A/N: Well, here goes, fingers crossed that this is marginally better? Thanks for the reviews. Tell me what you think - The Fictionist.
Chapter 7
Harry sat in the common room, his eyes dull and his mind many miles away. Despite his initial happiness in seeing his 1949 crew again, he wasn't sure if them following him back was an entirely good thing. In the nicest possible way: he didn't trust them.
He was seeing even less of Ron and Hermione…they were his best friends, he could tell when something was bothering them. The Slytherins were starting to severely tax their patience reserves. How was this ever going to work out?
The rest of the house, barring certain individuals, were starting to turn hostile too. Ever since that trip to the past he hadn't been able to mesh with them, tolerate their quirks, as easily as he had done previously. He grown accustomed to the (relative) privacy of Slytherin. Now, everyone wanted a piece of him. It was first year all over again! everyone stared.
Sometimes he wondered what the hell Tom was thinking when he followed through time and space…okay, just time, but the space bit sounded good. Zevi was right about that - Tom didn't do go through time for most people. To be honest, Tom only did things that benefited Tom. Which led him to wonder what the latest scheme was? Perhaps, perhaps it was time for the "golden trio" to do some investigating again. He still couldn't believe people called them that. Step one: annoy Tom as much as possible and divulge his intentions.
___
'Harry,' Tom walked over, leaning against the Gryffindor table. Hermione's eyes widened at how fast he reacted. Ron merely looked a little smug, but he was stifling the expression in accordance to the plan. Ah, he loved his friends.
'Tom,' he mimicked, not looking up and helping himself to some more toast. He looked at Ron and Hermione. 'So are you coming to the pitch later, on?' he asked absently.
'Do you really have to ask, mate?' Ron replied with an easy grin. The redhead moved to take some more bacon, prompting Hermione to whack him with her book.
'Do you ever stop eating?' she demanded. Harry smirked, shaking his head. They both exchanged a look.
'Stupid question Mi, stupid question.'
'Harry,' Tom's voice had turned colder. He still didn't look up though.
'Hi - you do know you've already said my name once?' Ron almost choked on his pumpkin juice, causing the Dark Lord to be to send him a scathing look. Hermione started to look a bit nervous when Tom's magic started bubbling.
'Stop ignoring me.'
'I'm not,' he replied calmly. 'If I was ignoring you I wouldn't reply, would I?' By now, half the school were watching their confrontation. Abraxas and Draco were sitting together, frozen mid speech and Zevi had a long-suffering look on his face. So did Snape. It was actually quite a creepy resemblance. Ha! they were both eating Rice Crispies and chopped banana. Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling in a manner that was far from good and Theodore Nott appeared to be in awe at witnessing one of their "legendary" conflicts.
Tom's eyes had narrowed, flicks of red appearing among the frosted violet. His aura had pooled around him in his irritation.
Suddenly, the aura vanished, replaced by a singularly beautiful smile.
'Do you honestly believe that tactic is going to work? I don't fall for the same trick twice.' Damn. He figured it out. Oh well.
He shrugged. 'Voldemort falls for it every time…it's incredibly amusing.'
'Lord Voldemort,' Tom deadpanned, seemingly unable to kick the habit of correcting him.
'Yeah. Him. Snake-faced, red-eyed? your megalomaniac, insane future self?'
'And you wonder why most of the dark side want you dead.' He just realised what he was doing, and inwardly cursed. No banter! keep it more formal. It was so tempting though.
'Do you honestly believe that tactic is going to work? I don't fall for the same trick twice.'
'No?' Tom smirked. 'Funny that, because you fall for the whole hero-complex, saving people bait every single time.' Silence. Damn.
'I do not have a hero-complex.' Tom patted his head mockingly. 'Of course you don't Potter, of course you don't.' Then he walked away. He exchanged a grimace with Ron and Hermione.
Well, that one backfired.
___
He sat in the back of the Defence classroom, bored out of his mind and staring listlessly at the glossy pages of Slinkhard's…you couldn't even call it a defence book. It was useless. He sighed, tipping his head back to stare at the - pink! - ceiling. Salazar, Umbridge made him want to vomit.
'Mr Potter,' she cooed immediately. He moved his gaze slowly from the ceiling, to a much less interesting figure. The women trotted across the classroom, clutching her vile pink handbag to her loathsome pink coat. 'Is there a problem?' It was that horrible, sugary voice that did it.
'There's nothing in here about actually learning defensive spells?' he questioned coldly. He saw her eyes bug out.
'Using them? you mean? I don't see why you would need to use spells in my classroom.'
'That would be the point of a magical education, to learn,' he replied.
'Harry!' Hermione moaned, giving him a warning look. He met the toad's face squarely.
'You are learning in a risk free, ministry improved environment Mr Potter - unless you think that you know better than the ministry?'
'A five year old,' he said slowly. 'Would know better than the ministry.' Her face twisted, her voice rising into a high pitched squeal.
'DETENTION!'
'For asking a question?' he knew he was pushing his luck. But the whole time travel/Voldemort/incompetent teacher mixture had him on edge. Venting felt good.
'For disobeying the ministry,' she whispered, calmer now.
'The ministry are a bunch of fools.' Tom. Wow.
'Detention to you too, Mr Riddle,' she simpered. The death eaters all made to stand up, only to stop at Tom's sharp look.
'Can I call my lawyer on this?'
'A muggle can't possibly work our world, my dear.' Oh dear. Strike three. She was out.
'What about squibs?' Tom taunted. 'Because in that case you really aren't fit to teach us.'
Burn…
Umbridge's pencil snapped in her hands.