peters doesn't like you, Riddle, does he?" Druella said, eyes sharp. There was such momentary clarity in her vision that Tom wondered if she was in cahoots with her brother.
"I really do insist you call me Tom." He said icily, and directed a sharp smile towards Druella.
"Don't be silly Ella!" Walburga giggled. "Everyone likes Tom!"
Druella shrugged, assenting. "I'm just saying: Peters argues with Tom more than anyone else."
The subject was dropped, and the conversation turned to lighter, more 'pleasant' matters.
"So," Walburga leaned in. "Sofia Dolohov was seen entering Lucille's Parlour this morning. She's on the hunt again." The resulting smirk was not unlike a satisfied cat.
"Didn't she marry again mere months ago?" Tom inquired disinterestedly.
"Well, this one's already lasted longer than the second one. He held on a matter of weeks." Walburga revealed with a disturbing amount of glee.
"She's Rupert's mother, isn't she?" Druella said vaguely. Tom could tell she had little interest in the gossip.
"Poor thing," Walburga said sympathetically. "It must be difficult to see his mother flaunting herself like that. You have to admire her technique though."
"Maybe she's just a woman expressing her sexuality, instead of flaunting herself," Druella suggested delicately.
"She's killing people for money," Walburga said bluntly.
Druella spluttered. "Y-yes, well."
Tom rolled his eyes and checked the time on the wall. Still a while 'til three. Perhaps he would work out how he planned to sway Harrison to his side.
Harry's visit to Zonko's had been a moment of madness. He'd been gripped with a strange curiosity, knowing that he had never visited this shop before. Shrivenshaft's, yes. Honeydukes, yes. But never Zonko's. Harry never was much of a pranker (to Sirius' disappointment.)
Harry admitted that he wanted to feel closer to his godfather, wanted to experience and share some of that joy that Sirius was always going on about- had gone on about. Because he was dead.
Harry inspected the row of shock quills, and wondered if you were supposed to feel this morbid in a joke shop.
No. He didn't want to feel like this. He wanted to regain that motivation, that purpose he'd found in his conversation with Orion. He was going to find his way home, and he was going to give Ron and Hermione a hug.
With renewed determination, he surveyed the nose-biting teacups. These would be funny, probably.
Zonko's was an incredible place. For such a small shop, it certainly packed a lot in. It was just as vibrant on the inside as it was the outside: everything coloured a searing orange with purple details. It was a loud and busy place; featuring displays that disappeared and reappeared, models that sprung from caverns in the walls, and birds that would fly across the shop in a flurry of dropped feathers and bird poo every fifteen minutes. It also packed a lot of students, as the newly-opened shop seemed an attraction for the briefly-freed Hogwarts students. Harry held in a breath and wished for someplace quieter.
"You're looking remarkably serious for a boy in a joke shop," Rupert said, strolling up to Harry and slinging a breezy arm around his shoulder.
"I don't know what to get," Harry replied broodily.
"So don't get anything," Rupert shrugged carelessly. "Forget all that shit. I bought enough for everyone in here."
"Yeah... you kinda did," Harry agreed, eyeing Rupert's several bags stuffed full to the brim with… stuff and things.
"Look, Peters. I like you. I like the way you stand up to Tom. Merlin knows someone needs to, and I'm too scared to do it." Rupert said honestly. Harry was struck by his confidence- Rupert was never this sure of himself when Riddle was around. "But you need to lighten up. Play a few jokes, laugh a bit. You can't always be miserable." Rupert smiled a little, but there was an edge to it.
Harry grunted in reply, pushing his glasses up his nose. He wasn't entirely convinced.
Rupert lowered his voice, and leaned in with a conspiratorial grin. "Want to be let in on a prank?"
"A prank on who?" Harry asked doubtfully.
"Tom."
Harry was already protesting when Rupert put a hand up. "Listen, all you'd have to do is give him one of these sweets we found. He trusts you more than he trusts either of us, probably- not that Tom really trusts anyone. He'll never suspect it."
Harry was about to say no, when he saw a little picture of Sirius in his mind's eye. He was nodding emphatically, waving his arms, and mouthing encouragements. Harry sighed and asked reluctantly, "What kind of sweets?"
Rupert dug into his bag and pulled out a packet of 'Bloody Boiled Treats, for night-time fiends'. "They taste like blood," he said helpfully.
Harry scoffed. "I never would have guessed."
Rupert burst out laughing. "Sarcasm," he chuckled, punching Harry's shoulder/collar bone, causing him to stumble back a little. Rupert Dolohov was an intimidating physical specimen. "I knew there was a reason I liked you."
"Wasn't it because I 'stand up' to Riddle?" Harry air-quoted.
"Which makes you the perfect candidate for this task!" Rupert cheered, pushing the sweets into Harry's chest. "Come on. Just tell him you went to Honeydukes after all, and offer him one. He'll spit it out after he realises what it is, and it'll give us all some shit to laugh about later."
"Fine," Harry rolled his eyes, but felt a stirring of excitement within him. "I'll do it."
"Great," Rupert replied, rubbing his hands together. "It's just coming up to half past, so you've still got thirty minutes until we're all meeting up. Why don't you head over to Honeydukes so this is more realistic?" Rupert began pushing Harry towards the exit, talking all the while. "And remember not to let Tom see the packet, or he'll guess what you're doing. And don't tell him I was involved if he gets angry. See you in half an hour- bye!"
The door swung shut behind Harry, and he stumbled out onto the pavement.
"Well, this took an unexpected turn," Harry mumbled. "Er…"
Harry took a moment to get his bearing, before heading east. He might as well go to Honeydukes and see how Orion was doing, as it wasn't like the sweet shop was very far away. His walk was brisk, and he longed to escape the cold just settling in the air. Harry had always been resistant to low temperatures- the Dursleys locked him out often enough, but that also instilled a hatred of the ache in your bones that winter could bring.
His coat was a thin, slightly pathetic thing. He'd had trouble making ends meet when he time travelled- loans and as many odd jobs as possible could only get you so far. (Honestly, the only reason he'd had a place to sleep was because Tom in the Leaky Cauldron felt sorry for him- Harry was certain that he'd lowered the prices without Harry knowing. Harry made sure to help out in the pub when he could, to say thank you.) And so all of his non-school clothes came from charity shops. Finding stuff that fit wasn't easy, but Harry made do. It was better than the throw offs he got from the Dursleys.
Bloody hell. Harry needed to stop thinking about his lovely aunt and uncle. It was stressing him out.
Honeydukes was welcomingly warm, and the sweet smell of fudge brought a small smile to his face. He inhaled happily, closing his eyes in remembrance. He'd followed Ron and Hermione here, hidden under the slippery folds of the invisibility cloak. He really missed that old thing- he wished he'd been carrying it with him when the explosion happened. He hadn't brought anything with him other than his clothes, glasses and wand- sometimes he wished that he'd had the picture of his parents folded in his back pocket, as he sometimes did. It would be nice to have something familiar to hold onto.
"Harry!" And there was Orion, pushing his way past students and waving excitedly. His other hand was clutching a bag spilling with sugared goods, which Harry was surprised he could carry. "You made it!"
"I said I would." Harry had a sudden urge to give Orion a strong hug, like Hermione often would, but he restrained himself. They probably weren't at that stage in their friendship yet.
"Come on, I want to show you the sugared butterflies," Orion told him gleefully, and started pushing back towards the way he came. He was surprisingly efficient at creating a pathway through the crowds, through a combination of shoving and apologies. Harry followed, muttered a quick "sorry" when he bumped into anyone.
On the way, he saw Cassius murmuring to himself by a shelf of bubblegum, comparing the prices. The idea of Cassius, sitting in a chair in the Common room whilst he blew a bubble as big as Riddle's head, made Harry snort with laughter.
He also caught a glimpse of Lestrange huddled in the corner, conversing darkly with a younger Ravenclaw. He didn't want to know what that was about. But Lestrange seemed to sense Harry's gaze on him, as he looked up at the precise moment to catch Harry's eye. The dark, animalistic look that flashed across his features made Harry's skin crawl. He was glad when he lost sight of him again.
"It's just here!" Orion yelled, beckoning Harry with his hands. He was standing next to a display of colourful boxes, all containing sugar-coated, beautifully preserved butterfly wings. "Apparently they taste like oranges. They're very delicate."
"Those are…" Harry peered into the boxes. Each one contained a box of perfect wings, colours still vividly beautiful. The sugar grain glistened, and it was as if each one appeared to sparkle. "…Morbid."
"They're also rather expensive, so I only bought three," Orion shrugged.
Harry looked at the price, which he hadn't seen before and- fuck! Bloody hell. Orion had bought three?!
"Why don't you get one?" Orion suggested brightly.
"I don't think…"
"Septimus said they were excellent-"
"I don't think I can afford them. I'm a broke orphan," Harry said bluntly, not dodging around the issue. "I could buy a new pair of shoes for that price."
"I'll buy it!" Orion offered without a thought.
Harry's eyes nearly bulged out of his skull. Bloody hell- was this how Ron had felt when Harry had offered to buy him things? "No, mate," Harry assured Orion firmly. "I'll be fine without."
Orion looked like he was going to cry. Not genuinely- Harry had learnt that noble-raised Purebloods rarely expressed their emotions that easily: not even Orion, possibly the most open and naïve Pureblood to be born yet.
(But only because Neville was yet to be created.)
Still, Orion looked genuinely distraught. Oh Merlin, Harry thought.
"But you can buy me this, if you want!" Harry offered consolingly, going straight for the cheapest thing in the shop. "This…" he narrowed his eyes at the label. "…Banana chew." Harry hated bananas.
"Really?" Orion asked doubtfully.
"Banana chews are my favourite," Harry assured him with false enthusiasm. Orion exclaimed in delight and scooped it into his bag of goodies. Harry wondered if he would have to eat it in front of Orion later, or if he could throw it away without him noticing.
Harry and Orion spent the rest of their time browsing. Harry made sure to avoid Lestrange. He'd barely spoken to him apart from uncomfortable greetings at mealtimes and that first incident, but something about the other boy's twisted gaze and savage movements set Harry on edge more than even Riddle did.
"It's almost three," Orion observed, flipping open his pocket watch. It was a beautiful thing: gold and inset with dark rubies; bearing the Black family crest behind the face.
"We should head back." Harry slipped a hand into his pocket and gripped the packet of Blood Boiled Treats. He supposed it could be fun to see Riddle choking on one of those. And he could make Sirius' memory proud.
On the way back to the meet-up point, Orion pulled out the banana chew and passed it to Harry, and then watched him expectantly. Harry obligingly (but reluctantly) slipped it into his mouth and began chewing.
Huh, it was tougher than he'd thought.
He repressed the grimace as the synthetic taste of bananas hit his pallet, and offered Orion a queasy smile.
"Itsh grea'," he mumbled, lie disguised by spittle.
Harry was still chewing when they reached their friends, and joined the huddle. Harry rolled on the balls of his feet and blew out a breath of warm air, where it fogged in the autumnal sky. The metal of his glasses was cool on the bridge of his nose. By some coincidence, Harry had ended up standing next to Riddle, whom he sent a sullen look towards. Hadn't he spent enough time with the git today already?
Apparently, Harry wasn't as good at disguising his disgust as he thought, even though he thought he hid the deep crinkle in his brow rather well.
"Something you ate?" Riddle asked, smiling superiorly down at him.
"Or saw," Harry offered bad-temperedly, swallowing down the awful banana mush and grimacing.
Riddle sighed, and looked very serious all of a sudden. "Look, Harry-"
Harry flinched and gazed wide-eyed at Riddle. Did he just call him Harry? "It's Harrison," Harry said fiercely, swimming in memories of Voldemort's harsh voice wrapping tightly around the syllables of his name.
"Harry," Riddle repeated nonetheless. "I understand that we got off on the wrong foot, but I'd like it if we could become civil. I do take some responsibility for our current status- I may have pushed you too far with my questioning, on occasion- but I think you can also admit that we share the blame. You have been quite… spikey, from the start of our association. I dearly hope we can work to resolve that?"
It was the most insulting apology Harry had ever received, but it didn't take much consideration for him to accept it. Harry had already decided to try and be 'nicer' with Riddle- it would make everything a lot easier, and he didn't need an unnecessary enemies. He was more than willing to attempt reconciliation.
But that didn't stop the suspicion at Riddle's motives. Why was he attempting to create some sort of 'friendship' now? Riddle was a manipulator down to the bone, and Harry didn't trust it. This had to have some benefit for the other boy.
Harry gave a small nod in reply, and Riddle grinned; dark eyes gleaming with satisfaction. Harry wondered if he could sense Harry's suspicion, or if his personal triumph had made him blind. Harry hoped for the latter: it was probably best to keep Riddle off guard.
To his left, Rupert elbowed him in the gut.
Harry took the hint, and reached into his pocket, delving into the packet of scarlet confectionaries and withdrawing one. He could feel Rupert straighten with excitement.
"Hey Riddle," Harry said casually. "In spirit of all this friendship-forming, want a sweet?"
Riddle eyed him carefully, then reached out to receive it. Harry knew that the gesture was not without scepticism: Riddle was anything but stupid, after all. However, the Slytherin prefect couldn't exactly preach civility and then refuse a gift.
Harry noted this couldn't have gone better if he'd planned it.
He dropped the sweet into Riddle's hand. Riddle held it up to the light; possibly wondering at the flavour. And then he popped it into his mouth, beginning to work it over with his tongue, cheeks hollowing.
For reasons unknown to him, Harry blushed.
Rupert was tensed, watching Riddle with bated breath. Riddle, raising an eyebrow at their interest, simply gave them a droll thumbs up before continuing absent-mindedly sucking upon the sweet, his hands placed casually in the pocket of his robes.
Harry turned to Rupert questioningly, but the other boy shrugged minutely. Harry had been certain that he'd given him the right sweet- he was certain, in fact. It must have been Rupert's mistake.
Or maybe, Harry observed drily, Riddle was just a vampire.
In the meantime, Malfoy and the hulking boy- Nott, perhaps?- had sidled back; Malfoy bearing an expensive looking bag, and Nott with lighter pockets. Harry decided he would be better off not knowing.
Riddle swallowed, and smiled at the group. "Shall we get drinks?"
The Three Broomsticks was just as crowded as always, and Tom wished that he'd chosen a quieter spot. There was a small tea house not a ten minute walk away but- alas, they already had their tables. He surveyed the tipsy regulars clinging to the bar with distaste. That was why he avoided alcohol.
Someone came to take their drinks order. Those under-age went for either water or butterbeer. Malfoy ordered a Dragon Barrel Brandy, and Nott asked for Chocolate liqueur, of all things. Walburga chose some sort of cocktail that had a complicated name and ingredients list, and Druella ordered the strongest rum they had.
"So how did everyone's day go?" Walburga asked sweetly. "Did everyone find what they wanted?"
"Zonko's was very helpful. Atty loved it." Rupert said, elbowing poor Atticus and sniggering. Ah, so that was where they found those disgusting sweets.
Tom wasn't blind, nor was he ageusic. He knew precisely what had gone on earlier. As soon as Rupert had started practically vibrating, and elbowing Harrison; he'd known to be on his guard for some kind of trickery. And he was right. So he'd suckled on the foul thing for as long as he could manage- blood flavour, honestly-, before finding an excuse to swallow it. If he used a mouth-cleansing spell subtly after, well, no one knew but him. It was worth it to see the dawning confusion and disappointment on Rupert's features. And Harrison's too, he supposed, if on a smaller scale.
Tom just hoped that Harrison's agreement to go along with the prank stemmed from a sense of camaraderie with his companions (which could be very useful to Tom), and not animosity towards Tom. He hoped that Harrison had gotten over whatever bizarre dislike he'd harboured for Tom upon their meeting- as their earlier reconciliation suggested. Tom was not foolish enough to think that all tension had departed, but this was a step in the right direction towards procuring Harrison's loyalty and abilities.
Tom snatched a discarded newspaper from an empty neighbouring table. The Daily Prophet; biased, but factually accurate. He turned it over to the front page, and frowned.
"What is it?" Druella asked, as one of the more observant members of the group.
But it was Harrison who answered, peering over at the paper. "The war… it's escalating."
"The number of magical dead are increasing. Grindelwald's closing in on us," Tom elaborated softly. "Only a few of his radical supporters have reached our shores so far… but it won't be long now. Perhaps a year or so. Maybe even the Dark Lord himself. "
"Well, he'd better not ruin my NEWTS," Rupert laughed, and there was a grateful chuckle passed around the table.
"France is holding up well," Orion said positively. "Father said it's remarkable; what with the amount of pressure they're getting from within the government. It's rumoured that the Vice Minister himself is one of his supporters."
"Well, my father is close friends with the Vice Minister," Atticus said angrily. "And I can assure you; 'rumours' is too strong a word. He is a lovely gentlemen, who's always been very kind to our family, and we return the gesture."
Rupert spotted the opportunity for trouble. "I'm surprised your father still has any friends after the Ball debacle-"
"Do you ever shut up, Dolohov?" Atticus spat.
Tom noticed Harrison looked confused, and saw the opportunity for further bonding. He leaned over subtly and murmured; "Atticus' father suffered a rather public demotion at the Ministry Ball over the summer, and consequently conducted himself in a manner quite unbecoming of someone of his station- or rather, former station."
Harrison grinned. "Were chairs thrown?"
Tom smirked lightly. "A few."
"You'd think," Harrison began quietly. "That with all this 'pureblood training from birth', they'd be able to handle themselves with a bit more tact. At parties and such."
"All the training in the world can't make up for weakness of character," Tom commiserated, and the two shared a look; united halfblood orphans in a room full of purebloods. It was draining sometimes; to be surrounded by so many privileged people who could never understand Tom's issues or struggles with money, family, muggles, etc. He and Harrison shared many similarities, now that he thought about it.
Tom wasn't ashamed to say that he actually enjoyed these sorts of exchanges with Harrison, and wouldn't be opposed to having more of them. Light, intellectual teasing was something he often found himself missing. Stimulation; that's what he wanted. Someone not easily intimidated. Harrison certainly fit that bill.
Perhaps he would be useful for something other than visions.
"Tom!"
His attention was snapped back to Walburga.
"Tom, you're awfully clever. What do you think will end all this, this…" Walburga flapped her hands in search of the term. "…Unpleasantness?"
"You mean the war?"
"Yes, exactly."
"I think," Tom picked his words carefully. "That a situation on this scale needs to be handled with diplomacy. Subtlety. Espionage is, of course, a very useful tool to avoid direct conflict-"
"What bullshit!" Harrison scoffed. The table went very quiet. "That's such a Slytherin answer!"
Tom saw several people around the table bristle and look hostile. Even Orion appeared offended.
"You would do well to remember your audience," Atticus threatened lowly. "And your own house. Or someone might remind you."
Tom held in his groan of exasperation. Avery never had learnt delicacy.
"That's not what I…" Harrison trailed off, looking taken aback at their reactions. "Look, there is such a thing as being too much of one house- or a trait if you want to call it that. Being cunning is all well and good, but you need some bravery in there too. Espionage," he said, gesturing at Tom. "Is fine, but what do you do with that knowledge? Blackmail people until no one knows who has the upper hand anymore? These people don't listen to 'diplomacy'. You need to strike fast and hard, be direct, and take them down," he said hotly.
Tom wondered if Harrison realised that he was slowly rising to his feet.
"Yes, you need cunningness for planning, and spying and everything; but not everything gets solved by talking things through. Whilst you 'avoid direct conflict', people fight for their lives. Whilst you use 'subtlety', people are dying."
Harrison, Tom noticed, was a very good speechmaker.
"You speak with such experience, as if you know how to end this war," Atticus said silkily, getting up himself.
"Maybe I do," Harrison stood taller.
"I wonder who taught you. Your dead parents?"
"At least mine went down fighting for a cause," Harrison said, hatred painted on every feature.
"At least mine have lives left with which to fight." Atticus crossed his arms. "Your solution is to, what? Throw wizarding soldiers at the Dark Lord until he's overwhelmed? How many will die then, hm? How many precious magical lives will we lose?"
Druella joined in now. "But how many innocents are already dying, whilst politicians hide behind legislation?"
"It's only the muggles that are dying-"
"Have you even read the news?" Harrison exploded. "Twenty wizards and witches dead, caught up in the crossfire or attacked in their own homes by sympathisers! And besides, muggles' lives aren't worth any less!"
"Aren't worth any less?" Atticus laughed cruelly. "Two people are held at wandpoint: a muggle and a wizard. Which one would you save?"
"Neither. I'd go for the bastard holding them."
"What a very noble answer," Atticus mocked. "Shame that whilst you were doing that, the wizard and the muggle died."
"And where would you be, Avery, during this dramatic interchange?" Druella hummed.
"At home."
"What a very cowardly answer," Harrison spat.
"He's a filthy mudblood!" Montgomery cackled. "His opinion means nothing! He's dirt! Why don't you run back to your disgusting parents and curl up next to them in the coffin?"
Harrison's skin was pale as a sheet, and he seemed to have lost the ability to speak. Tom suspected it was a very thin thread that kept him from cursing his opponents where they stood. He trembled for a moment, turned definitely, and stamped out of the door. Orion's eyes darted around, and then he followed after him like a startled rabbit.
"No," Montgomery whined faintly, tracking their progress with distant eyes. "Take me with you…"
There was a pause as the door to the pub swung shut. The noise of the pub continued around them. It was almost shocking, Tom pondered, that the world hadn't come to a halt in those last few moments. But it carried on like nothing had happened.
"Lestrange, that was very inappropriate!" Walburga hissed angrily, fixing Montgomery with a scorching glare. He sunk back down into his chair, whimpering slightly. Walburga could be quite intimidating when she wished it.
"And Avery!" she continued furiously, turning her attention onto the instigator. "Harrison's a trauma survivor. What made you think bringing up his dead parents would be a good idea?"
"He insulted the entirety of Slytherin house!" Atticus countered, drawing himself up to his full height.
"Oh you know he didn't meant it like that," Walburga dismissed icily. "And I can't say I disagreed with his points. Some of the arguments you used, however, sounded borderline Grindelwald-supporter."
"Don't be ridiculous. None of us are fond of muggles, but a Grindelwald supporter…" Avery blustered, looking around for support. "A stupid idea. Well, I suppose you can't expect anything else from a woman, can you?"
All eyes turned to Druella, who smiled. It wasn't a nice smile. "Say that again?" she said slowly.
"Well, it's not like you'd be the one sent off to fight if the Ministry started subscripting, is it?" Rupert piped up foolishly. In a battle of wits between Druella and Rupert, Tom knew who he'd put his money on.
"But it's not like the Ministry isn't doing anything already," Abraxas Malfoy pointed out smoothly. Goodness, Tom had forgotten he even existed. "I'm sure we all remember that Hector Fawley was foisted from his position just a few years ago, in favour of a more… decisive leader."
"And look how much he's done," Druella snorted. "We all know the only reason Grindelwald isn't arriving on our shores this instant is because of Dumbledore-"
"Maybe the Dark Lord should arrive," Lucian Nott rumbled, confirming the rumour that he could speak.
Tension was rising, Tom decided to step in.
"Everyone needs to calm down," Tom announced. As if by magic, he had complete attention upon him. "This is a very trying time for the magical community. We run the risk of irreparable offense, should be continue. Let's just have our drinks, yes?"
Tom, as usual, had the final word; and the group cautiously went back to sipping at their drinks sullenly, but the atmosphere was tense. Well, Harrison had quite managed to ruin a nice day out, Tom thought grimly.
Tom had found that Purebloods tended not to enjoy discussing their political stances in public, or amongst those they might not find favour with. They instead displayed them subtly (or not subtly, in Avery's case), through comments and the like. It was useful, because Tom found that he never had to say where he stood, just keep control of the situation.
And where did he stand? Truthfully, nowhere in particular, although he leaned more towards the anti-Grindelwald stance. Tom held no sympathy for muggles, the Orphanage had prevented that, but he was logical enough to realise that his childhood experience was not representative of all muggles. He was also logical enough to know that muggle were not the harmless creatures that people like Walburga seemed to think they were, nor the monsters that others considered them. They were people, plain and simple. Just people, no matter how distasteful.
Tom also didn't appreciate the mindless violence of Grindelwald's movement, nor did he appreciate the idea of being ruled. Tom was content just to sit back and watch it all play out without being involved.
He just wished that were entirely possible. It was difficult to 'sit back and watch' in the muggle orphanage, with the air raids, and the bombs, and the teeth-rattling explosions that rocked buildings and sent dust scattering into your eyes. It was hard to breathe sometimes, from the debris and the heart palpitations that came from knowing any moment could be your last. He could die unknown in a filthy dump, surrounded by whining idiots. He could be torn to bits, and no one would be able to piece him together enough to even know who he was-
Tom inhaled deeply, and took a deep sip of water. It was fine. He had a whole year until he had to go back. The war would be over by then.
Harry marched down the street on his way back to the castle, muttering under his breath angrily. He couldn't believe what had just happened. Avery was practically singing Grindelwald's praises! Thank Merlin for Druella. It was just another reminded that these were future Death Eaters he was laughing and pranking with… And he'd just agreed to be civil with the biggest Death Eater of them all.
"He's not Voldemort, he's not Voldemort," Harry murmured soothingly to himself, feet thumping on the pavement. "He wasn't even joining in with that bullshit."
He heard pattering footsteps behind him, and a familiar voice. "Wait… wait!"
"I don't want to hear it, Orion!" he yelled behind him, not slowing down.
"Just let me say something- wait!"
Reluctantly, Harry slowed to a walk, and he heard the panting sounds of Orion drawing close.
"Just… stop."
Suddenly, Harry was spun around by a hand grabbing his elbow; and he came face to face with Orion. Or, face to chest, as Orion was quite a bit taller than him.
"I don't want to talk to you, Orion," Harry glared.
Orion pouted. "I'm sorry I didn't say anything-"
"No!" Harry objected. "How could you sit there and listen to that- that crap!? That anti-muggle nonsense! They're people, Orion!"
"I know!" the other boy said quickly. And then, in response to Harry's doubtful look, "Honestly, I know. I'm scared of muggles, I am, but I've been trying to be more open minded since you told about them. And I would never support Grindelwald and his violence. It wasn't right what they said to you, but, Harry…"
"Yes?" Harry asked coolly.
"You don't make it very easy to talk to you. You just sort of blow up- and I know you were provoked!" Orion said hurriedly, after Harry opened his mouth to protest. "But this is Slytherin. You have to remember who you're talking to. Sometimes people's minds can't be changed, and you're not going to do it by shouting at them. They've been raised to think like this since birth; you're just creating more enemies."
Orion winced, closed his eyes, and held his breath like he expected Harry to erupt, and that was the thing that broke Harry out of his haze.
"You're right," Harry admitted in a breath.
Orion cracked an eyelid open cautiously.
"I'm not going to apologise to Avery and his cronies, because they were spewing prejudice rubbish back there but… I didn't handle it well. I'm sorry." Harry smoothed down his fringe anxiously. "I've been on edge, I guess, since the whole boggart thing. I thought I got over it this morning, but I obviously didn't."
"Yeah," Orion's lips twitched. "I haven't been myself either."
"It was a pretty stupid teaching move."
"It was!" Orion exchanged. "I mean, think about your audience!"
The two boys laughed, long and hard, until there were tears leaking from their eyes. Orion stepped closer, and Harry let him.
"Your friends… the dead ones, shown by the boggart," Orion ventured. "Were they… muggles?"
"Muggleborn, one of them." Harry pondered. "Two of them were pureblood. I guess… I guess I don't know everyone else's blood status."
"That's amazing," Orion said in awe.
"Not really," Harry dismissed, but he wasn't in the mood to get into another debate over morals. "Let's go back to the castle, it's freezing out here-"
"TIME PIECES! GET YOUR TIME PIECES! MANIPULATE TIME WITH THE FLICK OF A WRIST!"
The cry came from a side alley that managed to look dark and dingy even in the white light of late afternoon. Harry was immediately intrigued, by the call that seemed to answer all his problems. He felt the warm light of hope flicker in his chest. Harry knew, logically, that anything this mysterious person was selling would be a useless rip-off, but still…
"I'm just going to check that out," Harry murmured, patting Orion's forearm blindly, still staring into the murky depths of the alley.
"That? But… it's a dirty old alley."
"I just want to see what she's selling."
"They're probably just broken watches. If you want to spend more time in Hogsmeade, we could go back to Honeydukes- Harry!"
But Harry was already walking into the half-light, crow cawing menacingly above him. The flap of wings only added to the slightly eerie atmosphere. He ran a hand along the ragged, rough bricks that pressed close to him either side, and heard Orion hurrying after him.
"You can stay behind if you want to," Harry offered, because he wasn't going to be responsible for dragging another friend into a mess if he could help it.
"This is actually quite exciting," Orion admitted, beginning to bounce behind Harry. "It's like an adventure. I've always wanted one."
Harry let out a bark of laughter. "I've had enough of those to last me a lifetime."
They were making quick progress and drawing close to the yells. The passage was long though, and Harry wondered how it all fit into the back streets of Hogsmeade. Perhaps it was an illusion; his anticipation exaggerating things- or perhaps it was just magic.
They finally turned around the last twist in the alley and stumbled into a small courtyard, blinking in the artificial light. Then they saw her. She was a buxom, tall witch, standing next to a comically small stall. Her dirty blonde hair was cut to a short bob, and her cheeks and lips were rouged with some sort of powder, but every other feature was left bare. Her dress was so low cut that Harry was surprised he couldn't see her knees, and she wore a rather beautiful cloak around her shoulders.
She looked, Harry thought, a little odd.
"Cat!" Orion declared delightedly, and Harry glanced around to see him scurrying after a small feline body, disappearing further into the shadows.
At least Harry could browse unobserved.
"'Ello love," the witch greeted with a low, husky voice. "What you looking for?"
She must be very proud of her wares, Harry theorised, as her chest seemed to be inflating with pride.
"You were, er, yelling about time pieces?" Harry scratched the back of his neck uncomfortably.
"I was, yes," she said slowly, fluttering her eyelids. Maybe she had something stuck in her eye.
"Do you have anything that could go, y'know, forwards in time?"
The witch's smile dropped, and the way she eyed Harry was surprisingly flinty. He felt like he was being judged, like she was looking into his very soul. He didn't know what she was looking for, but she could probably give Albus Dumbledore a run for his money.
Suddenly, her smile appeared again; and her whole appearance changed. The cloak was drawn closer around her, she stood with more of a hunch, and the hair fell into her eyes. "I think I got jus' the thing, love," she told him gently, and began rummaging around in the drawer beneath her stall.
The table of wares she had wasn't what Harry would call 'extensive'. A few necklaces, a few rings, and some very suspicious looking gold teeth; but not much. The drawer beneath it sounded much more varied, and there were dozens of distinct clanks and clinks as she searched.
"'Ere we go," she announced, pulling out a pendant on a long silver chain. "This'll do the trick."
Harry leaned in closer. The pendant in question was a deep, shimmery blue; the kind of colour the ocean wished it could be. It was dotted with golden flecks of colour, and if Harry looked close enough, he could swear something was moving within it.
"What is it?" he asked in a low voice, eyes wide.
"This 'ere is a time pendant. Bit of a naff name, I know, but it fits. It's a bit like that Ravenclaw one; with the fancy name-" Harry remembered reading about that, "-But this one does the same job, no fuss needed. Got essence of time beetle, innit? Y'jus' put it on," she rested the amulet against her breasts, "And think about the time you want, right? It's one use only, mind, so I haven't tested it. But I trust my source." She winked.
That sounded perfect, if it worked.
"How much?" Harry asked eagerly.
"It's bit of a rare piece, so the price is steep. But well worth it, I reckon. One galleon, ten sickles."
Harry paid as quickly as he could, and slipped it into his pocket. It was lucky he did, because Orion came bounded around the corner a second later.
"The cat got away," he offered in explanation, but he didn't seem too disappointed.
"Thank you," Harry told the witch heavily, and she gave him a grin.
"Thanks for y'service 'n' all. Be careful, loves!" she called after them, as they began walked back towards the main street.
"Did you buy anything?" Orion said curiously.
"No," Harry lied, putting his hand into his pocket and clutching the amulet in the palm of his hand. "Like you said, it was all rubbish."
Later that night, Harry sat cross-legged on his bed, curtains drawn around him, staring nervously at the jewellery in his hand. This could be it. The solution to all his troubles might have just dropped out of the sky and landed in his lap.
His heart was pounding in his chest.
Harry wondered if he ought to say goodbye to Orion first, or Druella or Walburga- maybe even Tom, now that they were on better terms. Harry snorted. Saying goodbye to Tom Riddle. Ha.
He would miss Orion though. He'd miss his enthusiasm, and his kindness and his- Merlin, Harry had only known him for a month or so.
He might as well do it now, Harry decided, nodded to himself. Yeah. He shouldn't make the DA wait any longer.
Harry placed the amulet around his neck, and let memories of his time flood his mind. Ron, Hermione, Hogwarts, hell, even the Dursleys.
He felt a swinging, swaying sensation; a prickle of heat along his spine; and then it all went black.
Chapter otherwise known as; Harry encounters a prostitute, and doesn't notice.
ANYONE ELSE SHIPPING WALBURGA/DRUELLA? How did this happen? I was in my writing haze, stopped and realised 'this is very gay' (in all the best ways.) So I went with it.
The magical war effort at this moment in time: the Muggles are doing most of the direct fighting, and a few magicals are being caught up the bombings, and there are some hate crimes from Grindelwald supporters etc, but Magical Britain has mostly stayed out of it. The Ministry is trying to negotiate with Grindelwald and some other countries, but there's no fighting force or direct opposition. Grindelwald is still focussing on subduing other countries, but he's creeping closer to Britain, and the Ministry is doing very little about it.
Also: Harry is such an argumentative little bean. He's like 'fight me'.
There are more people in this little group who are Grindelwald supporters than say so, as openly supporting a murderer is a big social no no.
There is a LOT of conflict in this fic, but I think you have to keep in mind the times. There's a lot to be in conflict about. Harry's new and weird, the war is escalating, and they're all only a couple of years off graduating and being thrown into a war torn adult world. It's scary as shit, really.