CHAPTER SEVEN

Settling or Unsettling

…

Monday at breakfast, Harry was now distinctly aware that down the table sat a group of people near Quinsley not-so-subtly pointing at and whispering about him every few minutes. For the most part, Harry just saw them in his peripheral vision, but when he did turn his head over, they all looked away. To her credit, Quinsley wasn't taking part. But it didn't help that his friends also noticed and were trying their hardest trying not to laugh at the schoolyard crush that he'd been oblivious about for what must have been weeks. It was entirely too embarrassing.

The morning post came in eventually, interrupting the gossip, and giving Harry some peace. Harry didn't expect any post, so, like usual, he ignored the fast flurry of wings above him and instead continued to enjoy his toast, mushrooms, and eggs. It just so happened, however, that today an fluffy grey owl did decide to land beside him, holding out a letter expectantly, and twisting its head to look at something else.

Confused, Harry carefully untied the letter from the owl's tan leg. The bird hooted, its job done, and hopped not so gently over to the fully recovered Ben who was now, like Quinsley earlier, blushing and trying to ignore his friends. The owl nipped at the sliced sausage on Ben's plate, and Ben took a fork to very focusedly, slice some bacon for the bird.

His friends were somewhat curious. "That's Ben's owl," explained Barty, stating the obvious. Some silly stray thought that took the voice of Ginny groaned, "I hope this isn't another crush."

Tentatively, Harry started to open his letter when he heard an approach from above – another disruption landed on his table. It was also an owl, albeit much larger, darker, and meaner looking then Ben's. This owl, upon landing, had caused the nearby silverware to leap slightly from the surfaces they rested on. It also held out a letter for Harry and he noted the claws seemed to bear some intricate metal rings.

That was certainly a surprise. Harry took this second letter, and noted that it was a Gringott's seal. He was certainly popular today. The larger owl spread its wings and lifted away from the table, blowing away some of the button mushrooms off his plate and into his lap. Harry decided to read the letter from Ben's owl first.

Dear Mr. Harium Key,

My name is Eliezer Solomon, head of the Solomon family. My son has informed me of your heroic acts in saving his life. As a man of honor, I am incapable of standing by and doing nothing when there is a debt owed unto you for risking your health in order to save my beloved progeny.

On behalf of the family, I would have offered you significant gold for your deed. But it makes me proud to know that Benjamin instead took it upon himself to offer his own trust fund in gratitude for your heroic act.

From what he has told me of you, I believe you have the type of character that would likely turn down this gold. Allow me to save you the trouble of protesting. To take it out of your hands, I have already requested the goblins to directly issue a transfer from the trust fund to yours. Please understand, this money is nothing compared to the value of my son's life to me, and the knowledge that he has a good friend by his side.

My wife and I hope to meet you some day. You are welcome to come by anytime.

To a long friendship -

Yours truly,

Eliezer D. Solomon

"I am so sorry," said Ben, "It is so embarrassing." He started shoving mushrooms into his mouth to distract himself from the surrounding pressure.

"Ben – that's my line," said Harry, his hands still gripping the letter in disbelief. "I can't take this money from you – I saved you because you're my friend."

"Oh Harry. This is exactly why you deserve it!" said an exasperated Poppy. "I still don't understand why the world works this way, where good people turn down good things and bad people just take without question."

"Look, if you won't take it because I want you to, at least take it because of the life debt," said Ben.

"I already released you from the debt!"

"Then consider it a matter of honor. Please, just take it. It's really no bother."

Harry furrowed his brows. "Well... does that mean you gave money to Riddle too?" Not that Harry wanted Riddle to get any funds, but he was trying to prove a point.

There was a sigh to his left.

"Riddle went after you, not Ben," said Barty offhandedly.

"But. What does that even -" Harry started to ask, but Ben interrupted.

Ben continued, "The others described Saturday's events to me. From how I see it, I owe you, maybe not a life debt since you've released me, but I owe something. You know, you chased after me at risk to your self." Was this not how friends were supposed to act? Harry was so confused. He, Ron, and Hermione tend to sacrifice themselves for each other all the time.

"But..." Harry struggled. "I really don't feel right taking this, but your father took it out of my hands."

"Oh, don't worry about it, it wouldn't seem that way with how modestly Ben dresses, but he's actually somewhat wealthy," said Poppy. "Their family is filled with barristers, several generations deep, you know. They're behind Goldstein & Soloman."

"Oh. You're one of those old families?" Harry asked, not remembering hearing the name Solomon in the future.

"Yes and no," Ben said. "My family is proudly mixed-blood in heritage, even though the first wizard in our family goes way back. We have a mirrored muggle side of the business too." Vaguely, this reminded Harry of the time Winifred told him about her mum also being a solicitor, and he sighed internally.

"Also, were you aware they're the only family legal practice that isn't completely overrun with Slytherins?" said Michael boisterously, causing everyone around to laugh.

Harry imagined that's why he hadn't heard much of the law practice. Most of them must have been killed off some time between the Grindelwald and Voldemort wars. Moving on, he opened the Gringott's scroll.

18 October 1943

Mr. Harium Key:

Gringotts Bank received notice of a pending deposit made to your name, but our records indicate that you are not associated with any account. Before you may lay claim to the gold, you must come to our establishment to open an account as the funds are in holding. During this holding period, the transfer will be ineligible for interest gains.

In spite of the Key account holders being announced deceased several years ago, the funds available in your vault have not been distributed, due to lack of a will. If you wish to claim this vault, that option is available to you upon verification of your lineage.

On the tenth year past their recorded death date, the funds will be released to the ministry sans half the interest earned which will be forfeited to Gringotts Bank per the agreement of the Goblin-Wizard Act of 1612, Section XXIII, part c. Any claim to these vaults past this date must be appealed to the appropriate Ministry of Magic department and made public record.

Sincerely,

Helmlok

Chief of the Department of Account Services

Gringotts Bank

What luck that Dippet happened to give Harry an all-access pass to leave Hogwarts. Harry decided it would be useful to start opening an account. While he still felt uncomfortable with the idea of being rewarded for just valuing a friend's life, there was tickling relief with the windfall.

If he were to be stuck in this timeline, he needed to start seriously considering resources and future employment. He had no OWLs, but hopefully his NEWTs would be sufficient to prove competency for employment. Maybe he could just invest in products and companies that he knew were going to do well in the future.

He wasn't sure what to do with the Key inheritance. His surname was a cover, and it may seem strange to the goblins that he would not even attempt to claim it. It was possible he could try and luck out since most wizarding families were related, but he imagined that if that were true, someone would have tried to claim the Key Family Vault already.

And secondly, he had to wonder what would happen if he were to do this inheritance claiming and he was identified as a Potter instead. Now there was the opening to a line of questioning he wasn't comfortable with triggering.

He wondered if the Goblins would mind keeping his secrets before Harry remembered that they probably would... for a fee. Sighing, he stored both letters away, deciding that he needed to think about this some more.

…

In Potions later that week, after a particularly grueling lesson on brewing feasts, Slughorn asked him to stay after class.

"Yes, Professor?" Harry said, nearly coughing after he got a whiff of someone's potion – like inhaling burnt turkey essence.

"Are you still considering testing the effects of Amortentia on yourself?" asked Slughorn, organizing the finished assignments on his desk.

"I'm, er, not sure," said Harry. Part of him wanted to stay in denial. Would testing be an insult to Ginny's memory, an indication he didn't trust her? After so long, it just did not seem relevant anymore. "I will let you know if I change my mind?"

"Of course, of course." Slughorn was mumbling to himself, seeming to want to say something else, but it was dragging on a bit too long so Harry made a move to turn and leave.

Slughorn coughed and stopped him again. "Actually, there's something else I wanted to ask... I wanted you to join me Saturday for an evening tea... around 8pm?" The tone was hopeful.

"What for?" asked Harry warily, although from the gleam in Slughorn's eyes – similar to the gleam he remembered from when he met Slughorn for the first time half a century from now, he knew what this was going to be about.

"I would like to offer you an invitation to my pet project, the exclusive Slug Club," the professor said, propping himself up to his full size. "I meant to invite you much earlier, of course, but with your previous status having been 'Temporary' I was not so sure it was wise... From I have heard of you from the rest of the staff, and your... particular insights on... incoming climates, you would make a fine addition."

Joining Slug Club of this era only made Harry think of exposing himself further to brown-nosing Riddle, an act that made Harry cringe every time he witnessed it.

But not to be rude, especially for all the support that Slughorn had provided, Harry answered, "Of course, sir."

A small thought kept bothering at him, though. If Harry was staying in this era, given no choice, was he not obligated to get rid of early Voldemort? At this point, Harry was sure there was only one Horcrux, probably kept in the Slytherin chambers, and considering Riddle was already a murderer, he should feel no qualms whatsoever about this task. It would be so easy.

His life wasn't personally at risk until his actual date of birth, and yes, a lot of people would be gone in the butterfly effects, but it would simply make sense to eliminate Voldemort and save as much of the wizarding population as possible.

But he did feel qualms. Something about murder in cold blood, made him a bit fearful, because Voldemort here had the face of a 16-year-old boy, who while self-serving, manipulative, possible psychotic, definitely sociopathic... Harry was losing his train of thought. Did Voldemort deserve it? Yes. And it made destroying him so much easier because his face was so like a monster he was almost inhuman. But Tom Riddle of 1943's face... Did this Tom Riddle deserve it? Probably, if his destiny as dark lord was inevitable. Harry had an obligation, right? He couldn't let his parents die just to preserve as much of his timeline as possible.

Except... did this Tom Riddle who managed to save Harry's life deserve it? Harry shook away the thought. There had to be a solution. He knew he likely had a duty to rid the world of Voldemort, but something inside him was reluctant.

As he walked to lunch, he kept debating this over and over again, knowing this question wouldn't be solved today.

Perhaps, perhaps Tom Riddle killed Myrtle by accident, and probably only killed his muggle family this past summer out of a passionate rage. But Harry daydreamed that in some fantasy world, he would be able to help Riddle control his psychopathy. Having saved Harry for no apparent purpose was a step in the right direction.

…

When Battle Club rolled around at the end of the week, Harry was seriously considering spending his Fridays elsewhere. It was a month and a half and he still had not been chosen to participate in the games. There were certainly a lot of students, but by now Professor Merrythought was almost done cycling her roster through a second time (and in the case of her daughter, the fourth time). While Harry had enjoyed watching the games, the battles were making him antsy and watching was getting boring when it seemed like Merrythought had forgotten all about him.

As she was making her picks for the second round of the night, she was making choices that made the room somehow quieter than the usual respectful silence during the tagging process.

She was walking around the room slowly, her boots making heavy thumps against the ground as she made the rounds, tagging students all around, but instructing them not to attack as they'd all be one team, changing the normal rules of the club. When she seemed done, there were about 15 students who stood confused on the platform. With some dramatic flair, she paused, hands steeple-d before her lips.

The platform was big, but Harry doubted a 15 against 15 would allow for much room for maneuvering. Maybe a crowded space was part of the goal. Maybe she was going to put in "innocents". Either way, there was a high probability Harry could be picked to participate soon.

Almost as if reading his mind, Merrythought announced her plans, but not quite the plans he had considered:

"Mr. Riddle. Mr. Key. Please come to the platform. Fifteen against two. Start on the whistle."

She didn't have to speak very loudly for her voice to carry through the room. There were some excited whispers and gasps all around.

"She's given Riddle 5 against 1 a few years ago but now she just limits the spells he uses. This is new," he overhead someone explaining.

Some of the fifteen included some top players. And except for some of his Defense classmates, most would be clueless as to his proficiency with basic shields and attacks. While Harry's original plan was to not put on his best O-level skill, mostly to prevent Riddle from knowing too much in case killing him became part of the plan, there were some condescending sneers from other houses and years who were predicting he'd just get in Riddle's way. So Harry decided not to just play by A-levels either.

He had already been a decent defense student, but with the extra reading he'd done while killing time in the library, with time spent only around Hermione for months in the first half of seventh year, without adventures and lazying time with Ron getting in the way, he was probably even better than when facing down Voldemort after sixth year. He knew he couldn't defeat duelists like Flitwick and Moody, but he could hold his own in desperate situations.

After Riddle and Harry stepped onto the platform, there was a rather uncomfortable moment just standing there as they waited for Merrythought to blow the whistle. Harry could see a high percentage of players in front of him eyeing him as if to take him down first ('and quickly', he saw someone mouth).

It irritated him a bit. He liked the anonymity of this era but was starting to resent the dismissive lack of regard by these people. Harry considered himself an okay sort of bloke but no likes being put down, especially dismissed next to the smarmy Riddle.

He did not being eyed like prey – like he had been as a child growing up with Dudley or when surrounded by older dark wizards.

The stall seemed to last forever. But Harry was alert and waiting for it, especially since he had a feeling almost all wands would be trained on him. He needed every advantage he could get, so he wordlessly and wandless willed himself lighter – it wasn't the most powerful application of the charm but it was better than nothing.

At the first millisecond of the whistle, Harry immediately jabbed a leaping charm at his feet and flew in the air, the minor effect of his weak featherlight charm and the sheer force of power the threw into the charm forced him to fly pretty high. While he looked down, he saw all fifteen spells fizzle harmless into a muddled rainbow against the platform barrier. Riddle gracefully dodged the strays and was already starting on taking down the confused fifteen that scattered when they realized Harry wasn't where they had expected. In the precious few seconds he had before gravity would start working against him, he pointed down and cast wide-spread "Molta Minuet Incend!" loudly and conspiciously. Like he intended, the students below looked up at the sound of his voice, only to shriek when they saw little balls of fire hurling down towards them.

The spell author called it "raining fire." Rather apocalyptic. And overall entirely harmless. Its only goal was a lightshow – to scare, barely sting the targets, and set up for a second spell.

At the sight of what looked to be impending doom, many of the students cast shields and counters towards the danger coming from up top. Some even directly cast hexes upwards, to be the one to get credit for taking down Harry.

This left a wide opening for Riddle to swoop in and bind the most aggressive students while Harry conjured a heavy net to incapacitate the rest who were mostly defending themselves against spells and not physical objects, which was exactly the point.

All in all, the battle was over by the time Harry floated gently back down to the ground – a recast featherlight charm prevented unnecessary accidents but Harry swore someone must have cast a cushioning charm before his feet. A full fifteen seconds since the start of the whistle. It was a slaughter. He had to squelch the part of him that felt pleased. It felt good. Really good. He couldn't remember the last time a fight was that easy.

He didn't mean to help wipe them out so quickly, but really – in spite of its dramatics, being a gang of fifteen actually made these students weaker.

Without a clear leader, each assumed someone else would handle their problems, preventing many from acting intelligently. The spacing also left little for maneuvering on the stage. Harry and Riddle had a natural advantage with this in mind but due to the dramatic flair of 2 v. 15, the victory looked far more impressive than it actually was.

Power only mattered if you were caught in a deadlock spell, say... Priori Incantem bonds or breaking out of Imperios. Ultimately, duels were purely speed and deception.

This battle was almost boring, a sure sign of students who felt mostly untouched by the current war and knew little tragedy in their families.

Looking around, people were amazed, and murmuring amongst themselves as Merrythought checked on the students. The pressure made Harry feel cold on the inside, like he accidentally began a shifting reality that he had no idea how to predict the outcome of. His place here was changing, and it made him nervous. It made him regret participating in this Club, but he hid his turmoil under a blank expression.

Standing up from her platform-side seat, Merrythought nodded. "A fine job." She checked the time, a bit disappointed. "I really did think that'd last a lot longer. Perhaps a battle between Mr. Riddle and Mr. Key?"

There were some supportive claps. Harry started wondering if he could 'accidentally' kill Riddle and get away with it here.

It was Riddle who delayed the showdown, though. "Professor? I actually have to go meet up with Headmaster Dippet now."

"Oh, yes, go along. Harry, you can head back to your seat."

….

Harry decided not to go to Gringotts that weekend, mostly because it was a Hogsmeade Weekend and Poppy wanted them all to go to the newly opened Madame Puddifoots. Harry felt it inappropriate to jump straight into claiming gold when he could be spending time with friends instead.

Unfortunately there was one task he couldn't just push aside: Slughorn's dinner.

Turns out, the blonde that Harry thought was Malfoy was actually Avery – or, to be precise, Cain Avery, who was far more attractive up close. Harry vaguely remembered an Avery from one of the memories Dumbledore had shown him but Harry hadn't been paying much attention to any of Riddle's gang. His hair was neatly parted at the side, his nose was slightly upturned, and he had, overall, sharp features – characteristic of a pureblood with "good breeding." The only physical flaw it seemed was that his neutral face tended to be deformed into a sneer, upper lip exposing slightly crooked teeth. "I actually assumed you were a Malfoy," Harry said, partially conversationally partially trying to goad him into giving him more information.

Avery looked miffed. "I'm not. My mother is an Aelstrom." At Harry's blank look, Avery elaborated – "Forgot you lived under a rock before coming here – she's a witch from a very good family in Sweden." Here, Harry took "good" meaning pureblood. And at first he wasn't really sure why he mentioned his mother was from Sweden, but then it occurred to Harry that Avery had been trying to explain that his mother was very blonde.

There were a lot of weird logical leaps he had to make here. Talking to Slytherins was hard.

In contrast, the other boys were a bit more average looking.

Lestrange was surly – with prominent eyes, a wide jaw that had a shadow of a shaved growing beard, and dark brown almost black hair.

Nott had temple length dark hair to go with his thick dark brows like his future grandson (or great nephew – like with Cedric, Harry could never be sure about which of the people he knew in the future were direct or indirect descendants of his current day classmates), but had somewhat softer facial features, a long neck, and dark rings under his eyes, as if perpetually tired. Unlike Lestrange who was built gruff, Nott was thinner and more knobbly.

Rosier was a bit smaller than the rest of his group, but that didn't make him particularly runt-like. Oddly enough, Harry would almost say he looked fairly friendly, but it would probably be because the boy didn't frown as severely as the others in the group. He wore a slightly open expression and had reddish-brown slightly ruffled hair. The boy seemed to listen in rapt attention any time Riddle spoke.

Of the Slytherins who would one day make up Riddle's Death Eaters, Harry only knew the quiet Nott from classes since he was a seventh year like Harry. This is how he knew Nott always looked tired, and not just today.

Rosier was someone Harry couldn't place, but he definitely recognized the face from somewhere. The only reason why Harry knew he had to have met Rosier at some point was that Rosier seemed to look cross any time he met Harry's gaze. Like Harry personally offended him.

On the other side of the table sat some younger students Harry didn't know very well, but apparently there was a first year that was the daughter of the sitting Editor of the Daily Prophet.

Riddle of course sat at the head of the table, facing the entrance, stealing the power seat from even Slughorn who sat closer to the middle to be more deep in the conversations. So far during the tea, Riddle was a bit pre-occupied with chatting with his house-mates.

Harry had been surprised that none of his Gryffindor friends were in the Slug Club, but apparently it wasn't uncommon for people to leave the club. Johnson was a strong Quidditch family but apparently not good enough for Slughorn for an invite. Poppy was initially invited early first year, she left by the first Christmas party due to pressure from her mother – Slughorn had used first-year Poppy as an opening to talk more with Merrythought. And Ben left because it just wasn't enjoyable for him. Although he would have liked to similarly not attend like his friends, Harry had a bit of an obligation to at least amuse Slughorn with his presence.

"Harry, my boy!" Slughorn said conversation mid-evening, "I heard you made a very impressive showing at the Battle Club just yesterday."

Well that's embarrassing. This wasn't modesty – he felt all this praise was undeserved – truthfully, Merrythought's "challenge" was just badly designed... but he wasn't going to go around insulting a good professor, let alone a professor who was his friend's mother, so he kept his mouth shut. Harry rubbed the back of his neck. "Actually I sort of think there shouldn't be much of a big deal. All I did was think quickly and surprise them."

"Nonsense. How modest of you. What do you think, Tom?"

Riddle looked indifferently towards Harry before glancing back at the professor before given a slow "pleasant" smile. "Oh, Harry," – still, why with the first name – "I've been meaning to ask, have you gotten your inheritance yet? The Keys.

Harry felt rather than saw Slughorn squirm uncomfortably. Unfortunately, Riddle caught it. The Slytherin's eyes had flickered quickly to the professor before returning to rest on Harry, the slow devious smile growing on his face. The bastard probably saw the Gringott's owl earlier. Riddle already knew Harry was not a Key – but now thought Harry's real surname was Dagworth-Granger. He was just rubbing it in.

"I... haven't asked," Harry answered slowly, not breaking eye contact.

"I can't imagine they locked it away yet – you should inquire. You are entitled to it as sole heir, aren't you?" And then Riddle swiftly changed topics by addressing the upcoming Wizengamot agenda.

Harry was starting to see the bleakness of the day-to-day of his new semi-permanent life, sprinkled with the danger of a scheming future Dark Lord.

…

Authors Note: I have no excuse. (Well, I mean I can list lots of excuses, but it doesn't really matter to you as readers.) So all I can say is sorry and hope to do better in the future. I've got the next chapter finished – just needs some fine tuning. And the chapter after that is also almost done.