A/N: THANKS FOR THE REVIEWS! I LOVE YOU ALL!
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
When the Clock Defies the Time
Chapter Six: To Dance with Fate, What a Temptation
Sunday went by smoothly and slowly. Harry spent most of the day in the library, memorizing his class schedule and reading some textbooks. Tom and the others stopped by on occasion, but mostly, Harry stayed alone, finding a room on the third floor with a pleasant view of the lake. Around dinner, he decided to pack up, and he ran his things down to his room.
When he opened the door, he found the main room empty, and the bedroom was empty as well. Harry wondered where his roommate had gotten to, but shrugged it off as he put his things away. He made his way to the Great Hall, but things seemed too quiet as he walked through the dungeons, until he caught whispers floating down to his ear. He hid behind a statue, just shy of the stairs leading up to the surface.
"Now, now, Albus! I'm just off to see the boy for a moment! It's not everyday someone falls through a mirror!"
"Please, keep your voice down, Horace. The others do not know of how the boy arrived."
"Well, I'll just drop down for a bit—"
A sigh; "Don't badger him."
"Oh, pish-posh, Albus! It's only for a moment!"
And around the corner came the man Harry knew only as Slughorn, younger, but still round in the middle. Harry sighed inaudibly and stepped out from behind the statue, and Slughorn's smile broadened.
"There he is!" the man said cheerily, "So tell me…"
Albus rounded the corner, looking thoroughly tried of the man; "Horace, please," he said, but he smiled when he saw Harry; "Ah… good morning, Harry. Have you adjusted well?"
"Very, thank-you, Professor," Harry said, eyes going from one wizard to the next; "And who are you…?" he asked with mock curiosity.
"Oh! Slughorn, Horace Slughorn," the man said, taking Harry's hand from his side and shaking it. Harry eventually pulled his hand away, taking a step back.
"Do forgive my associate, Harry," Albus said apologetically, running his hand down his face.
"It's quite alright," Harry said slowly, through gritted teeth.
"So, what time do you come from, exactly?" Slughorn asked.
"Uh…" Harry began, but Albus said over him; "I'm sure that's not important, Horace! See, you are already badgering him."
"Oh, ignore him, m'boy!" Slughorn said, throwing his arm over Harry's shoulders and guiding Harry along ash e began to walk towards the stairs; "So tell me, what is the future like? Judging by your hair and you general lack of respect I can only assume you aren't from years past!" he laughed heartily.
"Uh… I'd say I'm definitely not familiar with this generation," Harry said, edging out of the arm around him.
Slughorn turned and faced him; "M'boy, you can tell me! Forgive an aging man for being curious. Say, do you know me?"
The man seemed absolutely agitated with curiosity, and it was unnerving Harry; "I uh…" Harry began stepping back.
"Professor Slughorn! Why are you bothering my roommate, eh?"
The good-natured comment came from behind, and Harry turned to see Tom walking over to them; "Ah, Riddle!" Slughorn said, patting tom on the back; "So you're rooming with this mysterious character?"
"Yes, I am," Tom said with a smirk, then he looked at Harry; "Sleep well, Harry?"
Harry smiled, walking over to tom and quickly whispering; "Help!" in his ear.
Tom laughed good-naturedly; "It seems I need to help Harry find the library, Professor," he said to Slughorn; "But I'll see you tomorrow evening at the meeting?"
"Of course, and do bring your friend!" Slughorn called as they began walking away.
Once they had begun walking up the stairs Harry let out a sigh; "Thanks," he said to Tom; "I owe you one."
"Yes, well, I saw you and I had to agree that Slughorn is a tad overbearing," Tom said with a smirk; "So, still need help finding the library?"
"What were you up to today?" Harry asked, stopping and looking at Tom.
Tom stopped as well, turned and faced him; "Attending to business of the private nature," he replied smoothly.
"That's a lie," Harry said.
"Of course it is," Tom retorted; "I don't feel like answering that question."
"Why not?" Harry asked, stepping closer.
"Well, it is my business, not yours," Tom said, stepping ever closer.
"Lovers don't keep secrets from each other," Harry whispered, watching as Tom slightly shivered as his breath ghosted across Tom's ear.
"Ah, but you see, dear Harry, Lovers are just that to each other and nothing more," Tom whispered, and Harry willed his heart not to sink; "Nothing but privacy for lovers."
"What were you doing?" Harry asked again.
Tom sighed; "Research…"
"About…?"
"Things, and that is all I am willing to tell you," Tom said, stepping away; "Care to accompany me to the try-outs?" He asked.
"Sure," Harry said, resigning against getting any other information.
Tom smirked; "Well then, we should head down to the stadium, shouldn't we?"
Harry shrugged; "Actually, I'll catch up with you later," he said; "I uh, need to catch up on the lessons for tomorrow."
Tom arched an eyebrow; "Well, okay then," he said; "See you."
"Yeah," Harry said, watching Tom's back steadily recede as the teen walk away from him; "See you…" the whisper was faint, neglected of feeling.
A quiet spot was all Harry needed before he sank in to the textbooks scattered on the table around him. As he skimmed the pages he realized how much was left out that he already knew. But he only read what was given and didn't try for more. The sun shown on the yellowed pages and made them gold; the room's musty smell seemed oddly comforting. He felt secluded, cut off from the world around him, the time he had left behind. In the small study in the library he could pretend that he were back home, quietly studying while his friends and the people of his era ran around, living out their lives as he lived his.
But no one could have a life like Harry Potter, especially, not now…
A quiet thought struck Harry. Everyone he knew was non-existent. Well, mostly everyone he knew was gone. Even his godfather was but a glimmer in an eye. Harry sighed. He was homesick already. He would never get to celebrate the coming of a new century with his friends, never be able to fulfill his destiny… The thought of never returning was like a headache; throbbing, appearing and going, but there. He was desperate, in a sense, and growing worse.
He rose from his chair and left his things in the study, walking down the rows and aisles of books, scanning the spines for a promising title. But there was nothing. Letting out a sigh, Harry went back to the study and sat down with little grace. Where could he find a book worthy enough of helping him? Perhaps the Restricted Section… he thought, scanning the walls in absent thought… no, I don't have my cloak with me… hmmm that complicates things…
When he heard the sound of quick whispers, he quickly turned and watched as the door was nudged open, and a familiar head poked through the cracks. Relieved, Harry relaxed.
"Ah, Tomelson, there you are!" Aldrich droned aristocratically, waltzing in with Roderick; "Been looking all over, why weren't you at the try-outs, eh?"
"With your reflexes we were sure you would snag a spot as seeker," Roderick said, sitting down across from Harry as Aldrich did the same.
"Well, I have studies," Harry said casually; "How were the try-outs, though?"
"Oh, fair," Aldrich said; "Could have been better."
"Oh, much better," Roderick added, nodding.
"We were actually expecting you to attend, Harry," Aldrich said with a slight shrug; "But, we can't assume everything, no can we?"
Harry caught the glance each Slytherin gave to the other, and leaning back in his seat, he sighed; "What's going on?" he asked slowly, cautiously.
Aldrich leaned forward; "What is going on between you and Tom?"
"Yes, do tell us, Harry," Roderick quipped, leaning forward as well.
"I won't dignify that with an answer," Harry said.
"So you are shagging him?" Aldrich quipped, already knowing the answer.
"What, Aldrich, are you jealous?" Harry asked coyly, smirking.
Aldrich leaned back, pleased with himself; "I knew it," he said.
"Well, the remainder of what you seek is my personal business," Harry said; "Not just common knowledge."
"But, I do have a question, Harry," Roderick said, and Harry looked at him; "You're not from a pure bloodline, are you?"
Harry bowed his head for a moment, chuckling quietly. When he looked back up he was eerily calm. "Since when has blood stopped anyone from succeeding in life? Here I have made a name for myself, and only just by stepping through the front doors."
"Or though a mirror…"
Harry turned to Aldrich, arching an eyebrow; "Quite outlandish for a Malfoy, Aldrich," he commented.
"There you go, talking as if you know him!" Roderick said; "You're not normal, Tomelson, so fess up."
Harry gazed at him, unfazed; "Well, I am human, I bleed red," he said, getting up; "As far as you are concerned, I am normal," he gathered his things; "See you at Supper, gentlemen…"
Harry strode out of the room. Aldrich and Roderick were silent until certain they were alone, then they both looked at her.
"Adel was right, Aldrich! He is a flaming queer!" Roderick said.
"Thatgirlfriend of yours," Aldrich said, shaking his head; "What'll we do? He's already moved in on Riddle…"
"And we can't have that, not if we want everything to fall through…"
"Roderick, we have to be sure he is willing…"
"Tom wants power, Aldrich, you know that," Roderick insisted; "The problem is this Tomelson character…"
"Yes, he was not planned on…" Aldrich leaned back, thinking; "We could kill him."
"Kill? Aldrich, please," Roderick leaned back, a little stunned; "I don't want blood on my hands. At least, not while I'm still young…"
Aldrich was silent again; "We need to find out everything we can about Tomelson…" he whispered, nodding; "Yes… everything. How he got here, who his family is, what he is entitled to…"
"I think he has nothing, has no one. He's been lying the entire time…"
"Are you sure?"
Roderick smirked; "Of course," he said; "Legilemins hasn't failed me yet."
Aldrich smirked; "Then it's time we found out what was going on here before things spiral out of control."
Harry quickly placed his books aside on a random shelf and decided to take a stroll, in an effort to clear his head. Later on, he would have to sneak back into the library, try to get into the Restricted Section, but for now, he would try to act like his age.
As he breathed in fresh air and walked down the front steps, he had to think there was some good to his present situation. Here, he was no longer the Boy-Who-Lived; no longer was he the man holding the world on his shoulders. He was simply Harry, plain and simple. He was a seventeen year old young man. He attended an esteemed Wizarding school, and had already associated himself with the upper class of the resident social hierarchy. Already, his life was seemingly better than before.
Perhaps the fates wanted him to have a break?
Harry found himself caught by the lake again, the wind blowing against him, ruffling his hair and jacket, but it was found to be oddly comforting, like the smell of the study. Like the wind, he would be here and gone. But the wind made the best of its worth, it wanted to leave a lasting mark. That's why it bent the trees under its gales, made the grasses bow to its will, and rippled the waters to spell its glory.
Harry watched the water's surface. He thought he could faintly see mermaids beneath the surface, performing underwater acrobatics to his amusement. Their pale grey skin and dull blue fins seemed to shimmer when the light bounced off of them. Their hair, long and wavy and flowing with the current, stretched back like sails. They were underwater angels, it seemed, ethereal and majestic, tempting in the fact that they could not be touched or spoken to unless they acted out for you to do so…
Harry said down on the bank, looking over and seeing a red flower in the rush. He was perplexed for a moment about why it grew, but then, he dispelled the thought as his finger ghosted over the soft petals. Gently he plucked one by its stem, and then threw it onto the water's surface.
With fascination he watched as a pale, thin hand stretched up out of the water, fingers spreading to expose thin webbing, and long fingers wrapped around the delicate flower. The plant was dragged underwater, and Harry waited. The ripples that the hand had created slowly receded and the only sound he could hear was the wind rushing past his ears, and the occasional call of a far-off animal.
Then steadily, the same grey hand reached up, this time grabbing a hold of the bank and pulling out the slender body of an attractive young woman. Well, until her navel, at least, upon which navy and black scales took over and a fin was there instead of legs. Her long silvery hair covered her bosoms, and large, neglected black and icy blue eyes stared at Harry, fascinated by him, and possibly by the world she was banished to never be in.
Harry smiled, scooting over. "Hi," he said quietly, and the mermaid sank back into the water in fear, nose and up being the only visible, silver hair pooling around her; a cloud in the water.
"Can you understand me?" Harry asked, scooting ever closer to the water's edge.
The mermaid's head rose above the little. A little, she seemed to say, but her mouth never moved.
Harry at once knew she was speaking telepathically, and it made sense. How could one talk underwater? He mentally chided himself, but smiled nevertheless.
"What's your name?" he asked.
He watched as the mermaid brought the flower to the surface, letting the flower float on the water. She looked at Harry, mimicking his smile; Gillani(1), she replied.
"I'm Harry," Harry said; "How are you?"
Gillani looked at him, swimming up to the bank and resting against it, head resting on her folded arms though she looked at Harry; Fair, she replied; You?
Harry shrugged, "The same," he said quietly, "Gillani, do you…" he fought for the right words, then sighed; "May I talk to you? I am very confused, and…"
Gently the mermaid's hand rested on Harry's knee, oddly silky and soft, though damp, against his khakis. Harry stared at the oddly luminescent hand, how her fingers delicately stretched outward, like a fan.
You humans are always confused, Gillani said jokingly, a grin on her soft features, I will listen and help all I can…
Harry sighed, and began to tell her his story; "I'm not from here," he began, "I am confused about who is around me... what is around me!I cannot trust anything here it seems. I know some people here, but one person who I am starting to like very much… is my enemy -bad- outside of these grounds, beyond this time…"
Time? You have transcended time, yes? The mermaid asked.
Harry had not expected her to use such a word as "transcend", he had been toning down his vocabulary so that she wouldn't be confused, but now he was positive she was very intelligent, possibly smarter than he was. No wonder the Ministry gave merpeople five X's. They deserved respect.
"I have," Harry admitted; "And I could be killing someone by telling you that…" he looked down guiltily.
Gillani looked at him sympathetically; What happens, happens, Harry, she said gently, calmly, her voice echoing in his head in a motherly fashion. You cannot play God…
"God?" Harry asked, skeptical; "I wish not to discuss faith and religion, Gillani, that subject has never been flattering…"
Gillani shrugged simply, her hand leaving Harry's knee; Tell me about the school, she said, a bony finger pointy at the large castle.
Harry turned back and followed her pointing appendage for a moment, andthen looking at her he replied; "Big, confusing, boring," he summed it up simply; "Full of mysteries and secret passages, crammed full of young wizards and witches with raging hormones…"
Tinkling laughter filled his mind, and Gillani covered her mouth with her hand as she was overcome with a sudden wave of mirth. Harry smiled and chuckled; "Well, it is," he mumbled; "But… I will be leaving it, after the summer comes again…"
Oh, Gillani said, nodding; you wizard's society is very complex, no?
"Actually, yes," Harry replied, "and in the future, quite disorderly and on the verge of disrepair."
This news saddens me so, Gillani said, frowning, do you have a solution?
Harry sighed; "...I 'm the solution."
Oh, she said again, martyr?
Harry nodded; "Not by choice."
Well, not all martyr's perish, Gillani said.
"History has proven that they do," Harry muttered.
My history tells differently, then, Gillani said smoothly. It is late, Harry, I must go. This was a good conversation.
As she began to go under ,Harry said; "Wait!"
Gillani stopped, looking at him; "Um," Harry said; "Tomorrow, may I talk to you? I mean, you are the first person, well, creature, er, I mean…"
Gillani smiled; I understand your stress.
Her statement was said with such conviction that Harry had to wonder, but he never had the chance. Gillani was soon gone, her flowing hair a receding silver cloud under the water until it was swallowed in the green.
Harry rose, content at his new friend. He had never before talked with creatures from the lake. He had spoken with centaurs and giant spiders, and of course he had spoken with ghosts. But never before had he spoken with a mermaid. And she hadn't wanted anything form him, didn't need to know his life's story if he didn't honor her with it. She was open, innocent, kind.
She was real.
Since Harry had arrived in this new era, his feelings towards others around him were those of distrust and mild paranoia. The paranoia he blamed on his horrible upbringing, nights wasting away under the stairs and he had become petrified of unknown, foreign sounds. But the distrust he gave credit to the leering stares his Housemates passed his way, the general whispers he heard but never recognized or honored them with his reactions, and of course, the forefathers of his enemies. Aldrich especially he held on his watch list. The Malfoy couldn't be trusted, none of them ever could be. Roderick as well he hated with a passion for ever being sired. Harry had noticed Bellatrix already once, and he thought of killing her to solve so many deaths in his time.
But he was overcome with reality and sighed. He couldn't do away with Bellatrix, or Aldrich, or… Tom. He had already altered history enough as it is, he couldn't risk anything, he couldn't tempt fate by offering his hand. Oh but how he wanted to tangle with it, dance with fate and lure it to the side, then quickly slash it down to finish his business. Such would be the demise, and Harry could die happy and old, or dispirited and youthful. Whichever came, he would accept it willingly. But he wanted a final dance with fate, just one final dance to tangle his hand in her wavy hair of spider webs and broken hearts, touch her necklace so tattered lives and feel the soft of her weathered skin…
The picture in his mind was fruitful, promising and a temptation to become reality. Harry shook his head as his feet found the gravel of the garden path. He looked up, for a moment stopping to stare at a statue of a maiden, clearly in mourning. Below her was a small pool of water, pristine and clear, with fish swimming around and under the lily pads that somehow managed to bear life in the numbing cold of autumn.
Harry found a bench and with a sigh sat down on it, sighing and watching his breath form on the air. Looking he saw his reflection and noticed how pale he was, how sad he appeared. His eyes, though full of a fiery color, were somehow melancholy, dull. He had a fierce air about hi, what with his hair constantly in his face and seemingly untamable, his mind always bringing his brow down to furrow, and his general lack of concern for the world around him, though he held it on his shoulders. He really had become somewhat of a dark character over the passing of time, and its quick and sudden reversal.
He knew he should be happy to be alive, to have friends and a surrogate family that loved him unconditionally, He should be happy for his talents, for his faults, for his gifts and for his curses. He should be happy on every basis, and yet he could find no happiness, no solace. His soul stirred in distressed impatience, the want for action and change clawing and scratching and biting and fighting to get out. Desperately Harry wanted to do what he had to, and then go off on his wonderings with no regrets. He longed for a new sunrise over new hills…
Harry rose suddenly, slightly surprised by his action. He heard footfall and quiet talking, and looked to his left he saw Tom and another girl from Ravenclaw, talking animatedly. Harry watched in stony silence, but nothing of the flirtatious or shady nature took place. Harry let his guard down, but only a little, and put on a smirk as he walked over.
"Hello, Tom!" he said cheerily, causing the two to look and smile at him.
"Harry, wonderful to run into you," Tom said just as cordially; "Oh! Harry, this is Cornelia Barefax. She's A Prefect for Ravenclaw. Cornelia, this is Harry Tomelson…"
"Yes, the exchange student from Beauxbatons," Cornelia said as she shook hands with Harry.
Harry nodded; "Well, word travels fast here," he said coolly.
"Well, rumors spread fastest when the whole party agrees that it's worth talking over," Cornelia commented; "I do have a question for you though, Mister Tomelson…"
She spoke as though she were older, as though they were all aging and elderly, past their prime and beyond idle chatter. For sure she was beautiful, with long auburn hair and inviting brown eyes, a soft complexion and a figure that tailored robes accentuated. Sheseemed skilled at how to get her way, at any cost.But somehow Harry did not like her, or trust her. The way she stared and how she spoke gave way to suspected treason, or the threat. But he would not let on any of this, oh no.
"And your question, Miss Barefax?" Harry asked just as smoothly.
"Is it true that you delight in the same gender?"
The question was blunt and obvious, Cornelia had not tried to hide anything or tell it slant. Harry commended her for that quality for it was rare and found once or twice and barely that.
Softly he chuckled, amused; "I daresay my private life is of no concern to the public," he replied smoothly, glancing at Tom.
The Slytherin seemed a bit uneasy by this encounter, and in honest realization, Harry saw him to be a little nervous as well. Ah, the better to make him squirm, Harry thought melevolantly.
Cornelia laughed a delicate, tinkling laugh and smiled; "Oh, you are the character, Harry," she said, pausing; "This school is in need of something exciting."
"They say change is a good thing," Tom said, finally stepping in to the conversation.
"Yes, I quite agree, Tom," Cornelia said, "Well, if I'm not mistaken it must be nearly five, and I have a friend I'm supposed to meet. Later, boys," she said, passing between them.
"Nice meeting you!" Harry called, and she waved as she rounded the corner and departed.
"Well, you are quite the people-person," Tom said, smirking.
"I just had to run into you," Harry groaned, rubbing his eyes.
Tom looked at him; "And what's you're problem?" he almost snapped, but tried to control his tone.
Harry shook his head, "Nothing," he said, "Nothing at all."
How his eyelids were hooded, how his general concern seemed devoid in his eyes, it led Tom to worry. Harry seemed distant, heavily burdened, and disheartened. There was so much turmoil, so much passion in those eyes that Tom thought he could be lost in a nightmare. Harry seemed to take notice, and just as quickly as Tom thought to delve into the depths, to dance with fate and tempt risk, the windows were closed and behind them emotions were sealed away.
"Harry," Tom began, but he silenced and sighed; "Tell me."
Harry looked at him, "I spoke with someone today, that's all," he said, looking down and turning gravel with the tip of his shoe.
"And… what did they say?"
Harry shrugged; "First conversations are spread out and vague," he quietly replied; "Nothing of real importance, nothing that could save my life, anyway…"
"Harry…" Tom stepped closer to the other youth, but Harry stepped away.
"The beauty about Lovers are their shameless secrets, Tom," Harry said, numb in feeling but still sending a cold effect; "You of all people should agree on that."
Tom's lips pursed together and he wanted to huff and turn away, but he oculdn't. Harry had practically spat his words back at him. Was he that harsh? Did he cause that much pain in so little an ammount of time?
The thoughts that plagued him, Tom could only wonder. And as Harry's back turned and began to recede, give way to distance, Tom wanted to follow, to wrap his arms around the figure and whisper sweet nothings until peace claimed them both. Sighing out of frustration he lashed out of the gravel, his foot sending a cascade into the flower bed nearby. He ground his teeth together, look left, then right, and departed, leaving the garden behind, an island of summer in fall's cold hands.
From the bushes a figure rustled the leaves, triumphantly standing erect and proud, adjusting his cloak before he too looked around. Making sure the coast was clear, he left the garden, back to his cohorts to retell all that he had learned.
TBC
A/N: her name is pronounce "Gih--ahn-ee"