CHAPTER THREE. He's Hot and He's Cold
During Transfiguration, Harry managed to ask about getting a bookbag because he was having trouble with carrying the few possessions he had around the school. Dumbledore went into his office while everyone practiced animating the practice dolls on their desks. Eventually, the professor came out with a very simple leather satchel and pulled Harry aside. "It's transfigured from an old robe. It should hold what you need until Hogsmeade weekend."
"Thank you, Professor."
Dumbledore stroked his growing beard, before casting a wandless privacy charm. "Do you have funds available? I'm afraid that since you are not an official ward of the school that we can't provide anything yet."
"It's fine," Harry said. He couldn't survive on pocket change for long but it was enough, as he attempted to determine his situation here in 1943. "I had my coin pouch on me. I have some galleons and sickles available still." It was less than what Hermione, daughter of dentists, would carry in her mokeskin but still far more than what Ginny would carry on her.
"And were you able to locate the book containing your ritual?"
Harry shook his head and explained that it was possible the book was on loan since it was a popular, relevant topic. Dumbledore accepted the response and let Harry return to the practice doll.
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On Friday, he had to find his way to the alchemy classroom on his own. His yearmates hadn't elected to take the new class so he was going to be on his own.
But there was a problem at lunch.
He couldn't find his bookbag. At first he hadn't been alarmed but when he held out his hand and cast an Accio and still the bag didn't show up, Harry started to suspect there could be something more sinister afoot. Frowning, he took out his want and tried again, thinking he was perhaps tired. Nothing.
"Has anyone seen my bookbag?" Harry asked his friends. They each either shook their head or said an audible no. Alchemy was soon about to start, so he left, needing to give up and investigate later.
When he got to the classroom, he found his bag lying innocently beside the door. He stood there, perplexed, before slowly grabbing it. Harry thought someone must have gotten it for him from maybe the common room or when he went to the loo, but he thought he brought his bag with him to lunch. Why would someone take it from him? And why did the bag not come when he accio'd it? He was able to call a broom during the fourth task from many many meters away an through castle walls. Also, if it was stolen, there wasn't anything valuable in his bag... nothing certainly looked missing. He still kept his coin pouch on his person on the off chance he left this era on his own. He decided to think about it later.
He entered the classroom. Winnie was there – and this was the first time he saw her in a classroom setting since they were in different years – but she was sitting with her fellow Ravenclaws. She mouthed a "sorry" to him before returning to her conversation. Harry sat alone at an empty table toward the back of the room. He looked around, trying to find another recognizable face. There were a couple of seventh years he might have seen before. But something was off, as if his mind was trying to remind him there was something he should remember about this course.
When the seat beside Harry was pulled from the table and essentially became occupied, he remembered what he was supposed to be wary of.
Tom Riddle petitioned for this very new course. Which means in spite of Riddle being a sixth year and Harry being a seventh year, the Dark Lord could choose to sit next to Harry in class. The Boy-Who-Lived, the Boy-Who-Defeated-The-Dark-Lord, was sitting right next to the very dark lord Harry was supposed to defeat fifty years from now. He thought Hermione would find that hilarious.
"What do you think you're doing?" Harry hissed.
Tom shrugged, falsely good-natured, as if Harry was the crazy one. "Occupying a seat."
Slughorn was apparently the instructor today for this co-instructed course. "Good afternoon, everyone. As Dumbledore may or may not have mentioned last week, we will be trading off on this course. We'll hope it to make it worth your while. I know some of you opted to drop an elective course in order to make room for Alchemy... The way the two of us approach this course will be a bit different as we approach it from different angles. For my portion of this course, however, there will be partnered work."
Sod. All.
"So it is a wonderful thing that Mr. Key here evens out our classroom just in time for my turn to instruct. For this first project, to make sure we all get started as soon as possible, you'll be partnered with the person sharing your table."
Harry just stared at a spot in front of him. Partnering with Riddle? There was no "working" with Riddle. You either worked FOR him or AGAINST him. Not WITH him. Harry's mind wouldn't stop either attempting to find a way out of this situation. It was hard to focus on the lecture.
Just why was Riddle so focused on Harry? It's not as if there's a horcrux with part of Riddle's soul stuck in Harry's forehead. As far as Riddle knew, Harry was a random boy who showed up in the middle of the night past curfew. Harry wasn't even particularly mean or angry at Riddle. Harry had been trying his absolute hardest to just be indifferent. Harry didn't talk to any Slytherins either, so it's not as if they would have said anything about Harry.
As far as Harry could tell there were only two things that could plausibly be the reason Riddle had an unwarranted fascination with him. One, that the Key family had some sort of significance Harry didn't know of. Or two, that Riddle was secretly interested in Winifred Vance and saw Harry as a threat. And since two would only be a realistic if Riddle were any normal red-blooded man, it was probably reason one. But Harry would keep an eye on how Riddle interacted around Winifred anyway. More than ever, Harry wanted to get Winnie alone with him in private so they could finish that conversation about getting a date and seeing how Riddle would react.
And as Harry thought this, he had a sinking, strong suspicion that Riddle might have stolen his bookbag. There's nothing he could prove, but when something went wrong in Harry's life, there's always a good bet that Voldemort was behind it. And he probably would have stolen Harry's bag to what? Learn more about Harry's possessions? Find the best way to bother Harry by partnering up with him?
"... all items are constructed from tiny, tiny bits almost invisible to the naked eye because of how small they are. Surrounding these bits is aether. Aether moves around freely, but this movement allows objects to maintain their properties. Different objects have different types of aether and even the best alchemists in the world have been unable to truly understand the properties of bits and aether. What we do know is that out there in the world, there are catalysts. These catalysts are able to disrupt the bits and aether so that when you combine objects in a cauldron and effectively apply the catalyst, the two materials in the cauldron become something completely different. Something you can't undo with a spell. You can't throw a potion at it to reverse the process."
Harry thought that explanation sounded a lot like Muggle science. He didn't know that much about Muggle science, but he had tried to read some of Dudley's books when he was bored one summer. The pictures and diagrams did a good job breaking down the basic concepts.
Slughorn proceeded to draw their attention to a glass cauldron for the demonstration. He took some pumpkin juice and what looked to be some animal's eggshells. A few girls in the classroom murmured disgust. Harry couldn't blame them. That looked horrid. Taking a sparkling crystal-like rod from beside the cauldron, he stirred the contents of the cauldron.
After a few stirs, the contents in the cauldron began to turn a milky white. Slughorn ladled some out into a goblet. "Milk," Slughorn said. There were some gasps. "Anyone want to try?" No one volunteered. "Suit yourselves. Slughorn took a drink.
"This is one of the most practiced demonstrations of alchemic procedure. This rod here is made from zircon and was energized by the touch of a live unicorn's horn. In spite of what you may think, it is in no way a wand. As the most common catalyst, you will each be given one magically charged zircon rod." Slughorn walked around and handed them each a rod contained within a solid colored box lined with glass and then lined with cushioning. "I would limit your attempts to use magic on it. Avoid calling it with an accio or shrinking it, for example. You want to minimize corrupting the magic."
"Professor," called Tom Riddle. "Could combining any two materials and using this rod turn something into gold?"
Harry narrowed his eyes. Dumbledore was right. Riddle was interested in the Philosopher's Stone. Had Voldemort really been seeking it for fifty years? Talk about something that was absolutely not a surprise.
Slughorn laughed heartily. "O ho! Good question. Metals are one of the most difficult materials to transmutate. Gold is almost impossible. There is only one known catalyst that can successfully change items into gold... Oh, no Mr. Riddle, I'm not sure how to obtain it. But an expert – the great Nicholas Flamel – will be here later in the year to provide a lecture on the subject.
"So those of you planning on entering the honorable field of potions work, understanding what is transmutable and what is a catalyst and avoiding the combination of them will be part of your job. This, opposed to the alchemists who are actually trying to combine them." Slughorn laughed at his own non-joke.
Slughorn spent the rest of the double period lecturing and giving them all the opportunity to do their own small transmutation.
Harry took a look at the nearby clock and noticed the class coming to an end. "Your project until you see me again in this classroom two weeks from now is to go out to the edge of the Forbidden Forest – only during daylight! Do not search when night falls – and discover items that when combined can be transmutated using the zircon rod and write a combined report on your findings. If you are unable to find something to be transmutated but write, let's say at least 18 inches on your search, you will still get a passing grade on the assignment as a team who writes 6 inches but manages to discover a transmutation."
A sixth year Hufflepuff raised her hand. "Couldn't this be dangerous?"
Slughorn laughed. "Good question. But don't worry. This has been the traditional first project on Alchemy for centuries. There's nothing that hasn't been discovered and nothing that will do any harm as long as you do it when the light is out and at the edge of the Forest. Anyone else? .. Okay. Dismissed."
Harry looked at his zircon rod and into his transfigured bookbag. Would that be a bad combination? He asked and Slughorn gave him two points for forward thinking and applying a lesson from class. But Slughorn said it would be fine. The box was designed for people transporting the rod with their wands.
"So when do you want to meet up to go to the Forbidden Forest?" Riddle asked.
Harry really detested the idea of Voldemort and the Forbidden Forest in combination for obvious reasons.
Harry grunted. "I'll let you know once I get an idea of my schedule."
He expected Riddle to get up and leave, but Riddle had that calculating look on his face again as he looked down at Harry. Harry could almost see the gears turning. It was making Harry nervous. What was that monster thinking? Harry wouldn't drop his gaze though, out of proud, or out of not wanting to show weakness. He wasn't sure. He thought they might have been attracting attention from the surrounding students still sticking around and chatting.
Riddle must have settled on something because suddenly...
With no explanation...
Riddle looked away, and Harry was washed with a feeling of cold. Not chilly in the sense he needed to put on a jumper, but cold on the inside.
"What was that?" Harry asked, irritated. Another plot?
"What was what?" Riddle raised an eyebrow, still more concerned about carefully placing his zircon rod neatly away. Harry thought he looked... genuinely ignorant of what just happened. Riddle put his bookbag on and said a very dismissive, "Just talk to me when you get it all sorted it."
Harry couldn't help it. He just stared at Riddle walking out of the classroom as if Harry was someone completely worthless and unimportant. As if he had more important things to deal with. That was.. new. To be treated like basically how Tom Riddle treated everyone else in the world.
On the surface, Harry was relieved. Maybe Riddle finally decided that Harry was no longer interesting and would leave him alone. But a voice from inside Harry couldn't understand it and was complaining. Harry told that voice to shut up and enjoy the peace.
Forcefully forgetting about it, Harry went to talk to Winnie who was still chatting with her yearmates. "Winnie, you left the start of your essay in the library the other day."
"Oh, thanks, Harry."
"Also, hey, can we talk soon about the-"
"Come on, Winnie! Brutus and Katyah are about to start their chess match!"
"Sorry, Harry. We'll talk though. I promise!"
That left Harry the last person to leave the classroom, and it made him very aware that he was a stranger in this time. He felt a bit homesick again and wished more than ever that he could just go home instead of stuck in this new adventure.
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As reluctant as he was at first, Battle Club was getting his energy pumped up, even though he didn't know the first thing about it. He was looking to relieve some tension after the first few days of nerves. When he arrived, he saw that the Great Hall had been a bit transformed. The dining tables were no longer around, but instead benches, separated by House, were set up along the sides of the walls as if this were a Quidditch match. There was a large raised platform in the middle of the room. As part of Pippa's crew, he got to sit in the front row of the Gryffindor area, which was by far the largest representation of Houses in Battle Club.
Across the room was Tom Riddle, who was talking quietly to his Slytherin companions. Riddle didn't look up at Harry at all.
After a few minutes of chatting with his friends, Harry and the rest of the audience grew quiet as Merrythought walked in. As this was also the first day of Battle Club for the school year, logistics were given out first.
Since first years were new, Professor Merrythought gave a well rehearsed lecture on how this wasn't called a Dueling Club for a reason. A Duel implied a formal set of rules played by sheltered gentlefolk. In a battle, there were no rules. The second you turned your back you could be killed. This scared the first years who were clearly dragged out by their Gryffindor friends. Still, Merrythought hadn't explained the rules.
Looking around, Merrythought plucked some students from the crowd, seeming to want to demonstrate first. She chose Walburga Black from the Slytherin section, Sirius's awful mother. She had long black hair, thin eyebrows, and just the most awful looking facial expression. Pippa was picked out from the Gryffindor section. As Poppy walked up, Mervin cheered and Michael whooped.
"That eighth year has nothing on you!" Mervin shouted.
"Eighth year?" Harry asked.
"Oh yeah, so Walburga Black made a royal mistake a while back and was forced to retake a year. It's hilarious. We'll tell you about it another time."
The moment Poppy stepped onto the platform, Black started shooting spells at Poppy. Poppy dodged the first spell and whipped up a Protego. She sent a fairy bell charm at Black who was so busy covering her ears that Poppy had a chance to regain some composure and shoot other spells back. Suddenly a Ravenclaw boy stepped onto the platform and cast a hex at Poppy.
"WHAT?" Harry shouted in distress.
"Calm down," Crouch said.
"It's part of battle procedure. Merrythought starts tapping people to enter the Battlefield," Michael explained.
"But what's the purpose? Is there a goal?" Harry said. "Last wizard standing?"
"Oh no, not that barbaric. Merrythought will explain in more detail after this initial fight but basically the room is divided at random before the club starts. Today it's Slytherins and Ravenclaws on one side and us and 'Puffs on the other. The goal is to be the side that eliminates all of the other. If Poppy managed to take down Black before Jordan entered the field then we win automatically."
A female Hufflepuff, clearly a bit younger than the others entered the fight. It looked like even though she wasn't particularly gifted with a spell knowledge, she was very fast moving. Very quickly though, Poppy was knocked off the platform by the Ravenclaw – Jordan's – tickling charm. Moments later, she got up, but just stood next to the platform waiting for the battle to end.
Harry thought he could overpower and crush them all, and the Gryffindor in him frantically put a lid on that strange part of Harry's personality.
"Is there a reward?" Harry asked. He was surprised no one tried to bring this back when they were in school but he supposed that not only was there that curse on the Defense position, but for a long time, everyone was in denial about Voldemort's return. No one was in denial about the Grindelwald War here, so this club was both practical and fun. Harry was actually getting excited about this club. Finally, something to look forward to in this nightmare of an experience.
While the students on the platform weren't bad – they were certainly better than the members of Dumbledore's Army when they started – they went about this the way any group of teenagers who would feel untouched by the war would feel – like they were simply playing a game. None of these students ever had to fight for their lives, he supposed. In this era, the battles actually stayed amongst the adults and no children was expected to do battle. No one in wizarding society in this time had a Boy-Who-Lived or Chosen One to put pressure on.
No, this was just Merrythought's way of recruiting for the DMLE.
It occurred to Harry that while there was rivalry and perhaps a general dislike of Slytherins for their cunning, the division between Houses didn't become legend until Voldemort started recruiting almost exclusively from Slytherin House, and that was when they earned their name as a house full of Dark Wizards. And the influence of Dumbledore's general distrust towards anyone Slytherin after Tom Riddle made his way to the top of the food chain only added to it.
So while Harry's spellwork wasn't particularly advanced in the heat of battle, his quick instincts and desperation to survive was what had impressed his Defense class on the first day. Because that was what a good little soldier/Auror needed.
"The winning side gets about 10 points to each House. Merrythought usually goes back and watches for individual performances. Once she's done, there will be a very embarrassingly public ranking. At the end of the year, the best student in year gets an automatic 'O,' and tons of points for their house. And the top students of seventh year get strong recommendations for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Barty's been drooling for top spot every year since first year."
"Poppy hates this," Mervin said sadly. "This is like torture for her. She hates hurting people even though they'll be fine after a good renervate or a short trip to the Hospital Wing." Harry had a very good explanation for that, he wished he could say something to free Poppy of this duty.
After Gryffindor got tapped again, and then Slytherin after that, the Slytherin-Ravenclaw side won this round. When Harry looked to their side, he saw the Slytherin and Walburga coming back and talking to Riddle, almost as if they were debriefing.
As the others indicated, Merrythought explained the rest of the rules for the club, that she would try to do 1 or 2 rounds depending on how short or long the first one was, and dismissed everyone. Thus, came the weekend.
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It looked like the fun never ended. Harry was exhausted when Saturday morning, Michael dragged him up from bed in order to take him to Quidditch tryouts.
"Um, Michael, I never agreed -"
"Hush up and just come with."
So, Harry, who still really needed more clothes than his one Hogwarts uniform, borrowed a flying robe from Michael. Harry held up the lightweight short robe with disdain. "Michael, are you sure..." Harry gestured to the clear height and with difference between the tall, strong, muscular Beater and the thin silhouette of Harry's seeker build.
"Don't worry about it – I think this is from my skinny days of 2nd year."
Harry snorted, but, to his absolute misery, they fit fine. "If you make the team, you can keep that," Michael said, rubbing his chin when Harry walked out to show it off.
"We're heading out to the grounds a bit early so I don't have to deal with the sycophants later. There's a few current players that should be getting their spots back, but who knows what the new people trying out will bring." Mervin tagged along, one of the Chasers from last year.
About half an hour later, once the Quidditch Pitch was set, all of the candidates were assembled on the grass. Harry decided that since he wasn't already associated with the seeker spot, he'd try out for all the roles just for fun. He grabbed a Comet. He cringed at how slow it would be compared to both his Nimbus and his Firebolt.
After about an hour, the Beater and Chaser trials were done. Chaser was a bad choice for him. Perhaps it was all this time being more of a lonely player than a team player, coordinating with the other Chasers was a bit of a disaster. And hitting a bat as a Beater was the easy part. It was trying to push back against his instinct to avoid bludgers and use them as tools instead that was the difficult part.
And his broom! It was the worst, playing on not just a school broom, but a broom fifty years older than the models he was used to.
The good part of this long morning was that at this point he met a lot of really nice and funny people. It was so different from his time at Hogwarts, but it made sense, Harry supposed. In his time, he was either the next dark lord or the golden savior. No one was able to act normal around him. But with them thinking he was a decently normal student, everyone was more willing to open up to him. No one judged him or put an undeserved large amount of responsibilities on him. Here, he was just a talented bloke.
Keeper trials were slow-going. Since only one person could try out at a time, there was time for mingling. There were a few people who had wanted to talk to him. Just Harry's luck, not all of the people he met that day were that nice.
An Asian girl with chin-length, feathery-textured dark brown hair introduced herself as "Quinsley Tsang."
"You look like you have Seeker's build," she said, looking him over, scrutinizing him.
"It's been said, " Harry responded unsure of how to interact with her. She was very direct. The last Asian Quidditch player he knew was Cho Chang and Cho was by far much more giggly. Quinsley didn't look to be the giggling type.
She put a hand on her hip and tossed a straight lock of hair off her face. "Look, I don't know where you dropped out of the sky from, but I've been waiting three years for the last Seeker to graduate, and I'm not going to deal with waiting for you to graduate in order to get the Seeker's spot -"
Harry waved his hands trying to calm her down. "Whoa, whoa. Hey, I'm just trying out for fun, as a favor for Michael. I don't really care about being Seeker in particular."
She still looked stubborn.
Harry kept going. "Why do you care so much about being a Seeker? You did well in the Chaser trial."
She shrugged, and the broom - a really good Comet too - switched hands. "Seekers get the glory. There's no glory in coordinating with other Chasers."
Harry frowned. "Don't Chasers measure the number of scores they make?"
Tsang shrugged again. Harry wasn't planning on playing seriously, but he decided that if this Quinsley girl was going to be irritating, then Harry would at least put some energy in, to make sure she was as good as she was implying.
Eventually, it was Harry's turn to play Keeper and defend the three goal posts. Harry thought he did pretty well. He managed to keep all but two Quaffles out, probably because of his experience with sudden turns of a snitch. He had terrible balance however.
Tsang also played the Keeper position and did spectacularly well. She almost got all but one; the last Quaffle had slipped out of her fingers so she was tied with Harry. He wondered if she let it go on purpose. In spite of that, it was clear she was a good Keeper. Unlike Harry she didn't look like she was going to fall off her broom.
"Isn't she so good?" one of the other younger male students said. "It's a shame she's been trying to go after the Seeker position because she's been a great Keeper so far."
Harry had a tough time processing what the last statement meant. "Are you... are you telling me she was the Keeper last year?"
"Yup. No offense, but she's a better Keeper than you."
Harry laughed and shrugged. "None taken."
So she was already on the Quidditch team from last year? Oh yes. This would be fun.
Michael gathered all the Seeker hopefuls. "I let out a fair amount of snitches in the pitch. I'm not going to tell you how many because I want to see the best you have for me. The trial ends when it looks like you've got them all or if it goes on for too long. Pocket them in these pouches..." After everyone got a bag, he blew the whistle and they were off.
There were enough snitches that the first few were easy. At least one or two were close calls and had been closer the other candidates. From the corner of his eye he saw how fast Tsang was moving on her high-end (relatively for her time) broom. After about forty minutes it was starting to look like they had them all. Harry looked down to search the grass and lo and behold, it seemed one final snitch was hovering inches from the ground. But instead of going straight for the snitch he had to check on everyone else's position. Tsang was doing great the opposite and checking the skies. So Harry then started sinking to the grass. She had noticed it, however, and shot her broom downward. With no other choice, Harry just went straight for the snitch. It was clear she was much faster however and seemed to be nearly caught up in spite of being several meters higher than Harry had been.
Wanting to see how gutsy she would be, he pressed forward. Slower than what Harry was used to, but fast enough that a crash would do major damage, still. He noticed Tsang kept looking at him, trying to see if Harry would slow down. But Harry was good at this. This, at this speed especially, was nothing. When they got a few yards from the ground, Tsang decided she had enough, and she pulled up to avoid a crash course.
But Harry, in a shout out to Angelina Johnson who taught him the move back in fifth year, both managed to pull up the broom and turn himself upside down. Holding tightly onto the broom for dear life, he reached out and snagged the snitch, fingers just grazing the grass. After righting himself and stuffing it in his pouch, Michael blew his whistle. Quasi-gracefully, Harry dropped to the ground.
He thought absentmindedly, though admittedly mean, that this meant Tsang was in Gryffindor not for her courage but for her desire for glory.
He heard people clapping after they got to him. That was the first applause since Harry arrived in 1943, he felt he actually deserved. "That was amazing, Harry!" Michael said. "You must teach us that move some time! I've never seen it before."
Oh bollocks , did he just invent the Sloth Grip Roll?
The other candidates touched down, some patting his back for a job well done.
At the assemble, Michael revealed that only 24 golden snitches were released. Among the nine Seeker hopefuls, Tsang had seven and Harry had eleven, in spite of his slower broom. She gave him a stiff and bitter, "Good show."
Michael blew his whistle again to get everyone's attention. "So this concludes our Quidditch tryouts. Thank you all for coming in today, you've all given me a lot to think about. Now go on – I want you to enjoy your weekends! Notice will be put out some time Sunday. No matter what, know this. With the amount of talent you all displayed, Gryffindor is definitely winning the Quidditch Cup this year." People cheered.
Apparently his year mates had been in the stands too. "That was wicked!" Ben exclaimed.
Poppy was checking him over for bruises, pulling up his sleeves, and feeling his bones for any breakages. "I can't believe you, Harry! I nearly had a heart attack when I saw you take that dive!"
"What about me?" whined Mervin. "Aren't you going to check me over?"
Poppy looked like she would smack him but thought better of it. "Wait your turn," she said gently instead.
A bit away, Harry saw Michael talking to Tsang; curiosity took over, and he decided to approach carefully.
".. Look, Quinsley, I know your heart was set on Seeker but Harry beat you fairly."
"But if I could just start playing and practicing now I could be even better than Harry when I become a seventh year. You know it's my dream to go pro-Quidditch as a Seeker!"
Michael crossed his arms, clearly losing his patience. Harry would be pretty irritated too, except that Tsang genuinely looked like she would start crying any moment. She did a good job of bottling it up to look tough though. "Quit it, Quinsley. I need you to snap out of this all-about-me attitude you have right now. You're better than this. Be a team player... Here's the tough truth. Recruiters won't be looking at fourth years at the moment. But even if they did you won't be good enough by the start of recruiting season to get their attention. Harry, on the other hand, will. And you don't even know if he wanted to go professional, either."
Honestly, Harry never considered it seriously what with dark wizards breathing down his neck. But he filed it mentally under a list of options he could pursue after graduation.
After Quinsley marched away, hiding her face from everyone, Michael joined them and they headed to lunch. Knowing to a fair degree of certainty that he would probably be joining the Quidditch team, he asked Michael what the schedules would be like. Harry looked at his time table, and made the appropriate notes. When lunch was coming to an end, Harry excused himself for a moment to head to the Slytherin table. The conversations stopped when he approached, the snakes sensing an intruder.
"Riddle, I have availability on Monday and Wednesday evenings as well as most of Sunday."
Riddle looked up dispassionately. "Noted," and went back to what apparently was the previous conversation at the table. Chatter returned, as everyone took Riddle's cue.
Harry was thrown for a loop. He walked away a bit shell shocked at the dismissal, trying not to think about why he cared so much.
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Eventually things fell into a routine. Harry would go to class, go to Quidditch practice, go to the library. He didn't have any school books so he was forced to do his homework and studying there. It was starting to make him look like a Ravenclaw or Hermione. The school librarian didn't really have anything for him either, the book hadn't shown up. There was still some time, but it was worrying him. He didn't want to go to Dumbledore, and confess he couldn't find the book. Without the book, the Old Trio couldn't even begin to help him. Clearly someone somewhere had knowledge of the ritual though – Dumbledore did mention he'd heard of it, so there might be a back up plan there. For now, he tried to shut it out of his mind.
In the Winnie department, after several days, it became clear that all of these excuses to not talk was not mere coincidences; it seemed Winnie was avoiding him.
And Riddle. Riddle would still show up at the library, but he wouldn't look up when Harry was around.
Occasionally they spoke, but only out of necessity. Riddle would send a note by first year or owl that referred to a time and day when they would meet up at the ground keeper's hut to work on the project. At the forest, Tom would say almost nothing except what was relevant to the homework. The project hadn't gotten anywhere yet, but Tom said he didn't know of anyone who successfully found the alchemy materials yet either. At their next alchemy class, Riddle sat with his fellow Slytherins, continuing, it seemed, to take the hint that Harry didn't want him around. It was almost as if Riddle was a completely normal acquaintance and fellow student, and not a budding Dark Lord.
Altogether, this meant Harry's life had come to a complete standstill over the course of a week.
Today, Harry was idly sitting in front of his Transfiguration text, working on a paper for Dumbledore, when he had a sudden urge to know what Riddle was doing. Silently casting one of the spying spells he was taught during the war, Harry closed his eyes, being able to see around him and push his vision away as if his eyes could separate from his body. He pushed to the direction of Riddle, intent on knowing what Voldemort was doing at the moment.
Harry had learned over the last few days that Tom could be incredibly boring. He would read usually non-course relevant material, or he would help younger students who came up to him with questions on homework. Ironically, these younger students were never from his own house. It seemed most Slytherins steered clear of Riddle if they had the choice.
As Harry watched Riddle flipping through a book on Architectural spells, he realized that Riddle wasn't actually reading the book in any conventional sense of the word. Riddle would pause at all the pages, and by the time a normal person would get to the third sentence, Riddle would turn the page. At first Harry thought Riddle was only pretending to read and thinking about something else, but he noticed Riddle's eyes jumping around as he looked at the pages, and not glossed over.
Bloody hell, Riddle had an eidetic memory. Apparently nothing Riddle did fell short of the categorization of Genius.
But it was as Harry watched this scene that his mind tickled, trying to tell him something.
And it was that Harry had gone from full blown animosity to near obsession with what Riddle was doing at every moment. Meaning Riddle's dismissal of Harry had somehow led to Harry seeking Riddle out instead of the other way around. He wouldn't put it past Riddle for this being some long form manipulation. Was this how he got his followers? Made every person feel special before taking back his addictive magic? So everyone would yearn to become close to him in order to get a taste of what they once had?
Harry almost fell for it too. He had been so used to seeing Riddle as Voldemort that he didn't notice it. Whereas Voldemort was direct and prone to anger, Riddle was sly and cunning. But before Voldemort had lost himself to Dark Magic and become a crazed psychopath, he was a highly intelligent, highly functional psychopath.
Harry was mad, though more at himself for not being careful. He couldn't exactly be mad at Riddle for simply being a dark lord-in-training. Two could play at that game. Putting the Transfiguration book away, he made a big decision. Instead of going to the Gryffindor Tower he headed to where he remembered the Ravenclaw entrance would be. He found the bronze Eagle knocker.
The Eagle started to speak, "What is both -"
"I don't need to be granted entry. Could you ask for Winfred Vance for me?"
He wasn't sure if the Eagle understood – it simply stopped moving. But moments later, Winnie poked her head out. "Harry? How did you know where the Ravenclaw dorms - - "
"Can we talk?"
Biting her lip, she looked behind her as if looking for another excuse. But she sighed, agreed, and stepped out. They walked quietly to a nearby classroom. She leaned on a desk and looked away from him. The nearby window cast a light on her brown hair. Gods, he thought she was pretty.
"Winnie, I just.. I just wanted to say sorry. Maybe I should have gotten to know you more and respected what you said about not liking blokes. I think you're awfully pretty, and if you want me to stop making your uncomfortable about your sexual orientation, I will."
"It's not that," she put her palm to her forehead and sighed. "It's completely my fault. As you've probably noticed, I've definitely been avoiding you, which was a stupid solution. I should have known from your face that you were the marrying type... I was just flirting to mess around, it's what I do. When I came onto you that first night I was expecting to just have a little fun, you know? Nothing serious."
"It's fine," Harry said, stepping closer. Did he really mean that? Wasn't he here to find his true love? Okay, so part of Harry thought that maybe Winnie would eventually reconsider and turn out to be his true partner. But even if she didn't, he felt like he really needed this. He needed something physical. If his true partner was someone else in this school, it could wait until after he got Winnie out of his head. "If you don't want us dating, we don't have to be."
"Are you sure? I'm not good at monogamy. I'll probably even kiss girls while we're dating, or whatever this is. You won't be able to change my mind about what people I like." She had a severely serious expression on her face. "So if we start this and you try to convince me that I shouldn't be with girls, it ends."
Harry got up so close to Winnie's face that he thought he could feel his breath bouncing back. She stared right back into his eyes before hers fluttered shut.
"That's perfectly fine," he asserted again. He wrapped his arms around her waist, and they stood like that for a few seconds. Then he dipped his head, and they kissed.
It felt like everything he needed at that moment, and yet it wasn't right.
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Just when Tom/Harry goes a few steps forward, it also takes a few steps back. In the next chapter, Riddle will find out about the two. Please let me know what you think! I had a ton of fun with the name of this chapter. :)