Dissindere Temporalis
So here we are, Chapter 3.
This one is a little bit of a bridging chapter.
Chapter 4 is going to be one you've all been waiting for...
Thank you to those who review, your feedback and the warm happy feeling I get seeing that notification help fuel this story
Enjoy!
Chapter 3: Tempora mutantur
"The secret of change is to focus all of your energy not on fighting the old, but on building the new"
- Socrates
The next two months were two of the busiest of Harry's life.
Soon the Castle of Linn, or just Linn to most of the residents, was full of people. Genevieve Malfoy and Hector Dagworth-Granger stopped by in the first week, and both were cautious about approaching Malfoy and Hermione respectably.
Mr Dagworth-Granger followed Hermione with his eyes as she bustled about, organising everything they needed to do into lists, and there was a deep sadness on his face when he did. He was a genial man, fun and jolly the rest of the time, and his love for potions was almost infectious.
He and Ron developed an ongoing back and forth, Ron insisting that Potions was the worst, with Mr Dagworth insisting he'd prove him wrong. It was entertaining to watch, and often ended in the pair sitting at either side of a chess table, heckling each other as they played.
Mr Dagworth had also insisted there was no reason for Harry not to be good at Potions.
"Young man, there are two kinds of magical proficiency." he insisted, barrel chest puffing out in indignation, "Magical learning, and Magical instinct." He gestured, "Duelling is instinct married with learning. You learn spells but in the heat of a duel you're not going to recite a spell list. It's fast, instinctive. You're reacting and instigating in a split second. You're a natural at that, but…" and here he eyed Harry over his glasses, "I suspect you've relied on Miss Hermione, and a small repertoire of spells that you bulldoze through with power and speed."
Harry winced.
Mr Dagworth-Granger smacked him on the shins with his walking stick and Harry yelped, "Lazy! There will be no more of that! And as for potions, that is also an art of instinct. You have to feel it. A good potioneer will follow instructions, exact measurements etc." he winked, "A master, or a natural, will learn the relationships between the ingredients. Why this reaction, this ingredient, this cauldron. It's a subtle art."
Harry glanced over at the others at that. Malfoy was smirking, Ron rolling his eyes and Hermione looked like she was trying not to laugh.
They were all remembering, much like he was, Snape's first potions lecture. It was strange to hear it again from an old man so different from the bat-like professor.
"Some people will never find that contemplative, almost meditative state where it all makes sense." Mr Dagworth-Granger sighed softly, "But it is one of the most satisfying feelings in the world. It simply…clicks. And it's easier for instinctive magical users like you, Potter." he pointed his cane at Hermione, "You think too much,"
Hermione spluttered, and Ron burst out laughing. Mr Dagworth-Granger immediately rounded on him.
"You're a strategist, boy. You will never understand. You like quantifiables, you lack imagination."
Charlie, interjected as he was passing by, "Sodding good at curse unraveling and wards though."
That inspired a new tirade, with Mr Dagworth-Granger following Charlie as he left the room, loudly declaiming how Charlie had wasted his talent at potions, and the younger man laughing all the while.
Meanwhile Dorea and Mrs Malfoy drilled them in etiquette. There was not a moment that they weren't held to standard, and the two women were unyielding in their demand for perfection, or as close as they could get. Here Draco had the advantage, but he had other problems to deal with. Unlearning already ingrained habits.
Apparently there had been changes, slight, small changes, to Pureblood society in the decades from 1938 to their original time. It was the small variances that tripped Draco up.
"You 'ave to be perfect." Mrs Malfoy informed them, her husky voice having only a slight French accent, flicking a light stinging hex against Ron's tapping fingers and making him yelp, "There is a level of decorum expected and you and you and you would 'ave been raised with it," she pointed her wand at Harry and Draco and Hermione.
"Then why are you picking on me? Bloody hell," Ron grouched, rubbing his hand.
Mrs Malfoy smiled sweetly, but wickedly, "You 'ave been friends with 'Arry and "Ermione and Draco for years no? You will 'ave been 'eld to standards when visiting them."
Ron grumbled, but didn't argue any further.
Mrs Malfoy flourished her wand, "It must be as natural as breathing. You must not be thinking about it. If you think, people will be suspicious. You are after all meant to 'ave been living this your whole life. If you succeed no one will notice your behaviour because it will be expected. Fail and people will look at you with suspicion, and wonder why."
Gently she pinched Draco's cheek, a small smile on her face, "You especially. If you are sorted into Slytherin once more you will be observed. But you know this." Her blue eyes flicked towards Harry and a faint smirk touched her lips, "As will you, Mr Potter."
Dorea however focused primarily on Hermione, teaching her the social graces that were expected of a young lady and, Harry suspected, training her in other arts too.
For someone as independent as Hermione, raised in a time without the societal constraints as now did, this time chafed.
"Don't worry," Malfoy assured her, drawling like he didn't care, "You're going to be a Half-Blood. And your Guardian is going to allow you all the freedom you could want."
"Allow me?" Hermione seethed, and Harry and Ron took a discrete step backwards, "Like I need someone to grant me permission?!"
Malfoy swallowed, going pale, "Er."
Hermione's nostrils flared dangerously.
"I'm sure he didn't mean allow, like, allow." Harry weakly tried to help, "I'm sure he just meant it…you know. Like now they'd see it as allowed.. Right?"
Ron shook his head at him, "Mate…"
Hermione whirled on them, "I don't need anyone's permission. And I will NOT be seen as needing it either!"
Harry nodded quickly and Ron raised his hands, "No doubt here."
Thankfully the Wizarding World of this time seemed to be more ahead of their Muggle counterparts, as far as women's rights went anyway. But there was still a distinct difference from the more relaxed attitude of the 90's. Marriage was still expected. Heirs were still expected. But without the more pressing values of church and god, virginity seemed far less prized than in the Muggle world.
However with most people, in this time, marrying others that they met and dated at school, it seemed a moot point.
"Who would you have married if you had to?" Ron asked Harry, incredulous, "Straight out of Hogwarts, you know if we hadn't had to go on the run to stop a madman."
Harry gave it some thought, "Honestly? Probably your sister," he shrugged sheepishly as Ron's nose wrinkled, "If we hadn't gone through what we did…that year. Then yeah…I wanted a family, and yours was the closest I had…"
Ron shook his head, "Ergh."
Harry shoved him lightly.
"What about you then Weasley?" Malfoy's voice broke into the conversation and they looked over at the blond who was eyeing them over his book, "Who would you have married and dragged back to your cave?"
A sneer curved his mouth and Harry saw Ron flush with temper.
"Malfoy," he warned and Draco flicked his eyes over to him before turning back to Ron.
"Let me rephrase that. If you had to marry someone right out of Hogwarts, who would it have been."
It was as close as Malfoy would get to an apology, and thankfully it was enough to simmer Ron down.
"Hermione, I guess?" he considered, "Maybe?"
Draco snickered, and Ron scowled again. "No, no, sorry Weasley, but I cannot see you two living in marital bliss. She's someone who needs to keep reaching, and learning and trying. And you're… well you're not. You're also someone who gets threatened by being second best, and frankly next to Granger you would always be second. And second to her love of learning. Not a healthy combination, no matter how much you loved each other."
Harry shrugged helplessly, "Sorry mate, I have to agree."
"Nah, don't be sorry." Ron waved a hand, and there was a small wry smile on his lips, "It's completely true. I honestly would have been completely happy with a woman who wanted to stay at home, raise the kids, and loved me. That's all I really wanted…"
He sounded wistful, and Malfoy nodded, "Doesn't sound like Granger though, does it?"
It turned out that Charlus Potter was a Master Dueller.
"Wow," Ron muttered, as they watched him spar with his wife, who was no slouch either, and Harry nodded, impressed.
Dorea was fluid, always in motion, and always searching for an opening. She was hard to hit, and her constant movement meant that part of Charlie's attention always had to be watching her intently.
Charlie meanwhile was elegant, deflecting and striking with minimal movements and seemingly minimal effort. There was a refinement to his strategy, like he was conserving himself.
It ended in a draw, but Harry was sure that Charlie, as he had insisted Harry call him, had been holding back.
Their wands meant that they could use Magic in the Holidays. They were unregistered, unknown, and the Time travel had made whether the Trace applied to them a murky subject. Still in a magical home it was almost impossible to know who was casting, so all of them were permitted to begin practice.
It was disheartening to feel the magical drain from even the simplest spells. The knowledge being there but the power lacking.
"Time and practice will restore your skills," Dorea reassured them gently, her blue eyes kind as she watched them, "It's much like any physical activity. Some will be more gifted, faster, stronger…but everyone can be improved by practice and conditioning. You children just need to build up your conditioning once more, and with your additional knowledge you'll probably exceed where you were in your original timeframe. Your magic is quite…elastic at this time. It wants to grow, it wants to learn."
Harry noticed Hermione glance at him, before quickly looking away, and he approached her about it after the lesson.
"Oh Harry," she wrung her hands, a worried little frown on her lips, "The last time you went to Hogwarts, you had the…" she waved her hand at his Scar and Harry felt his stomach drop, "I've been worried that…"
"What that the…" he lowered his voice, "Horcrux would be back?"
"It won't." Malfoy's voice was firm as he appeared at their elbows, making Hermione jump, "We haven't been taken back to our eleven year old bodies… Just de-aged."
"Then why has my scar vanished?" Hermione challenged him in a hissed whisper, "And your Mark?"
Malfoy flushed.
"Your Mark's gone?" Harry blinked at Malfoy, "Why wouldn't you tell us?"
"It's not important," Malfoy hissed back, as Ron joined the huddle with a frown, "Leave it."
"It is, if the Horcrux has been restored." Hermione stamped her foot, "We can't have variables when dealing with…him."
"It's not restored!" Malfoy's voice rose as Ron's eyes widened in horror, "Merlin's beard sometimes I forget how little you know about the fundamentals of magic."
Hermione bristled and frankly Harry wasn't particularly thrilled at that either, but Malfoy continued before they could speak up.
"The body has memory, it knew what age the tattoo was branded on me, and as I slid back in time it disappeared. Same with your Scar, Granger. In fact if we'd taken Potter here back to infancy that bloody Scar on his head would have vanished too."
"Then why…?"
"The Horcrux is removed." Malfoy rolled his eyes haughtily, "If you'd lost your eye or your hand or your leg they would also have stayed gone! You weren't returned to the body you had when you were eleven. Your body is returned to its state AT eleven. Since my Mark was acquired at 15, and your Scar at 17…"
"18," she corrected idly, "So, that's why our hair stayed the same. The same cut. It didn't remember the cut we had when we were 11, just if we'd gained scars or wrinkles, they aged out of existence. Like if Harry had had a corrective spell surgery on his eyes."
Malfoy nodded, "That would have reverted."
"This is so weird," Ron shook his head, "But we know the Horcrux is gone? No homicidal thoughts Harry?"
All three of them looked at him, Hermione concerned, Ron with a grin and Malfoy with exasperation.
"No more than usual," Harry quipped, earning himself a laugh and two uncannily similar eye rolls.
He noticed though when they all practised spells the next day that both Hermione and Malfoy rolled up their sleeves.
And he couldn't help but smile when he saw them exchange almost gleeful grins before settling into their practice.
It was night, a month after they'd arrived in this time and Harry and Charlie were sitting atop one of the towers, staring up at the sky.
They'd only spent a little time one-on-one, Harry unsure of how to approach a relative and Charlie seemingly just as stumped. But they'd decided to settle into this weird new relationship they had by talking about something Charlie knew and that Harry longed to know.
His Family history.
So every night they sat up on the tower, and Charlie told him stories of Potters, Potters of generations past or Potters that still lived. And he always tied something to Harry. A shared trait or habit or behaviour that Harry hadn't been aware was something he'd inherited.
Tonight, however, Charlie was quiet.
"This Dark Lord that you're hoping to influence. He'll be in your class at Hogwarts?"
Harry hesitated, and Charlie nodded slowly, "Smart. Coming back this young, people are more likely to be moulded at this age." he eyed Harry carefully, "You mentioned once that he was the best dueller you'd ever seen."
"Yes,"
Charlie leaned back against the battlements and sighed softly, "I have something to tell you, that my father told both me, and Fleamont, before we started. Duelling requires talent, yes. But talent isn't everything. I knew people who were pure naturals, who started out strong, and then faded to mediocrity before we left school. Do you know why?"
"I think so," Harry shifted slightly, "They didn't work at it as much."
Charlie nodded, "Yes. There are some born to fight with wand in hand, naturals who feel what to do. And that aptitude makes them complacent. Then there are those who don't practice, who have no interest in Duelling, or only enough to protect themselves. In a serious Duel… often they don't survive their first serious fight. And then there is the third kind."
"Yes?" Harry asked, looking over at him.
"Those that learn the art. And by learning I mean they use all their extra minutes to train, to hone themselves, not letting their bodies or their magic, or any tutor get the best of them. I tell you this Harry, 8 times out of 10 the one who works hardest, will be the one to win."
Harry thought of Tom Riddle, remembering the small, pale boy in the Orphanage, the memory which was now the present. He thought about everything he knew of Riddle.
He could easily imagine him practising, putting in long hours of bloody minded determination.
The Half-Blood boy with aspersions of grandeur. That wouldn't have made him popular.
Natural talent married with that determination.
"What about me?" he asked quietly, and Charlie turned to face him, expression serious.
"You're talented, and I think you've coasted off that a little. You've relied on Hermione to be your drive, to find you information,." he considered him carefully, "It's strange because you have what every good Slytherin has. That hunger to prove yourself. But I think… from what you've told me. Your fame made you shy away from attention.." the man leaned in, gaze intent, "And from what your friends have said, I think your upbringing has compounded that."
Harry felt his stomach swoop down unpleasantly, "I-"
Charlie considered him, and the dark blue eyes were kind as he slowly leaned back, "I hope that this time will allow you to shine Harry. I want you to remember… you don't have to hold yourself back. There is no punishment for your magical talents. You will not be punished for achieving or shining." He got to his feet, "The first time around you were hamstrung by your past, by your scar and reputation. Everyone thought they knew you, already had expectations on you. And every step of the way you were dogged by this enemy of yours."
He crouched by Harry and squeezed his shoulder, "You start at Hogwarts and no one will blink twice at you. No stares, no expectation. This time when people speak and remember Harry Potter, it will be because of what you've done."
He headed for the stairwell and disappeared, "Sleep well."
Harry stayed where he was, feeling like he'd had a hammer taken to his ribs.
"We have to talk about Riddle,"
Harry's head came up sharply and he winced as his neck cracked at the sudden movement. Nearby, Ron also looked up, surprised to see Hermione and Malfoy standing shoulder to shoulder, arms folded. It was still strange to see the pair of them in cahoots, but it also made a weird kind of sense.
Out of all of them, Hermione was the one that Malfoy had most actively worked to get to know. It was almost like, that now he was aware of his past bigotry he was actively seeking to subvert it. With Hermione he'd found common ground with magical learning, an appreciation for the mysteries of their world.
With everything as muddled and complex as it was, it was probably nice to know how to resolve a past mistake. With Hermione it was straightforward, and so they'd moved forward, bonded by learning.
Unfortunately that also meant they teamed up more often now.
"What about him?" Harry asked cautiously.
Malfoy sighed, like it was obvious, and Hermione jabbed her elbow into his ribs.
"Harry, you told us about that memory. Him meeting Dumbledore that first time, yes?"
"Yes…?" Harry said slowly, glancing at Ron, who looked just as confused as he felt, "It was a week or two before term time."
Malfoy sighed, "Is it an event that we need to change?"
Harry blinked.
Hermione hurried to explain, "It's just, that's where Dumbledore's suspicions began, yes? He wanted to know if he was special, and Dumbledore immediately saw him as a threat."
Malfoy sniffed haughtily, "Typical Gryffindor. Hears the boy can talk to snakes and poof, instantly judgemental."
"I mean he was also stealing from and scaring the other children…" Ron defended, but they all could hear that it was half hearted.
"The point," Hermione shot them all a glare, "Is, how did Riddle perceive it? Harry saw it from Dumbledore's perspective. But we need to look at it through Riddle's eyes."
Ron and Draco immediately started bickering, but Harry stayed quiet, thinking.
He remembered the tiny room, the nasty words of the matron. He remembered what he'd learned at primary school about state run orphanages, which admittedly wasn't much. He remembered being alone, unwanted. Remembered being called Freak, not eating supper.
The Dursley's had feared him, but had known exactly what was happening.
The Orphanage had feared Tom Riddle, but worse, they hadn't understood.
He remembered the Diary horcrux standing before him in the Chamber of Secrets.
"There are strange likenesses between us, after all. Even you must have noticed. Both half-bloods, orphans, raised by Muggles. Probably the only two Parselmouths to come to Hogwarts since the Great Slytherin himself. We even look something alike."
And now there was another similarity.
He imagined having someone other than Hagrid coming to tell him about being a wizard. Imagined someone who looked at him with doubt, with suspicion. He imagined Snape.
His stomach churned.
"We should change it," He heard himself say and the other three looked around, falling quiet.
"Harry?" Ron asked.
Harry looked at Hermione, and saw the same in her eyes. Of course Hermione understood, that was why she'd brought it. Little girl, smarter than everyone else and not afraid to show it, unpopular because she made others feel stupid. With strange gifts that made people whisper and avoid her. He remembered her telling him once about sitting alone at her birthday party, waiting for kids who would never come.
Imagine we had no family, an orphanage that feared and hated us because they didn't understand…" he shook his head slightly, "Imagine if we'd had Snape come tell us."
Hero, the man may have been. Kind? Not so much.
Hermione's mouth twisted slightly, "Dumbledore's fear, or distrust, started it. That first schism, Slytherin vs Gryffindor."
"How are we going to change it?" Ron threw his hands up, "We're not teachers…"
"We can't break the statute of secrecy," Malfoy reminded them, for once on Ron's side.
And the bickering broke out again, Hermione arguing with them both in a way that distinctly reminded Harry of their early years at Hogwarts...
"You're going to have to learn to ask for help."
All of them jumped.
Harry twisted around and gaped at the sight of Charlie and Dorea in the doorway, both of whom had little wicked smiles on their faces. They knew they'd startled them, and they seemed to be amused by that fact.
"Help?" Ron asked, glancing at the others before looking at Charlie again, "How?"
"I went to school with one of the Professors." He grinned at them, "Tia is a force of nature, but a good one. She was a hatstall actually, took the hat about 10 minutes to Sort her and even then it sounded grumpy about it. Slytherin was the final choice, but she was always a smart one. She teaches Defense."
Harry glanced at the others, and saw the same expression that he was feeling on Hermione's face. An unwillingness to relinquish control, to trust an adult with it.
Still, it might be nice to actually have someone to rely on.
"Okay," he nodded, shifting slightly, "But won't she be curious? Why you are asking about him, why is he special?"
Charlie shook his head, "Tia often goes out to the Muggleborn students. It's one of her favourite tasks actually, introducing them to the Magical World. I'll just say I saw the boy in London at the orphanage, and is he on the list? And encourage her to go. Won't be hard, she'll hear 'orphanage' and it will be almost impossible to stop her going."
"That easy?" Harry asked, wondering where the catch was.
Charlie shot Harry a small smile, "You're too used to Gryffindors. I'll send her an owl today."
As you may have guessed, Chapter 4 will be from Tom's perspective.
Reviews
Shiara - I wanted to give them the best chance of sliding into this world, of being able to adjust from the grief and loss and be able to live. Really live. So we'll see how it goes. I love reading your commentary.
amk41196 - I'm afraid my dear it will definitely NOT be Romione. I understand and appreciate your love for the ship, however it's never really clicked for me. Don't worry though, I plan on there being plenty of Ron and Hermione friendship moments along the way.
Kirmizisin - As I stated to amk, Romione is not my ship. Friendship all the way for those two.
Doreene - What a lovely compliment, thank you for your kind words, and I hope you continue to enjoy