A/N: Second chapter of the rewrite. Hope it's an improvement, or any good at all. Enjoy!
Chapter 12:
Harry talked until his voice turned hoarse.
He told them about the Dementor attack, about blacking out with the sensation of getting his soul sucked out and landing painfully on top of Tom and Tom's cauldron a second later and 50 odd years before. He told them how he had been sorted into Slytherin, despite his pleads and about the Slytherin heir's ruthless curiosity, that ended up with them both hospitalised on Halloween Night.
He skimmed over many arguments and late night conversations (partially due to waking up from nightmares) and onto a vague acceptance that maybe the Dark Arts weren't the pure evil he had imagined them do be.
Most of the Gryffindors had gawped in outrage but he spoke before they could express their feelings of betrayal. He smiled slightly in relating several explosive 'debates' on Blood Purity, and how he had eventually convinced Tom that maybe Pure Blood didn't mean superior. He also decided it would be prudent to mention that Tom had persuaded him on the issue that muggleborns really should learn a bit about Wizarding culture and tradition before marching in and complaining about it.
He considered it a win, win.
Hermione had looked thoughtful at the suggestion, her eyes glittering with that old intellectual curiosity. He smirked to himself, knowing that Tom would soon be interrogated on his views by a Hermione on a mission. Oh, not straight away, but at some point those two were going to end up debating. It was practically inevitable. He could only hope that Tom would be nice to her. He doubted it though.
He touched on the rest of the year very briefly, only stating that they had grown closer and that no, the rumours were not true and he wasn't actually the young Dark Lord's lover. He came to an abrupt halt, before shrugging.
"That's about it," he concluded.
"He's still Tom Riddle," Ginny said, looking strained. "Harry, I trusted him too and look where that got me! He can act charming but he's a bastard!"
"A total one," Harry agreed. "When he wants to be." She seemed surprised that he actually conceded to the point.
"Then why are you friends with him?" Fred asked, folding his arms. "If he's such a git. I mean, c'mon - think about what he did to my sister!"
"That wasn't him," Harry said automatically. "Hasn't happened to him yet."
"Harry," Hermione sighed despairingly.
"I'm not in denial!" he continued quickly, staring at her. She appeared to remain unconvinced, but to his great relief didn't press the subject.
"This doesn't mean we have to like him, does it?" Ron asked finally.
Harry grinned.
He trudged into the Great Hall early that morning - it was 7am - and breakfast had started. It was open from 7am to 9am. Classes started at 10 past 9.
None of his Gryffindor friends were up, but that wasn't particularly abnormal. Harry used to sleep late too, he still would, he was an early riser through established routine (Dursley's) and insomnia rather than preference. He glamoured himself, hiding the almost violently dark bags of sleep under his bloodshot eyes. It hadn't been a good night. It never was.
He entered the Great Hall to see Snape and Flitwick at the Staff table, and the hall mainly empty with only a scattering of Ravenclaws, a couple of badgers, a set of overexcited and nervous first year Gryffindors and several Slytherins.
Including his Slytherins.
Well, not his. But from his time. Crap. Not his time. The past - that was all he meant.
Tom and Zevi were among them. Zevi was just an early riser, he knew that, but Tom slept pretty normally when he bothered. Of course, Tom tended to be too busy to sleep with all of his insane experiments and schemes going through at once, but when he slept he slept peacefully. That meant that he was awake because of Harry then. He paused briefly on whether he was obligated to sit alone on the Lion table, before walking over and taking the seat on Tom's right.
"Coffee?" Tom smirked. He took the cup, waking up slightly at the tantalising smell of caffeine. It was at the perfect temperature. He loved magic.
"My hero," he murmured, taking a large gulp.
"And here was me thinking you might last a sentence before insulting me," Tom said dryly. Harry smirked. "Sleeping as terribly as ever then?" The Slytherin heir continued a little more gravely.
The smirk vanished, replaced by a shrug as he drank some more of his favourite drink… aside from the mango juice that Abraxas' house elves made - that was to die for. He noted that Snape and Flitwick were both staring at the three of them.
"Wow, I really missed my breakfast chit chat turned interrogation," he remarked sarcastically. Zevi coughed into his cereal and chopped bananas.
"Of course you did," Tom replied wickedly. "It means you get to spend time with me." Harry smiled slightly in amusement.
"Naturally Tom, that's EXACTLY what I meant," he drawled. "It's not just your insanely large ego talking at all." Tom laughed.
"Haven't lost any of your insolence in 50 years time then?" he replied, with something that may have been fondness on anyone else than Tom. "I'd have thought you'd have matured a little."
"What, and deprive you from the mental stimulation of my insults? Never! You'd be bored as hell," Harry retorted.
"I'm sure I'd find something to amuse myself if you decided respect wasn't too high an aim for you," Tom arched his brows. He didn't look irritated though.
"Nope," Harry decided thoughtfully, grinning. "I'm pretty sure it's too high an aim for me."
"Or that's your excuse anyway," Zevi commented. His grin widened. Tom shook his head.
"Remind me, why do I put up with you again?"
"Because I'm awesome,"Harry said promptly, before pausing. "And you fail at murdering me. But it's mainly because I'm awesome. Obviously."
"Obviously," Tom said, though Harry felt the other's gaze focus on him with an alarming intensity at the statement.
They lapsed into a comfortable silence.
Ron and Hermione entered some time later, their eyes scanning the Gryffindor table before snapping to him with the Slytherins.
Tom was studying them in an appraising manner. Harry just knew he was cataloguing everything about them in his eerily Holmesian way. His best friends hesitated a second, before Hermione's insatiable thirst for knowledge (almost as bad as Tom's) took over and she tugged Ron over by the sleeve. The rest of the Slytherins went absolutely silent.
"Hi Harry, we looked for you in the Common Room, but you were already gone," Hermione began nervously, seemingly not sure if she should be ignoring the Slytherin's or not. "Er, McGonagall asked me to give you your time table." She handed the sheet to him and he took it with a smile.
"Thanks Hermione," he said. He scanned the timetable briefly, ignoring the way he could sense Tom lean over to read it. She opened her mouth to speak again, but was interrupted smoothly.
"So you're Hermione," Tom mused, as if he wasn't already fully aware of it, his eyes flicking up from Harry's timetable. "And you're Ron Weasley?" Tom glanced at Ron with a slight curve of his lips. "Harry's best friends."
"Yeah, that's right," Ron said, rather aggressively.
"Tom Riddle," Tom held out a slender-fingered hand to shake. Ron didn't move, so Hermione tentatively shook his hand, her eyes widening slightly when Tom brushed his lips against her knuckles in the typical Pure Blood greeting.
Harry was instantly suspicious.
Ron began to look a little red faced.
"This here is Zevi Prince, Abraxas Malfoy, Cygnus Lestrange and Alphard Black," Tom introduced.
"Pleasure, I'm sure," Alphard greeted easily. Harry noticed the slight hidden grimace that tucked the corners of the Black's lips though.
"Granger?" Abraxas questioned. "Are you perhaps related to Dagworth-Granger?" There was a moment of silence.
"I'm a muggleborn," Hermione said in a proud voice, her chin jutting up slightly.
"Oh joy," Lestrange muttered. "Evans is a Gryffindor and a mudblood lover. How did I guess?" Harry's eyes narrowed.
"Shut your mouth Lestrange," Ron snarled. "She's ten times the witch or wizard you'll ever be!"
"Someone's got a crush," Lestrange sang with a smarmy satisfaction. Harry could feel Tom's eyes on him and nearly frowned.
"Someone's -" he started venomously.
"-Now, now Lestrange," Tom cut in charmingly. "Let's remember our manners, whatever would your mother say to your deplorable lack of decorum?" Lestrange shot Tom a startled look, but fell deathly silent with a light flush staining his cheeks. Hermione watched Tom with a slightly puzzled expression.
Okay, Harry was definitely suspicious now.
"Excuse me," he said tightly. Damn it. Couldn't he have one day before his life started going to hell? He'd known it would be difficult to mesh his life as Harry Potter and Harrison Evans together, but he hadn't realised it would be this bad from day one!
"No, no," Tom waved a hand dismissively. "You and your friends can sit down," he said politely, before winking. "You can give us all the dirt on Potter."
Harry just knew it was all entirely false and knew that Tom knew that he knew too. Hermione looked uncertain, but not entirely convinced thankfully. Ron had a foul expression on his face.
"It's fine," the red head said, in as civil a tone as he could apparently manage. "We'll see you later, alright mate?"
"Yeah, awesome, I'll be with you in just a sec," he said.
Harry waited until they had sat down at the Gryffindor table before glaring at the Slytherins, and specifically Tom.
"What?" the young Dark Lord asked innocently, his eyes glittering.
"You know what," he replied. "Whatever you're scheming, I swear to god you better keep my friend's out of it."
"Sounds rather threatening, doesn't he?" Tom asked the others, lazily. Harry ground his teeth in frustration.
"I'm serious." Tom looked up at him, his head tilted to one side with a distinctly predatory air.
"I gathered," he replied. Harry slammed his coffee down, getting up to sit with Ron and Hermione. In a instant, Tom had grabbed hold of his wrist, just tight enough that it was uncomfortably firm.
"Relax will you? Your little pet lions are safe from me. I have no interest in them, nor does their mutilation benefit me in any way exept momentary amusement."
"That supposed to reassure me?" he asked, raising a brow.
"Scouts honour, golden boy. Now go and catch up with your friends. I'll see you in DADA."
Tom released his wrist with a slight sting as his nail cut in, drawing a minute dot of blood.
"You know, you're not a boy scout either," Harry said.
Tom merely smirked at him.
Salazar. He was doomed.