A Thread of Time

Part One

It was with a well-timed Avada Kedava and a heap of smouldering Horcrux remains that Harry Potter defeated one of the Darkest wizards of the century for the final time. It occurred on a Tuesday morning on the 19th of December, 1996, and brought the Death Eater invasion of Hogwarts to a halt.

A confused silence descended upon Hogwarts' grounds. The eyes of cautious students and fearful Death Eaters fell upon the young man who abruptly fell to his knees, dropping his wand and clutching his famous scar with a throaty scream.

Only a short pause prolonged the pained cries of surprised Death Eaters as their dreaded Dark Marks finally began to burn away. Voldemort had taken the wards down moments before, which allowed the Aurors to Apparate onto the school grounds, to the relief of the surviving students.

It was briefly noted that Harry Potter staggered up and into the Forbidden Forest, one hand remaining on his scar and his other grasping his wand, but sight of him was lost in the relieved bustling and shouting of the students.

In next to no time at all, the injured were rounded up and the Death Eaters were shifted off to Azkaban once again.

It was hours later that Madam Pomfrey, facing the remaining Hogwarts staff, declared Harry Potter to be comatose.

*

It was snowing. Feathery white flakes floated lightly past the window, and Harry soon lost count of them. In the far distance he observed the invincible North Tower, which remained imposing and upright through the onslaught of white.

It took a second for him to discern the warm substance beginning to drip its way uncaringly down his nose and into his tired eyes, burning them. With exhausted frustration he brought his hand to his face and took it away covered in warm blood from his scar.

Using the window ledge as support, Harry dragged himself up to lean against the wall, a tired sigh forcing its way past his lips. With more than a little effort he forced his numb limbs to move down the icy cold corridor.

The cold chilled one's bones in this empty part of the castle, and the screaming silence made its corridors and abandoned classrooms no less portentous. Most of the students had left for the Christmas term, particularly now that parents were alarmed at the threat of a Death Eater invasion on the unguarded school.

With these gloomy thoughts Harry entered the nearest empty classroom and slumped inside against the door. To him it seemed that many things, such as the red fluid painlessly flowing from his tingling scar, obstinately refused to change. Unless, in his case, for the worse.

He conjured a mirror and stared glumly at his reflection.

His face was pale with the cold and made the deep ominous red of his scar even more noticeable. With the absence of his glasses, his vivid green eyes stared out defiantly, contrasting interestingly with the red.

It had been Hermione's idea to enhance Harry's vision with a spell that had, inevitably, aided him in previous encounters with Death Eaters. He was certainly grateful, as he no longer had to worry about breaking or losing his glasses.

Lank, coal black locks fell into his face. His hair had grown somewhat, reaching his shoulders and taming the unruliness to an extent. It was with a sense of relief on Harry's part that he had finally acquired his own look, no longer the young equivalent of James Potter. He took regular joy in mentally rubbing that fact into Professor Snake's unsightly face. Harry was tired of being compared to his father.

Although slouched against the foot of the door, Harry could see he had grown quite a bit during the summer. He was much taller now; he almost reached Professor Lupin's height. One thing had stayed the same: despite his recent move into Grimmauld Place, he had kept the thin and exhausted look from staying at the Dursleys', rather than growing healthier as he usually did when returning to Hogwarts. Harry could not remember the last time he had felt relaxed and carefree. It was all Voldemort's fault.

Voldemort. Lord bloody Voldemort, the second most powerful wizard alive, and Harry was expected to kill him. Harry, who was only in his sixth year at Hogwarts. Who knew when Voldemort would attack? He may not even attack at all. He might hibernate throughout the winter and ambush them when summer arrived.

Harry's thoughts shifted onto Sirius. He had finally accepted his godfather's death and moved into Grimmauld Place the day of his sixteenth birthday, to the dismay of both Dumbledore and the Weasleys. Harry had made it adamantly clear that he refused to return to the Dursleys ever again.

He hated the Dursleys almost as much as he hated Voldemort, and both Voldemort and the Dursleys hated him. It was one of the few things that he could rely on to never change.

*

Blearily Harry woke up. He pushed himself up from the bitterly cold stone floor, thoughts confused as to why he was lying uncomfortably in the middle of a corridor in the first place. With a frown, he stood and stretched, trying to get some circulation into his stiff limbs and finding that his robes were entirely damp with blood.

He staggered to the nearest bathroom and began to clean himself up, still somewhat bewildered. He was positive that his scar had not bled quite that profusely. At length he banished the robes; he needed to order news ones anyway. That left him in plain jeans and a dark shirt.

Soon he was looking marginally healthier, though still tired and pale. Harry wondered what to do now. He quickly dismissed the idea of hunting down Ron and Hermione, as they had likely discovered an empty cupboard somewhere, and Harry was not particularly eager to know what they were up to.

Instead, he meandered away from the bathroom and descended several staircases. It was disturbingly quiet, and there was not a soul to be seen. Not many students had stayed for the Christmas term, but the castle did not usually remain this silent, especially as it was nearing dinner.

Harry reached the grand staircase that led down to the Entrance Hall. There was still no sound; no professors, nothing. Usually around this time of year Hogwarts would be filled with Christmas cheer.

With a sigh, he sat on one of the bottom steps and stared glumly at Hogwarts' huge wooden doors. He was definitely not going to venture out into the freezing cold. Where was everyone?

"Mice, mice, tasty mice, where are you, my lovelies? I am hungry, very hungry, yes."

Harry blinked and looked around. A snake? A second later he spotted it slithering just below the first step, making for the shadows near the staircase.

Feeling bored and lonely, Harry spoke up. "Hello there."

The snake stopped abruptly, then turned and rose slightly so that it could look at him. Its colouring was dark, and it had a long pattern of black markings on its scales. It was about two to two and a half feet long. Judging by the pattern of its markings, Harry decided it was an adder.

"You can speak?" it demanded, its pointy head cocked to the side.

"Yep." Harry went to kneel down beside it. "What is your name?"

"Name?"

"Err." Harry scratched his head. Snakes weren't familiar with names? He tried, "What shall I call you?"

"I am a Vipera. And I am hungry for tasty mice. Goodbye."

"Wait!" Harry exclaimed before the snake could leave, and then he realized how ridiculous he sounded, pleading with a small snake.

He bit his lip and mentally cursed himself for being such a loser. But he had nothing else to do; his friends had pretty much abandoned him lately, and the castle seemed to be empty. "Can we be friends?"

The snake looked at him and swayed a bit, as though considering the possibility of befriending a human.

"Only if you help me catch mice," it declared eventually, its forked tongue flicking in and out as if licking its lips.

Harry blinked at the sheer Slytherin-ness of the creature. Well, it was not as if he had anything better to do than catch mice. Harry readily agreed and followed the snake down a corridor.

"I still don't know what to call you," he stated on the way. "I can't just call you 'Vipera'."

"My nest calls me the young one," the snake explained as it turned to go in a crack in the wall.

In the end Harry concluded that he would simply have to talk to the snake to get its attention, rather than give it a name. Before it could disappear into the crack, Harry told it to wait.

"Accio mouse," he muttered, and as he had hoped, the nearest mouse zoomed towards him.

He leant down and gave it to the delighted snake.

"So your magic is useful for something after all!" it hissed excitably before it slid into the crack with the blatant intention of devouring its meal.

Harry watched with bored amusement. It was then that he heard someone hurrying down the corridor.

Rising readily, Harry awaited the approach of the footsteps. At seeing the face of the stranger turning the corner, Harry froze

Tom Riddle was dead. While Voldemort remained, Tom Riddle, his young equivalent, had been destroyed via the diary in the Chamber of Secrets a few years before. By Harry, no less. Therefore, Tom Riddle could no longer exist.

So why was he standing a few meters away in old-fashioned Slytherin robes, wand casually out, staring at Harry through dangerously narrowed eyes.

Harry already had his wand at the ready, warily awaiting the inevitable drawn-out speech.

Riddle took a step toward him. "Who are you?" he demanded, his dark eyes narrowing further. "Who were you talking to?"

Harry frowned momentarily, unsure of what was going on. He glanced down to the crack where the snake had taken its meal.

"A friend," he answered carefully, returning his eyes to Riddle's face. Where were all the students? Where were the professors, particularly Dumbledore? Something strange was definitely occurring.

There was a pause as Riddle appeared to consider something, while watching him boldly.

Harry decided to play dumb. This couldn't be the real Riddle, else he'd be trying to kill, threaten or hurt Harry. "I'm Harry Potter. Who are you?"

His rival arched an eyebrow in response. "I am sure that is none of your concern. I have never seen you in the castle before. What House are you in?"

Harry stared. This could not be happening. The only possibility of his ever meeting an ignorant sixteen-year-old Tom Riddle would be...

Time travel.

But that notion was impossible. Harry hadn't used a Time-Turner in years. He even remembered destroying them all at the Ministry last year when fighting the Death Eaters with Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville and Luna. Even if there were any Time-Turners left, he certainly would not have chosen Tom Riddle's era as a place to visit. And that still didn't explain the castle's emptiness.

He realized with a jolt that Riddle was waiting for an answer. He cleared his throat and paused. "I think there's been a...misunderstanding," he said. That's one way of putting it, he thought.

"Oh?" Even at sixteen, the Dark Lord had a demanding air. Harry shifted uncomfortably, trying to ignore the feeling that Tom Riddle remained as handsomely dark as he had been in the Chamber of Secrets.

Harry then remembered Dumbledore explaining that many of the professors, including Headmaster Armando Dippet, had favoured Tom as a student; he was intelligent, charming and talented. He was also slightly insane, terrifying and constantly bent on revenge. At least, that was Harry's opinion.

Harry chose to ignore the questioning tone. The situation was awkward and Riddle appeared content to simply stare at him in an appraising manner. "Have you seen Professor Dumbledore recently? I'd like to speak with him."

Tom frowned slightly before his expression quickly resumed neutral indifference. "I believe he is running an errand for the Headmaster out of school," he replied smoothly.

Harry gnawed at his lip, finally feeling the first strands of fear. This could not possibly be good. "Is the Headmaster here, then?"

"Of course. He is most likely in his office."

Harry blinked. "Thanks," he said hesitantly, before making to walk around Riddle.

"He will be on his way to the Great Hall for dinner soon. Why don't you let me accompany you to his office after we have eaten?"

Harry came to a halt next to Tom and watched him cautiously. They were close. Tom was an inch or two taller than him, and other than Tom's hazel eyes and lack of a scar, Harry knew they looked very similar.

"All right," he agreed carefully. There were not really any other options but to go along with it. He could hardly go on a hunt for Dumbledore. Life outside the castle could be completely different from Harry's time. For once, Harry acknowledged that leaving the castle would be too dangerous.

He was about to move forward again when he felt Tom's hand on his arm. Harry met his vivid gaze.

"Aren't you going to collect your... friend?" the Slytherin asked, slowly pocketing his wand.

Harry merely raised an eyebrow before moving to kneel beside the crack. "Finished yet?"

"Quite." The snake's head poked out from the crack. Its gaze went from Harry to Tom, and it seemed to lick its lips before it returned to Harry.

"Carry me, since you are my friend."

Harry rolled his eyes but held his arm out for the snake nevertheless. It accepted and climbed up to settle around his shoulders. Harry made sure it was comfortable before turning to Tom.

Tom stood very still, his expression unreadable. His gaze settled on Harry's snake.

"Impressive," he murmured before gesturing the way to the Great Hall.

"The castle is full of tasty mice," the snake mused, head swaying on Harry's shoulder.

"And friends?" Riddle asked as they began to move, making Harry feel extremely uncomfortable for a reason he couldn't place. Maybe it was just disturbing that he and Voldemort shared a private language of their own, privy only to snakes.

"And friends," the snake agreed, flicking its tongue in Harry's ear.

Harry jumped slightly before scowling at it. "Don't do that."

The snake hissed delightedly as though laughing, and Harry picked up on the sudden amusement that shone briefly in Tom's eyes.

"What did you say your name was?" Tom asked again.

"Harry," he answered, feeling a bit less uneasy. "Harry Potter."

"I'm Tom Riddle. It's... nice to meet you, Harry. Perhaps we could be friends?"

Harry almost faltered in his step. Tom Riddle did not have friends. Harry knew this to be a fact. Riddle had simply used his 'friends' when it suited him. And Tom had just offered his friendship...? But Harry could play at this game; hell, he could use it to his own advantage. Any information he found out now might be useful when he returned to his own time.

"Sure, Tom."

The other boy looked vaguely pleased.

It was with a stream of worried thoughts that Harry walked side-by-side with Tom Riddle in the direction of the Great Hall.

*

"What House are you in?"

"Er," Harry replied, leaving a too-long pause in his mental scurry for an answer.

Tom raised an eyebrow. "You haven't been Sorted? I suppose you are a transfer student?"

Harry immediately latched onto the excuse. "Yeah, I suppose I am."

They came to a halt at the entrance to the Hall, which was filled to the brim with chattering students.

Harry frowned. "Where shall I sit?"

Tom took a light hold of Harry's elbow and manoeuvred him towards the Slytherin table.

"You can sit with me. You will most likely be in Slytherin anyway, since you have the gift of Parseltongue."

Right, gift, Harry thought as he sat beside Tom. Immediately he had the attention of the surrounding Slytherins, some of whom had features he recognized.

"Who is this?" a good looking boy with light brown hair and eyes directed his eyes to Harry as he addressed Tom.

"This is Harry, a transfer student. He will be Sorted soon," Tom replied as he filled his plate with food, not even sparing the boy a glance.

The boy raised an indifferent brow before turning fully to Harry. He held out a hand. "Stefan Avery. I am- is that a snake?"

Harry was trying to absorb the fact that this was an Avery when he realized what Stefan meant. The snake had wound itself round Harry's neck and was peering at the roast chicken on Tom's plate with a suggestive hiss.

Harry gave it an annoyed look. "Stop that," he told it, ignoring the quiet gasps of the others. He carefully put the snake in his lap and loaded his plate with meat for it. When it gave a satisfied hiss in reply, he turned back to the watchful eyes of the Slytherins.

"A greedy snake," Tom mused as he watched Harry interestedly.

There was a pause.

"You're a parselmouth!" a young girl exclaimed. She looked like a third or fourth year student.

Harry began to eat, already tired of the stares.

"Well observed," the boy on Harry's other side said dryly. "I'm Dorian, by the way," He slid Harry a glance. "You'll have to excuse the stupidity of the lower years. Occasionally it gets slightly out of hand."

The young girl blushed and turned away from them. Harry rolled his eyes and decided to make observations. The dark haired girl sitting opposite him was eating while reading the book in her lap. She had a Head Girl badge, so she must have been a seventh year.

"I'm Cedrella Black," she said suddenly without looking up. She must have felt Harry staring.

"A Black who fails to live up to her name," someone else piped in.

Cedrella's head snapped up and her grey eyes narrowed. She had the same eyes as Sirius, Harry realized. He felt a pang of pain and turned to look somewhere else. He met Tom's gaze. The other boy was watching him with something akin to vague fascination.

"If I were you I would keep my objections to myself, Bulstrode," Cedrella said quietly, her eyes narrowing further. Harry followed her gaze and found himself looking into the face of a very pretty dark skinned girl with long black locks and deep black eyes.

Bulstrode smirked at him. "What do you think, Harry? Should the very respectable name of Black be tainted by one of its owners dating the inferior kind?"

Harry decided to play the game, ignoring the way the other student' eyes followed the snake as it slid up his chest and around his shoulders.

He stared at her. "Define 'inferior kind'."

"I hardly need to define anything. It's clear that the only inferior things around here are those disgusting half-breeds. Not to mention the wizards of respectful families who have the effrontery to mix with such foul-"

"Oh, for heaven's sake, do shut up," Dorian interrupted loudly, drawing a snort from Cedrella. "If I have to hear one more lecture on the foulness of foul blood, someone is going to die quite painfully." He turned to Harry, who found himself smiling amusedly. "Pass the potatoes, if you would."

Harry passed them. He silently agreed with the boy that listening to talk of 'foul blood' all day was not exactly the most interesting thing in the world. He wondered what Tom thought of the half-breed bit. He was a half-blooded wizard after all. Another thing they had in common.

A glance at the boy told him nothing. Tom appeared to be in deep thought as he ate, ignoring the others around him.

"So, Harry," the Bulstrode girl said, her eyes boring into the side of Harry's skull. He turned to her, a bored expression mastering his features.

"What school did you attend before you came to this... establishment?"

Harry blinked, racking his brain for an answer. "I was home-schooled," he said finally, before going back to his meal.

"Really?" Dorian perked up. "What exactly does that involve? Did you learn the same subjects?"

"I don't know; what exactly are the subjects?"

"Potions, Transfiguration, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Astronomy, you name it."

Bulstrode snorted. "Pointless subjects. We ought to look more into the arts of the dark, wherein-"

"Anyway," Dorian said loudly, causing the others to snicker and Bulstrode to glare at him.

Harry gave him an amused look. He immediately liked this Dorian, who seemed more easy-going than the rest. He wondered what his surname was. Harry asked.

"Rosier. Dorian Rosier. Pass the chicken, if you would be so kind."

Bemused, Harry did as asked. He only knew of one other Rosier, and that had been a Death Eater called Evan. Did that mean that Evan was Dorian's son, or something?

He started when he realized Dorian was trying to get his attention. "Sorry, what?"

The boy gave him an amused smile, and Harry caught his breath. God, the guy was gorgeous when he smiled. He had dark, shoulder length hair and blue, dreamy eyes. Harry mentally scolded himself for sounding so sappy.

"I said, what's your surname?"

"Oh right, Potter."

Harry received several surprised looks.

"How are you related to Charlus Potter?" Bulstrode asked curiously.

Charlus Potter? Harry had no idea who he was, since no one had explained James' history to him. "He's my cousin," Harry tried. "You... wouldn't have heard of me before."

That earned him even more curious looks than before. Harry inwardly cursed himself. Oh well, it would have to come out eventually. He sighed. "I'm a half-blood."

Bulstrode spat out the drink she had in her mouth in shock. Dorian scowled at her in disgust. Cedrella had looked up to stare at Harry strangely, and Tom was looking at him with narrowed eyes.

Harry scowled before sighing again, although he was suddenly fearful. "I suppose I'm not worthy now?" he asked sarcastically.

Dorian sniggered next to him. "Of course not. We can't have the foul blood of the inferior kind mixing with our greatness, after all."

Harry gave him a relieved smile. Yes, Dorian was very nice...

Harry turned to face Tom. "What about you? Are we still... friends?"

There was a silence as everyone held their breath. It was then Harry realized how much respect the students had for Tom. Anything he said was considered important to them. It was now that determined whether Harry was going to suffer here if not. If Tom refused his friendship, then...

"Of course. It is hardly your fault if your mother was a... muggle-born," Tom said, his hand on Harry's thigh.

"That doesn't explain why we have not heard of you before," Cedrella spoke up.

Harry turned to her. "Well, who would want a half-breed in a line of purebloods? Better to hide it away so that no one could see the disgrace of the family," he finished bitterly, thinking of his time with the Dursleys. In their family, he was the disgrace. Luckily, the story he had completely made up seemed convincing enough.

Dorian patted his thigh. "There, there," he said with amusement.

Harry rolled his eyes at him.

"Well I personally don't blame them," Bulstrode retorted. "If there was a half-breed in my family, they would certainly be locked away, if not disowned completely." She shot a scornful look at Cedrella.

"Then I'm very glad I'm not in your family," Harry said blankly, staring at her. She looked away uncomfortably.

"So why are you here now, then?" Cedrella asked, looking honestly curious. The book in her lap lay forgotten.

Harry gave a slight shrug. "I don't know. They didn't bother explaining anything to me. I suppose they finally came to accept that there isn't a lot they can do about it since it will come out eventually."

Cedrella nodded slowly in understanding. She turned to Tom.

"You're being exceptionally quiet, today, Tom," she said.

Tom's hazel eyes settled on her. "My mind is occupied with other things," he said absently.

"Clearly."

"I'm bored," the snake said, its tongue flicking in Harry's ear.

Harry scowled at it. "Go and find some mice, then."

"I don't need anymore mice. Entertain me."

"Maybe later."

"Why?"

"Because."

"Because what?"

"Because I said so."

"But I am bored and you are my friend."

"So?"

"So you have to make me happy."

Harry frowned. "You have a twisted idea of what 'friend' means."

"You humans make no sense."

Tom chuckled in amusement. Harry glanced at him.

"Are you finished, Harry?"

"Yeah." He stood, the snake still on his shoulders, and followed Tom out of the Hall. They soon lost the crowd of other students as they made their way to Dumbledore's office. Dippet's office, Harry corrected himself. He could not afford to make mistakes.

Tom stopped suddenly, and pulled Harry into an empty classroom, the door shutting behind them.

Harry blinked as the taller boy turned to face him. "What is it?" he asked, curious, while his hand was itching to grab his wand and hex the Slytherin.

"I would simply like a few answers," Tom said, moving so stand a mere foot away from Harry, his wand flicking at the door. Locking it.

Harry suddenly felt the disturbing urge to move closer to the boy. He thought better of it. "Such as?" he managed.

"I was simply wondering, Harry, why the similarities between us both are so astounding."

Harry gulped silently, but Tom went on.

"I will list them if you wish. We are both Parselmouths. We are both 'halfbloods' as they call it, although I would be very pleased if you did not repeat that elsewhere. We look similar. And I can tell you are lying, Harry."

Harry's eyes widened. Had he been caught so easily? What if the others had noticed, and were just playing along? Oh god, what if this Charlus Potter turned out to be an old senile man, and so couldn't possibly be Harry's 'cousin'? "...About what?"

Tom moved closer, his eyes narrowed. "You are a convincing liar, but I can see through it. I may not know the truth of your distorted background but I can clearly see that you have no idea as to who Charlus Potter is."

Harry frowned. Then sighed in defeat. "Alright, fine. You've got me. You win."

Tom appeared slightly taken aback. "I'm sorry?"

"Congratulations, you've caught me out. Now, what?"

Tom frowned slightly, before smirking. "Like I said, I would appreciate some answers. What is your real name?"

Harry shook his head. "I wasn't lying about my name. It really is Harry Potter."

"How did you become a parselmouth?"

Harry pursed his lips and looked away.

"Let's try this a different way, shall we?"

He suddenly felt the smooth wood of Tom's wand against his throat. Crap, he thought. How did he manage to get himself into these situations?

"I can't tell you," he said, meeting Tom's intense gaze. They were now centimetres apart.

"I'm quite sure you can."

"No really, I can't. It will mess up the future," Oh god, why was he saying this? Well, as long as he didn't give anything important away... But then, this was Tom Riddle. He might force the information out of Harry, but in subtler ways. He might attempt to use Legilimency. Luckily Harry was skilled by now in Occlumency.

Tom appeared interested. "Oh? Do explain."

"I'm... okay, I don't know how I got here, but one minute I'm in the year 1996 and the next I'm sitting in the Astronomy Tower in this time."

Tom's expression didn't change. In fact, he moved closer still, appearing intrigued.

"Go on," he said.

Harry backed away slightly, frowning. "Come on, you must know that time travel is dangerous. I can't go around spilling the secrets of the future to everyone. And while I'm here, I have to improvise."

Tom sighed and removed his wand. "Fine, but at least answer me this: are we related?"

Harry stared at him incredulously. "Related?"

"Yes. It would explain the similarities quite clearly if, say, you were my son."

Harry stared. Then he began to laugh, somewhat hysterically. Harry Potter, Lord Voldemort's son? What a horrible thought, Harry mused silently. He noted that Tom looked slightly perplexed at Harry's outburst.

"Sorry," Harry muttered, composing himself. "No, I can quite honestly say that we are not related, and that I am most certainly not your son."

Tom's eyes narrowed. He looked slightly offended. "And what exactly would be wrong with being related to me?"

Harry made an exasperated sound. "Look, it's not that, it's just that you murdered my-" Oh, crap. Harry snapped his mouth shut and turned to open the door before he spouted anything else.

Suddenly he was spun around again.

T om looked somewhat annoyed, he noted. "I killed your what? Your family? Your brother, sister? Your parents?"

Harry tensed at that - and Tom felt it.

"So," Tom stated as he released Harry. "In the future, I killed your parents," Harry noticed with anger that the other boy seemed completely unconcerned about this. "And you miraculously have the ability to speak with snakes. And, somehow, you managed to transport yourself back in time. In particular, to my time. Is that not a coincidence?"

Harry supposed it was. He shrugged and tried to turn again when he was abruptly pushed up against the door.

How in Merlin's beard did he get himself into this mess?