A/N: Okay, some mistakes on my part.
1.) Tom and Harry are both 17, as in Seventh Year
2.) Dumbledore is deputy-headmaster, and a professor
3.) Some idgitt who created the quick edit made it to where the system didn't upload the dot-dot-dots. So, the †sign, that meant "..." and then on some places it wouldn't load at all. Made me a bit upset that I didn't notice is sooner, sorry.
Also, as a final note, I did repost an Inuyasha story. Just go to my bio and please take a moment to read it. There's only one chapter, and it's short.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
When the Clock Defies the Time
And you're not thinking about tomorrow
'Cause you were the same as me
But on your knees
A thousand other boys could never reach you
How could I have been the one
I saw the world spin beneath you
And scatter like ice from the spoon
That was your world
Comin' down the world turned over
And angels fall without you there
And I go on as you get colder
Or are you someone's prayer
You know the lies that they always told you
And the love you never knew
What's the things they never showed you
That swallowed the light from the sun
Goo Goo Dolls-Black Balloon slightly altered
Chapter Three: On this Side of Time
Harry's eyes grew wide as he saw the Common Room of Snakes. The room was warm from the single blazing fireplace; there were black leather sofas with dark green and silver blankets on their backs, throw pillows, and oriental rugs. The walls were of course grey stone, as was the entire castle, but tapestries hung from them, along with portraits of former Slytherin Greats. There were two halls off from the entrance platform, i.e. meaning where Harry was standing there were three steps descending to the fireplace and the sitting areas.
Tom, who had been sitting in an armchair by the fire, rose quickly and walked over to them, a look of relief on his face.
"Professor," he said solemnly, inclining his head.
For a moment, Harry took in the Tom Riddle, Voldemort. It struck Harry as astounding, that this person who had shown him such kindness would become a rampaging murderer out for his blood. Harry couldn't place whether or not if he was being tricked, normally that was the first thing he would search for, lies. He'd become very good at it, but Tom made it seem as if he had no skill at all.
"Tom, as you are Head Boy," Dumbledore said; "I have issued that a second bed be established within your chambers, so that Harry won't have to bother with strangers just yet."
"Of course, Professor," Tom replied, though his tone showed his utter surprise of the statement. Not that he minded, no, he was quite okay with the matter, but to think that Harry would readily trust him was a surprise. Not many trusted him, not after last year's incident. He doubted if his few friends did, but they were still around him so it didn't matter much. But Harry probably, if not likely, knew nothing, so of course Tom shouldn't have been as surprised as he was.
"Wonderful that you've agreed; now, Harry," the aging wizard faced the younger, his eyes serious; "You are an exchange student from Beauxbatons, understood? The faculty and students will be told this, so this secret is between you, I, Tom, Marcus, and I am considering Poppy. Is this satisfactory?"
"Yes, Professor," Harry said; "But, I don't have any clothing..."
"Don't you know it's Friday?" Tom asked; "Tomorrow, we could go to Hogsmead, or if you aren't up to that, just borrow some of my things."
"Well, Tom has come up with solutions," Dumbledore said, smiling kindly; "Now, I will leave you two, and remember, no one will know, Harry, unless you choose to tell them. But I warn you, some people cannot be trusted with such information;" the statement was low and grim, but Dumbledore's mood swung back to pleasant as he smiled; "Good eve to you both."
Harry and Tom watched as the Deputy-Headmaster departed, then Harry looked at Tom. Why had he offered that? It was something Harry had not expected at all, and to hear it come from Voldemort's very mouth...
/This is Tom/ he told himself. /Not Voldemort, Tom.../ he sighed, and looked away.
"Harry," Tom said; "What's wrong? You seem... out of sorts..."
Harry knew that he was probably coming off as a bit shaken, in fact he was very taken aback by all of this, not to mention furious with certain Slytherins of the future. He was contemplating on how he would possibly survive his time here, let alone surviving his ultimate adversary and the future Dark Lord of Tomorrow.
"Come, it's apparent that you need rest," Tom said, ushering for Harry to follow him. Harry nodded, rubbing his temples as he followed the Slytherin Head Boy. Harry followed him down the left corridor, and the soon traveled to the very end. Tom stopped in front of an old, oaken door that was seemingly guarded by two statues of snakes, Harry vaguely being reminded of a pair of basilisks.
"Est conforme au juste," Tom said, glancing at Harry with a smirk before the snake statues hissed and the oak door opened.
"Conform to the just," Harry mumbled, before following. He had gained a new sense of reckoning; perhaps Tom Riddle had a demon, one that would consume him and let his name be known.
The Head Boy's chambers were actually like that of a flat, or so it seemed. There was a small kitchenette in the corner, complete with a table, counter space, and icebox. There was a small den, a fireplace, a personal archive of books along the far wall, and two doors at the opposite back wall of the door. Harry looked around at the warm blacks, silvers, and greens.
"Well, it's not much," Tom said as he began walking over to the door on the left; "This leads to the bathroom, while this one," he walked over to the door on the right, and opened it; "Is the bed chambers..." he peered inside; "And it seems that a bed has indeed been procured..." he looked at Harry; "Suppose this will be your home for a time..."
"Err, right," Harry said, absently running his hands over each other, wringing them together as he looked around the room, at the high ceilings... the sconces... the portraits... the statues...
"Harry?" Tom asked, finally snapping Harry from his thoughts.
"Hmm?" Harry asked dully, looking at Tom and blinking slowly. He suddenly had to yawn, and could not restrain it.
"You're tired, come on," Tom said, walking in.
Harry followed, a part of him screaming to just kill the bastard-to-be while he had the chance. But he went into the room, not surprised when he saw that it was dark and warm. There was a desk, two bookshelves, a door open and apparently leading to a closet, and then there were the twin canopy beds, one on each side of the room. Harry could tell which one was his; the one to the right was crisp and new, magical afterglow from evident transport, or transfiguration. He sighed, content with knowing he'd be sleeping somewhere other than a floor or sofa.
During this time, Tom had disappeared into the closet, returning with two set of pajamas, on for him and the other for Harry. Harry turned and watched Tom, eyeing the black set with interest.
"A dark fan, are we?" Tom asked, smirking as he tossed the bundle. Harry deftly caught it midair, completely breaking from his still standing and rushing a good ten feet to do so. "Ah, and a Quidditch player," Tom said matter-of-factly, setting the dark green set on his own bed.
"How could you tell?" Harry asked, though he knew the answer. He went over to his bed, drew back the curtains, and sat down on it, facing Tom and watching the other wizard intently.
"Well, it's obvious for your reflexes," Tom said, a little arrogant of his knowledge.
Harry only smirked and shook his head, continuing to gaze. He knew it made Tom uneasy, for the other teen coughed distractedly and stood, taking the pajamas with him; "I'll just be a moment," he said; "You may change out here, if you wish.." thus said, he exited the room.
Harry waited until he heard the bathroom door close, then he jumped off and hurriedly took his clothing off. He then put on the soft, silk pajamas, buttoning the shirt up just as Tom entered, he doing the same.
"Where are your clothes?" Harry asked, seeing no robe had come with the other teen.
"Oh, dirty clothes hamper," Tom replied simply; "Well, you don't expect me to leave clothing lying around, do you?" He asked at Harry's sudden look of mild surprise.
"Do people wash them for you?" Harry asked, sitting down.
"As a matter of fact, house elves do," Tom replied, going over to the desk. He sifted through several papers, then froze. He looked back up at Harry; "I just noticed something..." he murmured, eyes intent on Harry.
"What?" Harry asked, appearing unbothered by the statement. But inside, he was growing wary. His wand hand twitched as magic began to flow freely, a need to defend growing in the back of the young wizard's mind.
Slowly, Tom walked over, and Harry leaned back as he suddenly found the Slytherin in front of him, barely a breath away. Harry knew what Tom was staring at; his scar. He mentally sighed and waited, and finally, Tom's eyes traveled downward to meet his.
"Where did it come from?" he asked, backing away slightly.
"A battle," Harry said simply, hoping Tom would stay off the subject.
"It's old, though," Tom said, perplexed; "It's a magical scar, isn't it?" he asked, far too quietly for Harry's comfort level.
Silently, Harry nodded. Tom nodded; "The future is not very well, am I safe to say?" he asked.
Harry was silent; "There's a war going in, when I left, that is," he looked down.
"I feel like I know you, Harry," Tom suddenly said, sitting down; "It's the strangest feeling I've ever experienced. One moment, I want to befriend you, then, I want to... to kill you... it's all very confusing," he said; "And all of this in under two hours!" he said exasperatedly, looking at Harry again.
Harry stared at the jade orbs, seeing the crimson ring around the pupil. "I couldn't tell you, Tom," he finally managed; "I couldn't. I can't say why I—"
"I don't care about the bloody scar," Tom muttered darkly, rising; "You know me, in your time," he said, turning and facing Harry again; "You do..." he added, voice barely above that of a whisper.
"Maybe," Harry said, now very aware of what he said; "I might just look like someone you know."
"You do," Tom said; "You look like Potter..." he fell back to his bed, the backs of his legs hitting the mattress, causing him to sit. He shook his head and rubbed his eyes; "I should have expected this;" he mumbled; "It's only obvious," he calmed, and looked at Harry; "Sorry," he said; "I'm normally not like this at all. It's just... this is astounding..."
"A lot of people are saying that," Harry muttered, rolling his eyes; "Sorry if I seem a little apathetic. I'm a little furious at the moment..."
"You don't appear to be," Tom said, more musing than anything else.
"Better me this way, than the entire castle and all of its occupants turned to dust," Harry said, crossing his arms as he settled back.
"You couldn't possibly have that kind of power," Tom said, unbelieving.
"Don't bother trying," Harry said, "Tom, I'd hate for you to get hurt. Then where would I be with no one to trust."
"Trust s a valuable thing, Harry," Tom said; "Why would you trust me?"
"Hmm, who says that I do?" Harry asked apathetically, getting up; "Tom, let's just stick to being acquaintances for a while, okay? I have to catch up with the times before anything else..." he walked around and climbed under the warm blankets.
"Don't expect for this matter to be over," Tom said, climbing into bed as well.
Harry did not sleep until he knew that Tom was fast away in slumber. He rolled over onto his other side, and as he slowly fell asleep, he remembered thinking. /What the hell has happened.../
"Hey Tom, who's this?"
"Yes, Tom, do enlighten us! Come on, you lazy sod, wake up!"
"Can't you see I'm trying to sleep in here!"
"Come on, it's nearly ten! Let's go, Tom!"
"Oh, bloody hell, Romulus, do shut up..."
"Does anyone not notice the stranger in the second bed?"
"Hello, did any one of you learn how to use a door!"
"Up and at 'em, Riddle! Come on, let's go!""
Harry, eyes still closed, mentally laughed as he heard a thud and a loud curse word. He slowly opened his eyes, and shouted out as he was met with a pair of brown ones. In a flash Harry's hand had flown out to wrap around the neck of the person before him, and he shoved them away roughly.
"Bloody Fuck! Don't do that ever again!" Harry warned dangerously, catching his breath and his eyes darting around.
He automatically noticed blonde hair, hair so blonde it was almost white, with pallid skin and grey eyes to go with it. Harry knew immediately who this person was, and it only took a single word; "Malfoy," he said, a hint of bitterness.
"Ooh Tom how does he know my name?" the apparent Malfoy asked, his tone that of a curious and aristocratic person.
"Damn, does anyone care that I'm on the floor?"
Recognizing that voice, Harry looked over the edge of his bed. He thought he was staring at a seventeen year old version of Sirius Black, but he was mistaken. It couldn't be Sirius, it never would be, rational thought had brutally kicked down Harry's mindless hope yet again.
"Sorry," Harry mumbled, "Shocked me a bit."
"And I doubt that he didn't deserve it," came a remark Harry had heard earlier. Leaning against the door was a literal Adonis copy of Severus Snape, casual yet bored look suggesting he would rather be elsewhere.
"Oh of course you would say that, Selred, being the pacifist," the young man on the floor grumbled as he rose; "Ow, my poor head," he moaned, rubbing his temple gingerly.
"Okay, hold on!" Tom finally said, loudly and hinting irritation; "All of you, in the living room! GO!" he ordered.
"Not until you introduce us to this boy here," another, who had spoken earlier, said. Harry looked at him. Black hair cropped and bangs hanging loosely around his eyes, vivid blue eyes so dark they were almost black, a Lestrange by any other name.
"Fine," Tom said; "Harry, meet the Slytherin Quartet who act as though they own the place. This is Aldrich Malfoy, Roderick Lestrange, Selred Snape, and Romulus Black. Everyone, this is Harry Tomelson."
"From Beauxbatons," Harry finished, eliciting snickers from Aldrich and Romulus; "What?" Harry asked, dangerously.
"We've heard stories of guys from that school!" Romulus said, between his snickering.
"Oh? Well, this place isn't exactly pure and holy," Harry said sarcastically; "I've heard worse than those stupid rumors of my school."
"Oh, so you are gay, and openly kiss other men in public?" Romulus asked quirkily.
"No, you ponce," Harry said; "I'm straight and openly kiss girls in public. Gods, have your ears cleaned, will you?"
Romulus rolled his eyes and Aldrich laughed; "You're quite the character, Harry, I think you'll fit in just fine," he turned to Tom, who had since climbed back into bed; "Oh, come on now, Tom! Let's go to Hogsmead! It's a waste of a Saturday to sleep!"
"Didn't I say for you all to go into the living room?" Tom nearly growled out from underneath the pillow, where he had tucked his head in an attempt to block out the noise.
"Come on, guys, before he hexes us," Selred said, walking out of the room.
Romulus up and followed him as well, leaving Aldrich and Roderick to snicker at the Black before they too, left. Tom groaned, rubbing his face with his hands. Harry shook his head as he rose, and stretched.
"You're quite good at lying," Tom commented as Harry picked up his slacks.
"Hmm? Oh, thanks, I guess," Harry replied; "It's just a talent, I suppose..."
"A talent that will take you far in life," Tom said; "Well, I'm off to the showers. Um... if you'd prefer to dress in clean clothing, feel free to find a shirt of mine if you want," he went into the closet, returning with clothing under his arm and a bag in his other; "You could bathe after me, as well," he added, then, he was gone, out the door and off.
Harry nodded, shaking his head, and again thinking /What the hell has happened.../ as he got out of the pajamas and put on his jeans. Taking up Tom's offer, Harry walked into the closet.
Harry looked around. There weren't enough clothes to fill up the walk-in, but there was enough to host a healthy choice. There were mostly dark colors; greens, reds, blacks, and deep blues. There were slacks, but Harry chose to keep his dark denim jeans. He did, however, take a liking to a silk dark green, long-sleeve shirt, and he put it on, leaving a few of the top buttons undone as was his habit. Satisfied, Harry went back into the bedroom, and put on his boots. He ran a hand through his hair, not having a brush or comb, and, after getting what tangles he could out, he tossed his head to the side, thus succeeding in making his bangs slant to the side.
Harry walked out of the bedroom, and received a catcall. He looked over, realizing that it was Romulus who had whistled, seeing as how the Black was snickering. He and Roderick were on the couch, while Selred was leaning against the wall, and Aldrich had taken to sitting in the armchair, looking like the spoiled rich child that he was. Romulus, however, was splayed over the majority of the couch, while Roderick was leaning against the armrest to avoid the legs propped on the back of the couch. Selred had his arms crossed and head bowed, eyes closed in thought.
"Well, raiding Tom's closet, I see," Aldrich drawled; "Make yourself at home, then."
"He offered," Harry said, "Besides, my luggage was subsequently destroyed after my carriage had a run-in with a dragon. I couldn't help it that all of my belongings were burned, now could I?" he asked decisively, one eyebrow rising skeptically.
"Oh, he's got you there, Aldrich!" Romulus exclaimed, barking a laugh when Aldrich had no comment to add. Aldrich merely shrugged.
"So, Harry," Roderick said, "Beauxbatons, eh? You don't sound or look French..."
"Well, I'm originally from Italy," Harry said, shrugging.
"Tomelson is not an Italian surname, though," Aldrich commented.
"My mother's British, and since my father was an immigrant, she couldn't take his name," Harry said, pausing; "She moved to Italy with him after he left and she found that she was pregnant with me."
"So, why did you end up in Beauxbatons instead of Delarosa's Institute (1)?" Romulus asked, turning his head to look at Harry.
"Well, after my parents died, I was sent to France to live with my aunt and uncle. So, I was enrolled at Beauxbatons," Harry replied. He paused; "Any other questions you'd like to ask me?"
"Yes, you are a pureblood, are you not?" Aldrich asked.
"Oh, bloody hell Aldrich of course he would be," Selred said, speaking for the first time through the entire conversation. He opened his hazel eyes, and looked at Aldrich as if staring at a dull portrait; "Why else would Tom associate with him and then why else would he be in Slytherin?"
"Well, Tom's a half-blood and he got in," Romulus mumbled, looking at the ceiling as if with great interest, even thought he was bored waiting.
"Yes, but Tom's got every other quality of a Slytherin, nitwit," Roderick said, "So, are you, Harry?" he asked, looking at said young man.
Harry sighed, dully examining the nails of his left hand as he replied; "My blood's not tainted as far as I know..."
"There you have it, now can these bloody questions end?" Selred asked, "Giving me a bloody headache, they are," he groaned.
"Well, sorry for being curious, Selred," Aldrich drawled; "Perhaps next time we'll just send owls with surveys?"
Roderick, Romulus, and Harry all tried to suppress snickers, while Selred only sneered; "Yes, do," he warned; "But make sure you spell the name's right and correctly label them all. Wouldn't want your threats to get sent to the wrong people when you sent out the rest of your mail, now would we?"
The room became deathly quiet, before Harry burst out laughing. It made him think of Snape trying to belittle Lucius, a sight that would have attracted crowds from the Americas and the Far East. The quartet stared at him, gazes of mixed emotions like that of confusion, amusement, and slight caginess. But again, Harry ignored it, clearing up his laughter and straightening up. He wiped his eyes, and looked at them all.
"Sorry," he said, cracking a smile; "It just reminds me of two idiots I know," the smile faded though, like it always did; "What? Don't you all laugh?"
"Not like that!" Romulus said, before throwing his head back and laughing the same, barking laugh.
It panged Harry's heart to hear it; the sound reminded him so much of Sirius that it caused anger to boil in his very blood. Flashes of the night Sirius died crossed Harry's vision and mind, and Harry willed them away. But the anger was still there. The malice was, as well. IT was always there, if not always underlying...
Luckily, none of the quartet had noticed; "Well," Aldrich drawled, rising; "We should best head out to—"
Before he could finish, there was a loud, sharp tapping. All looked around, and Harry spotted the creator of the noise. At the window at level with the ceiling, there was a tawny owl. It was pecking at the window vigorously, and Harry saw that it had a parcel attached to its leg.
"What the hell is that?" Tom asked as he came from the bathroom, dressed in traditional casual wear and clean cut, as usual.
Romulus pointed to the window, and Tom looked. Harry, staring at the window, held his hand up. Manipulating his fingers as if he were opening a latched door, and eyes never leaving, the window swung open, and the owl flew in, hooting indignantly as it did. The owl flew over Harry, circling around to land at his feet. Wordlessly bending down, Harry stroked the bird's head as he untied the small box from its leg, and as he stood the bird flew back up and through the window.
"That has got to be the most astounding thing I've ever seen!" Romulus exclaimed, first to be the one to recover from shock; "Harry, how the hell could you do that? And without a wand!" he gasped, looking at Roderick, who was staring at Harry as though he were staring at a ghost.
"Well with no wand what was I supposed to do?" Harry asked as he inspected the box. He went over to the couch, Romulus jumping up to give him space. Harry glanced at him, and as he looked back at the package the others gathered around him.
Harry opened the box, to find a small scroll atop a small pouch. Taking the scroll, Harry quickly read it.
Dear Harry,
Within the pouch is money to tide you over until your stay comes to an end. Do not worry about repaying me, that will be worked out once we have contacted your guardians in France. In the mean time, you have been officially placed in Slytherin, and your class schedule shall follow Mister Riddle's. Books are being brought in for you as we speak, and they should be in by evening. I suggest you buy clothing, as your luggage, consequently, did not complete the journey with you.
Best of luck to you,
Albus Dumbledore
Harry snorted as he read the letter, then set it aside; "Well, how much money is there?" Roderick asked.
Harry took the silk bag out of the box, and opened it. He gasped. Gold glittered up to his emerald eyes, silver as well. "Look at that," Romulus commented; "Looks like Dumbledore sent you galleons and sickles."
"Yeah, he did," Harry said, taking a galleon from the bag; "Perhaps this won't be such a bad stay after all," he smirked, looking around at them all; "So, you all have a tavern, correct?"
The Slytherins all exchanged looks of mirth, and Aldrich was the first to reply; "Of course we do," he drawled; "Where else would we spend our weekends?"
"To the Three Broomsticks, then!" Romulus said happily, "Come on, you lot, let's go! Harry buys the first ten rounds!"
They laughed, and Harry said; "I don't think so. Perhaps the first round, but the first ten? Wouldn't you pass out from that many Butterbeers?"
"Now you see, Harry," Tom said; "Romulus and Roderick both hold the records of twenty-seven Butterbeers each. They could go through fifty rounds before it got to them."
"Then it's settled!" Aldrich said richly; "To Hogsmead!"
TBC
A/N
Well, there you have it!
(1) ummm just a place I made up.
Review if you like!