A Thread of Time

Part Two

Harry did not know what to think as he sullenly made his way to Dippet's office with Tom marching behind him. What had Riddle expected? Harry could hardly explain to him that he had become the second most powerful wizard in Britain and that his hobbies included hunting down Muggle-borns and generally attempting to kill Harry.

And when Tom had gotten bored with questioning Harry and decided to use Legilimency on him, he had found himself stumbling back with the force of Harry's Occlumency. But that had hardly been Harry's fault. It was generally acknowledged that prying into someone else's mind is fairly unacceptable.

Then Tom had narrowed his eyes dangerously and ordered Harry to see Dippet.

By the time they reached the frustrating gargoyle, Harry had a fairly annoying headache. Why was everything so irritating all of a sudden?

Tom gave the password and Harry followed him up the worn spiral staircase. A second later they were admitted into the Headmaster's office.

"Ah, Tom. It is good to see you. And who, might I ask, is this?"

Headmaster Armando Dippet sat behind the same desk that Dumbledore had occupied in Harry's time. Other than that, the office was different. Instead of pensieves, trinkets and other strange magical objects to litter the shelves, the walls were completely lined with well-worn books.

The Headmaster himself was an ordinary, thin, weary-looking man with a smile that hardly reached his eyes. His brown hair was short and greying and the eyes that flickered to Harry were mildly curious.

"Good evening, Headmaster," Tom answered smoothly. "This is Harry Potter. I'll let him explain why he is here."

Harry frowned at Tom as he moved to stand aside. "What year is it?" he asked suddenly. Why had he not bothered to ask before?

Dippet raised an eyebrow. "I believe it is October 5th, 1944."

"Oh. Well, in my time, it's December 20th, 1996."

"Excuse me?"

"There... must have been an accident. I was... I don't know what I was doing before, but I woke up in the Astronomy Tower in this time."

"Are you trying to inform me that you have had a time-travel accident?"

"Well.... I guess so."

"And how exactly is that possible? I have heard of only one magical object that can transport a wizard through time, and even now it still does not work as expected."

Harry frowned. "You mean a time-turner?"

"I believe that is what it is called, yes."

"Oh. Well, I don't remember using one of those. At least, not in the last couple of years."

Dippet leaned forward slightly, a frown on his face. "Please elaborate."

"I used one once to help my Godfather... he was a fugitive and they were about to give him the Dementor's Kiss. But that's irrelevant. Look, I don't know what happened. I can't remember how I got here, or what I was doing before I got here. I can't tell you what's going on, so don't ask. It could completely mess up the future. And though you may not want to believe me, I can't leave Hogwarts. I have no idea what life outside is like right now. And this place is all I have left anyway."

Harry sighed. He was so tired. He sat down wearily in one of the chairs.

"Alright... Mr. Potter."

Harry looked up.

"I will allow you to remain in the castle. However, we have nothing to prove that you are who you say you are, and you must understand that it is dangerous to admit a stranger into the castle without any background information."

Harry's shoulders slumped. What was he going to do?

"Headmaster," Tom spoke up. "Perhaps he could be accepted as a transfer student at Hogwarts until he finds an adequate way to return to his time. It is the story he fed many of the other students, after all. It should be around the school soon."

The Headmaster nodded slowly. "Yes, that seems to be a good idea. However, I must consult the Deputy Headmaster on this." He stood and moved around his desk, taking a handful of what looked like floo powder and throwing it into the fire. "Albus Dumbledore."

Harry felt relief flood him. Dumbledore would know what to do, even if he did not know Harry in this time. Dumbledore was safe. Harry glanced at Tom, to find the other boy watching him with a blank expression. Unnerved by the stare, Harry looked away.

"You called, Armando?" Dumbledore's face appeared in the fire. Harry noticed that the familiar face looked much younger; certainly less tired. The twinkle in the wizard's eyes was still there.

"I did. We have an unusual situation." Professor Dippet gestured towards Harry, who found himself meeting Dumbledore's gaze. He held his breath, wondering what to expect.

"A new student?" Dumbledore asked.

"In a way. There seems to have been an accident. Mr. Potter here claims to be from the year 1996. How, or why he arrived in our time, he does not know."

Harry stifled a yawn. He was going to have to sleep soon, or he might end up slumped on the floor of the Headmaster's office.

"Hold on, Armando. I will come through." Dumbledore's head vanished and a second later, the wizard stepped carefully into the room. He turned to Harry. "May I give you a spell check?"

Harry raised an eyebrow but nodded. He felt a tingling sensation as Dumbledore flicked his wand.

"Nothing," the old man said finally. Harry scowled and shoved his hands in his pockets. This was getting tiresome.

"Well, Albus, what do you think? Shall we accept Mr. Potter as a transfer student or send him on his way?"

Dumbledore gave a small smile. "I believe he is harmless. But," he turned to Harry. "It would be helpful if you would answer a few questions to reassure the Headmaster that you are not a danger to the school."

"Go ahead. But if I think it will interfere with the future, then I'm not answering."

Dumbledore nodded in understanding. "What is your full name?"

"Harry James Potter."

"When were you born?"

"The 31st July, 1980. I'm sixteen."

"Would you mind explaining the curse-scar?"

Harry frowned. Nothing that would interfere with the future... "Yes."

"Hmm. What is your connection with the Potters?"

"I'm... not sure. James Potter is the name of my father, but he died when I was young. I don't know about his family history. I don't know who Charlus Potter is." He shot Tom a sly look.

"And your mother?"

"Lily Evans. A Muggle-born."

Dumbledore did not so much as blink at that. "I am sure blood does not need to come into this," he said. "Is your mother alive in your time?"

"No, she also died when I was young." Harry purposely avoided looking at Tom.

"How did they die?"

Harry looked away.

"Do you have any other living relatives in your time?"

"Only my... Muggle family. I hate them. Oh, and I had my godfather. But he died last year. In my time, I mean."

Harry sighed, feeling tired. Did they have to ask this?

"Where are you currently living, in your time?"

Harry scowled. "Hogwarts, mostly."

"And during the summer?"

"The Durs- Oh. My Godfather left me a house."

"What were you going to say?"

"The Durselys. They're my Muggle family. I moved out when I turned of age."

"What is your Godfather's name?"

Harry wondered if he should be telling them this. "Sirius Black."

Dippet interrupted. "No offence meant, but a Black would not leave his property to a half-blood."

Harry's eyes narrowed. "I assure you, Sirius Black didn't care about ridiculous blood lines. Family is family. I think that's enough. I've told you far too much."

Dumbledore nodded slowly, before conjuring the Sorting Hat. He handed it to Harry. "I assume you know what to do?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "It's hardly advanced Transfiguration." He put the Hat on his head for the third time.

Ooo, an interesting one. I can see we have met before, though at a very different time. And a Potter. Very interesting.

Just get on with it, Harry thought.

Impatient, I see. And you have quite a temper. But I also see bravery. And cunning! Lots of cunning... but where to put you?

Harry's patience was beginning to wear thin. He just wanted to Sleep, damnit. The nightmares had been coming back lately, worse than ever. And Dreamless Sleep no longer worked...

Well, well. You certainly have the potential to be great. And nightmares, you say? Very unpleasant.

Harry mentally snorted. What would a hat know of nightmares?

Ah, you underestimate me. Now, where was I..? Oh, yes. Greatness is definitely in store for you, my dear lad.

But Harry did not want greatness. Harry just wanted to be normal.

Yes, I can see that. However, I believe you will find that your potential will get in the way. I can see why I once put you in Gryffindor, but that will not do this time. "SLYTHERIN!"

"Stupid Hat," Harry muttered as he removed the thing from his head. Dumbledore chuckled.

Oh, crap, Harry thought. I've just been Sorted into Slytherin! What the Hell!

"It's settled then," Dippet said, looking slightly pleased. Harry realized suddenly that Dippet had been a Slytherin. Bugger, he thought.

"Although," the man continued. "I have never seen someone wear the Hat for quite that long. Just what were you discussing?"

"Nightmares, greatness, potential that sort of thing." Harry yawned, ignoring how rude he was being. It was their own fault for taking so long.

"Oh?" Dippet looked interested.

"What are we to do with the matter of school books and robes?" Dumbledore interrupted smoothly. "Were you in Slytherin in your time?" he added, addressing Harry.

"Nope, Gryffindor."

Dippet looked flabbergasted. "What! How is that possible? You can't have the traits of both Slytherin and Gryffindor."

Harry shrugged. Dumbledore's eyes gleamed. Tom didn't make a sound.

"Back to the books-" Dumbledore said eventually.

"Yes, yes, I will have them ordered." Dippet went to sit at his desk. "I think it best if you have a copy of Tom's timetable. That way I will be kept informed, and Tom will be able to help if there is any trouble."

Harry sighed. "What about school robes? And other clothes?"

Dippet scratched his chin, looking thoughtful. "Perhaps you will have to take a trip into Diagon Alley."

"Headmaster, is that wise?" Dumbledore interrupted. "If what Mr. Potter says is true, then it will be very easy for something misfortunate to occur."

Dippet waved away his objection. "No, no, I think it will be fine. He can go with Tom and... Professor Priggs. Yes, it will be fine. In fact, you can go this weekend. That way you can get your books as well, rather than having to order them."

"Alright," Harry slowly agreed. He would have to be careful, though. "What day is it?"

"Thursday. Have tomorrow off. It looks like you need a lie-in."

Harry scowled.

"Perhaps we should let Mr. Potter sleep. I am sure Tom will escort you to your dorm," Dumbledore said.

"Of course, Professor," Tom said. Harry followed him to the door.

"One more thing, Mr. Potter," Professor Dippet said.

Harry turned to look at him.

"You must keep in mind that there will be many things that have not yet been discovered. Do not allow that knowledge to interfere with your lessons."

Harry nodded slowly. "I understand."

Finally, they left.

*

"Merlin," Harry murmured as he wandered through the corridors with Tom at his side.

The other boy soon stopped. Harry slowed and turned to look at him. Tom's expression was closed as he looked searchingly at Harry. Harry had no idea what the other boy was thinking.

"What?" he asked carefully.

Tom took a step forward. Then another.

"Um..." Harry managed as the boy ended up extraordinarily close. Fingers closed around his chin and pulled his head up so that he was forced to stare into Tom's eyes. Harry didn't object, though. He could stare into those eyes all day...

And then Tom pressed his lips to Harry's. Harry went stock still. What...? What on earth? He made to pull away when the taller boy's free arm wrapped around his waist, pulling them against each other. And then deepened the kiss by slipping his tongue into Harry's mouth.

Harry decided that that was enough. He pulled away. "Stop. What are you doing?"

Tom quirked an eyebrow at him, a suddenly amused smirk pulling at his lips. His arm was still around Harry's waist. "I should think that would be obvious."

It was not that Harry had a problem with kissing a guy. Hell, he had realized he preferred guys to girls soon after the Cho Incident. No, it was the fact that this was Tom Riddle, who had killed his parents and repeatedly tried to kill Harry. This whole thing was completely wrong. He pulled Tom's arm from his waist and took a step back.

"No," he said firmly.

Tom leant his shoulder against the wall with an amused look. "Why ever not? Is it because I killed your parents?"

Harry opened his mouth and closed it again. Yes, that was the reason. But it was not as if he was going to admit it.

"Harry, people can be forgiven, you know." Tom moved towards him again. "Besides, I am not the person who murdered them."

Harry frowned. Yes, you are, he thought.

Tom shook his head, seeing what Harry was thinking. "No. The person I am now and the person I become are different."

"Well you've already killed your family," Harry bit out, then gasped as a hand grabbed and tightened around his throat. Tom's face appeared inches away, his eyes narrowed.

"How do you know that?" He snapped angrily, eyes narrowed almost to slits.

"I... told you... I'm from... the future," Harry gasped out, struggling to breath. "Only... Dumbledore... and I... know." Tom's hand tightened, and Harry's eyes widened. "I'm sorry," he gasped out. "I don't.... blame you... though."

Tom released him and Harry staggered back, massaging his sore neck. He really ought to learn how to take control of absurd situations.

Tom seemed to be breathing hard, his eyes still narrowed. "You will not speak a word of this to anyone."

Harry frowned at him. "Of course I won't, it would interfere with the future. And there are a hell of a lot of other sickening things that I could tell everyone about you, but I won't do that either. It's not just your life I'm saving, here."

Tom nodded slowly. "Although, I could just Obliviate you..."

Harry shook his head. "Those don't work on me." Not after the hours upon hours of training he'd endured to block it. "Nor does the Imperius curse, before you try.

"And the Cruciatus curse?" asked Tom, his features schooled into a disinterested look that didn't fool Harry for a minute.

Harry's eyes widened. "Um..."

Tom smirked but did not make any threatening move, apparently believing that the mere threat of Cruciatus would be enough to keep Harry quiet.

He then frowned slightly. "How are you so powerful?"

Harry stifled another yawn. "Can't tell you. Look, I'm sorry, alright? I didn't mean to bring that up. And I won't be saying anything else about you. Now can we just go? I need to sleep at some point."

Tom nodded slowly and Harry followed him down to the dungeons, muttering, "And the Hat said I have a bad temper."

Tom gave him a sly smile. "I only lose my temper when others pry into my life, dear Harry."

"Really? I'll keep that in mind."

They approached a stone wall, which Harry stared at blankly. "This isn't the entrance to the Slytherin common room from my time," he said.

"How would you know where the entrance to the Slytherin common room is?" Tom demanded.

"I've been inside it, but only once."

"Oh really? Well, this isn't the regular entrance," Tom explained. "It's my entrance."

Harry rolled his eyes. "How do we get in, then?"

"You'll undoubtedly be able to figure it out yourself, with one of those talents of yours."

Harry stared at him. What was he on about? He then looked at the stone wall. Oh, right. There was a small symbol of a snake carved into it. It would be impossible to find if one didn't know where to look. Figures.

"Open," he hissed. The door obeyed, and Harry followed Tom down a dark corridor and through another similar wall.

"Here we are," Tom said as they entered a room very similar to the Gryffindor Common. It looked very much the same as it did when Harry had visited it during his second year under the guise of Polyjuice potion. Very green. It was also colder here, and darker. Candles hung everywhere on the walls and the fireplace was huge. Other than that...

"The Gryffindor Common Room is bigger," Harry mused quietly.

"That's to be expected. They are a wild group of loud, squabbling idiots as far as I can tell. They need more space."

Harry rolled his eyes. "What dorm am I staying in?"

"Dorian's, I assume. His dormitory has a spare four-poster since one of the students left a couple of years ago."

"They left?" Harry asked as they moved towards the empty chairs by the fire.

"I believe they were transferred to Durmstrang. The parents disliked the way Hogwarts is run."

"Right," Harry said, as a wave of exhaustion hit him. He stopped and swayed slightly. Tom turned.

"You need to sleep. I'll take you to your dorm."

Harry nodded absently. He followed Tom down through a door that opened to a tunnel lit by candles, which went even deeper underground.

"Tom," he said hesitantly, when they stopped. The boy turned to him.

"Yes?"

"Is it safe to ask something... personal here? You said you don't like people prying in your life, but I'd like to know."

"Yes, it is safe here. What is it?"

Harry narrowed his eyes slightly. "Don't strangle me this time, please."

Tom gave him a sly smile, but did not answer.

Harry took a breath. "Alright, have you opened the Chamber of Secrets yet?"

Tom's eyes widened before narrowing venomously and his fists clenched. Harry took a step back. The taller boy looked absolutely terrifying. He then seemed to calm down.

"Yes, I have. A Muggle-born girl died, and that fool Hagrid was expelled. Are you satisfied?"

Harry folded his arms, frowning. "What's happening with the basilisk?"

"How do you know so much?" Tom demanded.

Harry shrugged, deciding to dismiss it for now. "Thanks for not trying to choke me to death, anyway." He glanced behind Tom to see three doors. "Which one?"

"The one on the right," Tom answered without turning. He took hold of Harry's chin again, making the other boy meet his burning gaze. "Be careful, Harry. Only snakes live down here."

Harry blinked, and forced himself to focus as lips met his once again in a brief kiss. Tom leant back with a small smirk, releasing him. "Goodnight, Harry."

A second later, he turned and went through the middle door without a backward glance.

*

Dressed in a clean set of spare Slytherin robes and having rid himself of the weight of exhaustion, Harry settled lightly at one of the tables in the library with a book on Slytherin genealogy and the snake on his shoulder. He had found him that morning snoozing by the fire in the Slytherin common room.

"Aha," Harry hissed triumphantly, "here's a good one: 'Anton Ferrow, a branch member of the Slytherin family, and one of the few family members to inherit the rare gift of Parseltongue (ability to converse with snakes). His ideals were very similar to those of Salazar Slytherin, wherein bloodlines were...' blah, blah. You can be Anton."

"Anton?" the snake hissed, its tongue flicking in Harry's ear, much to his discomfort. Absently he took a firm hold of Anton and placed him in his lap.

"Yes. Now I don't have to refer to you as 'snake' any longer."

He received a pleased hiss.

Harry sighed and shut the book. What was he to do now? It was approximately one in the afternoon and students were already in lessons. Carefully he replaced Anton on his shoulders and left the library to walk aimlessly through the corridors. His thoughts meandered towards his new dorm mates.

On entering the dormitory the night before, Harry had encountered Dorian sprawled on one of the four-posters, his lazy eyes watching the two sixth year boys on the other side of the room with a bored expression. Enthusiastically and with much sarcasm, he introduced them to Harry. One was Carlos Flint, a tall blond boy with sharp blue eyes who appeared to have a new girlfriend every other day. The other was a quiet, plain looking boy with light brown hair and eyes. His name was Nicholas Cole, and according to Dorian, he rarely said a word to anyone.

Bemused at the thick unwelcome he had received from the two, Harry had quickly undressed and crawled into his own four-poster.

Thinking back on it, he supposed it was unsurprising they were so wary of him. They were Slytherins, after all. Calculating, manipulative, cunning. Traits that Harry was sure he hardly had, but the Hat had discovered nevertheless.

Eventually Harry came to a halt and found himself standing in a familiar corridor. Making sure that no one was in sight, he quickly slid through the gap in the doorway to find himself in the girls' toilet.

"Myrtle?" he tried tentatively, edging around the large puddles on the floor.

A long wail answered him. She was in the last cubicle, a silvery sobbing mass on the toilet seat. She rubbed her eyes. "Who are you? What are you doing in here?"

"I'm new here. An exchange student. I heard someone crying. Are you all right?"

She sniffed. "Of course I'm not all right. What do you want?"

"Well, I'd like to know some things, but I've got the day off and anyone I could ask is in lessons."

Myrtle began to look slightly interested, and the ghostly tears faded. "Like what? I'm sure I can answer your questions. I know all the gossip and all the secret passages in Hogwarts."

"Well," - Harry took a deep breath - "I want to know if some people attend this school. For example, is there anyone under the name of Black here?"

She looked surprised. "Of course there is. There's Alphard Black, Cedrella Black, Nathaniel Black, Corelia Black-"

"Whoa, okay, stop, stop." Harry was completely taken aback. Why were there so many? "Let's go through them one at a time, shall we? Who is Alphard Black?"

She sat up straight as though feeling important all of a sudden. "Alphard Black is the Slytherin Head Boy. His elder sister, Walburga Black, has already left Hogwarts to run off with her second cousin, Orion Black."

Walburga Black. Harry remembered her well. The screeching portrait in the front hall of Grimmauld Place. Sirius' mother. That must mean that Alphard could be the uncle who had given him a large sum of money when he ran away from home at sixteen. Sirius' name had been burned off the tapestry for befriending 'Mudbloods' (therefore disgracing the Black name), and Alphard's name had been burned off for helping him.

Well, you learn something new everyday, Harry mused silently. He realised that he had zoned out and Myrtle was watching him patiently. "Sorry, go on. I've met Cedrella Black, but I don't know much about her."

"She is the Slytherin Head girl. She's dating Septimus Weasley, a Gryffindor."

A Black dating a Weasley? Harry almost laughed at the absurdity of it. Now he understood what Bulstrode had been on about the day before. "Does her family disapprove then?"

"Oh yes. As far as I can tell, she is on the verge of being disowned."

"Really?" Harry said incredulously. "Just for dating someone they don't like?"

"It's all about bloodlines," Myrtle said as if it were obvious.

"But the Weasleys are an old pure-blooded family."

"Yes, but they are Muggleborn lovers. Many of them have been marrying into Muggleborn families in the last few years."

"All right. Who was the next one?"

"There's Nathaniel Black. He's a second year Slytherin. So is Analissa Black, his cousin. I don't know much about them. Corelia Black is a fifth year Slytherin." At this Myrtle sniffed distastefully. "She's been completely brainwashed into thinking Muggleborns are no better than slaves. The other two aren't much better, as far as I can tell."

"Okay." Harry slowly tried to absorb the information. "All right. Any more Blacks?"

"Not that I know of."

"Okay. Okay."

Myrtle gave a slight giggle, which made Harry feel somewhat disturbed. "Right," he said. "Who is Charlus Potter?"

"He's a seventh year Gryffindor. Very handsome." She gazed off dreamily. "He looks a lot like you."

Harry dismissed it. "I'm also a Potter. My name is Harry. Do you know his parents' names?"

Blinking away her astonishment at his being a Potter, she said, "No, but I know he has a nephew called Henry Potter, a second year student. His parents are Charlotte and Harold Potter. I know that because they came to Hogwarts the day after he was sorted. They were shocked that he had been put into Ravenclaw instead of Gryffindor."

"..Right. Are their any more Potters here?"

"No. Any more questions?"

Harry racked his brain for more names. "Any Malfoys?" he asked suddenly. Say no, please say no, he thought.

"There's Claudia Malfoy. A fifth year Slytherin. She has most of the first and second year Slytherins following her lead like lost puppies."

Harry frowned. That sounded a lot like Draco Malfoy. "And?"

"Abraxas Malfoy. He's in his sixth year. He's a proud, cold hearted, disdainful prick."

Harry blinked. "All right... Thanks, Myrtle. You've been a great help."

He left before he could be witness to an onslaught of tears. There were so many Blacks. Too many to get his head around, Harry decided.

*

Despite the cold, the sun was out. Harry sat by the lake and watched a tentacle silently break the water, before slipping back in again. A glance at his watch told him students would be leaving their lessons now. Before he could rise, however, he noticed someone tall approaching. Someone he didn't recognize.

"Hey," the boy said as Harry scrambled to his feet and came face to face with a very familiar... well, face. A face like his own.

"Charlus Potter?" he asked tentatively.

The boy blinked, before a smile made its way onto his handsome face. "Yes, that's me. How did you know? I hear you're new."

"Someone pointed you out to me. Did you want something, or...?"

He raised a brow and slid his hands into his pockets. "I'm simply curious. I hadn't heard of a another Potter in the family. How are you related to us?"

Harry opened his mouth and closed it, feeling at a loss. "I'm not sure," he admitted lamely.

Charlus frowned, but was silent for a short moment. "You were home-schooled?"

"Yes... But I'd rather not talk about it."

"Oh?"

"It's..." Harry looked away. What was he meant to say? What excuse could he possibly come up with? He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned back to face the other boy, whose face beheld a serious expression.

"It's all right," Charlus said. "Unpleasant past?"

Harry nodded, relieved. "Sorry," he muttered.

The older boy smiled. "All right. What House are you in?"

Harry cocked his head to the side, a habit he had quickly picked up from Dorian, strangely e enough. "Slytherin. Will that be... a problem?"

The Gryffindor appeared nothing more than slightly surprised, and smiled again. "No, no, it's fine. We're not all prejudiced idiots, here."

"Oh, good. Shall we head back?"

As they began to walk, Harry asked, "How did you know I was out here?"

"I was watching you from Gryffindor Tower. I needed to know who this new Potter was."

"You still haven't really found out," Harry admitted.

The other boy shrugged. "That's not too much of a problem. You don't look too dangerous."

Harry smiled. "Looks can be deceiving."

"Is that a warning?" They approached the steps leading up to the Entrance Hall.

"Something of the sort."

The Gryffindor laughed. "All right, I had better watch my back from now on. Not that I don't already, with these snakes slithering around." He motioned towards a group of seventh year Slytherins who were silently watching them pass. Harry chose to ignore them.

"Where are we going?" he asked.

"Dinner."

"Already?"

"Yes. You've been sitting out there quite awhile now."

They passed a few students who were milling about and entered the Great Hall. Harry thanked him for being so understanding and they parted to go to their separate tables.

He was unprepared for the onslaught that reached him as he sat down next to Marie Bulstrode.

"What were you doing talking to him?" she asked immediately. Harry suddenly felt the eyes of all the nearest students on him, awaiting his reply. "Well, he is family," he replied smoothly, loading his plate with food.

"So? He's just another Muggle sympathizer, like the rest of those idiotic Gryffindors."

Harry shrugged. "Not my problem." Ignoring her glare, he looked around, unable to see either Tom or Dorian.

"He's looking for you," Cedrella said, once again sitting opposite him. Harry turned to her.

"Who is?"

She rolled her eyes and returned to the book in her lap.

"Dearest Tom is," Bulstrode said, irritated. "Though why he likes you so much, I don't know. It's not like him to hang around with half-bloods."

Harry sighed as several of the students gasped. At the moment it was merely third and fourth years who were eavesdropping, but still...

"Perhaps he is tiring of the glorious company of pure-bloods."

"He is a pure-blood, you fool," one of the younger years snapped.

Harry raised an eyebrow at her. "Keep telling yourself that."

"Trying to destroy my reputation, Harry?" a smooth voice said behind him. Harry turned before he could feel perturbed.

Tom stood looking down at him, Dorian at his side, wearing a smirk.

"Not at all," Harry said, moving over for them both to sit down. Tom seated himself, his eyes still on Harry, but Dorian chose to spell Bulstrode's dinner over her and sit in the seat she jumped out of, screeching.

Harry felt slightly closed in with one on either side of him, though he met Tom's gaze, unafraid. "Enjoy your day?" he asked, returning to his food.

"No," Dorian said immediately. "It was entirely dull. They ought to replace most of the staff; they are all incredibly dreary."

"Does the same go for Professor Slughorn?" Cedrella asked her eyes fixed on the book.

"Dear Cedrella, you know the answer to that. We can't abandon the wonderful Slug Club, now can we?"

"Slug Club?" Harry asked, although he knew what it was: a club Horace Slughorn had accumulated during his years as Head of Slytherin at Hogwarts. It consisted of the more high-profile students, the talented and the pure-blooded. Tom Riddle had been in it.

"Oh yes. You'll meet Professor Slughorn soon, Harry, if you're following Tom's timetable. I'm sure he'll absolutely adore you."

"Won't that be a joy," Harry said dryly, his eyes wandering to the head table. Only Dippet and Dumbledore sat there, along with a couple of professors he didn't recognize. No sign of Slughorn.

"And where have you spent the last couple of hours, Harry?" Tom asked as he applied food to his plate, ever graceful.

"In the library and on the grounds. I named my snake."

"He belongs to you now, does he?" Dorian asked. "I thought you just found him?"

"Yet he keeps following me, demanding mice and other things. So I suppose it's safe to assume he's mine."

"Is it a more than platonic relationship, then?"

Harry rolled his eyes, before pulling Anton gently out from beneath his robes.

"Tell Tom your new name," he hissed.

Anton raised his head and turned towards Tom, who appeared quietly amused.

"I am Anton," he said with a touch of pride.

Tom looked pleased. "A fitting name," he informed the snake.

"Well, this is a simply fascinating conversation," said Dorian, watching the three of them converse with a bemused look.

Bulstrode, sitting next to him, snorted. "A half-blood shouldn't be able to speak Parseltongue. Not when those more worthy are here to claim it."

"Like yourself, I suppose?" Cedrella said with a snort of her own.

Bulstrode narrowed her eyes. "What are you implying, Black? Oh wait; you've been disowned, haven't you? What's your name now?"

"Not yet, Bulstrode," Cedrella replied mildly, and she deigned to ignore her for the rest of the meal.

Harry sighed. "Do bloodlines come into every conversation of every meal, then?"

Dorian made an aghast sound. "Of course not. At dinner, it's bloodlines. At lunch we contemplate worthiness, and at breakfast we have deep, meaningful, prejudiced debates."

Cedrella laughed. "And discussion in the common room is a mixture of the three."

As amusing as this was, Harry felt somewhat dismayed. "Clearly you delve to cover a wide range of interesting topics whenever possible."

"Exactly," Dorian declared.

Tom laughed softly. "It is not as bad as it sounds," he said, amused.

"Yes; only completely dull and time-consuming," Dorian muttered. "Thank Merlin it's the weekend tomorrow."

Bulstrode uttered some form of squeal. "I can't wait!"

Dorian raised an eyebrow. "You're not still dating that fifth year cretin, are you? He has even l less of a brain than you do."

She scowled at him. "Shut up. At least I have a love-life, rather than consorting with every other object that moves, like yourself. And it's a Hogsmeade weekend!"

Dorian sighed. "You will never understand the concepts of mutual sex."

"Nor you the concepts of a relationship."

"You sound like an insipid Gryffindor."

"You sound like a complete and utter idiot."

"Now that was uncalled for. I am truly hurt. You have dented the bottomless pit that is my soul. I am wounded beyond measure."

"Oh, do shut up," Cedrella piped in absently.

They were interrupted. "Potter."

Harry turned to find an astonishingly blond boy looking down at him with cold and assertive f features.

"Yes?"

"Professor Slughorn would like to see you in his office immediately." With that, he strode off.

Harry turned round to see the others watching the boy walk away. "Who is he?"

"That's Abraxas Malfoy. He isn't particularly jolly," Dorian informed him.

"You had better go, Harry. Professor Slughorn does not like to be kept waiting," Tom said. "Here, let me escort you."

"Don't trouble yourself," Harry said as he stood.

Tom raised a brow as he rose. "It is no trouble."

Harry shrugged and followed him to the doors.

"Enjoy yourselves," Dorian called from the table. "Don't talk to anyone unworthy."

Harry rolled his eyes at him as Tom led him towards the dungeons. Soon they were alone and it was quiet.

"You appear to be fitting in quite easily," Tom surmised. "And Dorian has taken an immediate li liking to you."

Harry snorted. "Fitting in? I've had to improvise and rummage around for excuses all afternoon."

Tom gave an elegant shrug. "Yet you have made quite a few friends."

"Perhaps Slytherins have different concepts of friendship than Gryffindors." Harry wondered where this conversation was going. They were soon deep in the dungeons.

"It would appear so. Do you know Slughorn?"

"Yes. Not very well, but yes. He seemed a little over-obsessed with you. I had to spend a lot of time getting infor-" Oh, crap, Harry thought as he stopped. He couldn't keep letting things slip like that. Had Tom even considered Horcruxes yet? "Never mind."

Tom came to a halt and turned to him. He seemed to like stopping in the middle of hallways, Harry noted. "Getting information about what?"

Harry frowned. "Nothing. Don't ask me about it."

Tom remained expressionless.

Harry sighed and shoved his hands in his pockets. "So far, you haven't completely lived up to the image Dumbledore creates of you in my time."

Tom looked surprised at that. "Go on," he urged.

"Well," Harry said, cocking his head to the side, "I haven't yet encountered the charming persona I'm told you use on everyone. All I get is a mask of indifference."

"I am charming, Harry," Tom said, looking amused. "When I want to be."

"Right," Harry said disbelievingly, though a small smile tugged at his lips.

"I offered to escort you down here, didn't I? Is that not charming enough?"

Harry snorted. "You mean you left no room for argument and I had no choice but to follow you."

"Are you implying that I forced you to follow me?"

"No, just that your methods of escorting a person are less than charming."

Tom laughed softly and moved to stand directly in front of Harry.

"Would you like me to be more charming, Harry?"

Harry met the taller boy's gaze. "I'd like it if you would reveal a bit of emotion every now and then."

Tom's eyebrows drew together slightly, and Harry could see the calculating expression in his eyes.

"It is not appropriate for a Slytherin to reveal his emotions too openly."

"Well I'm the only other Slytherin here at the moment. I'm not going to run and tell the nearest person that you smiled."

As if contradicting him, Tom smiled. "There's nothing wrong with smiling."

"Smiling usually indicates that a person is amused or happy," Harry said laughingly.

Tom moved even closer then. Harry tensed slightly, wondering what the boy would do.

But all he did was ask, "Do you like it when I smile?"

Harry blinked. "I don't think I've seen enough of your smiles to come to a conclusion yet," he s said, realizing that he was on the verge of flirting with the murderer of his parents. For once, though, he dismissed it. He was having too much fun now to be serious.

Tom gave a very soft chuckle, his hand coming up to rest against Harry's cheek. "Well, I know for certain that you have a lovely smile, my dear Harry."

Harry could feel heat flush his cheeks, and silently made to move away. However, Tom was faster. One arm wrapped around Harry's waist and the other took a gentle but firm hold of his chin. And then Tom kissed him again.

This time, as Harry felt himself melting against the taller boy's body, he responded. The fact that he could hardly be called experienced was forgotten as he clung to the other Slytherin's robes.

It was Tom who pulled away slightly to stare into Harry's eyes. But he was too close for Harry to see his expression as anything more than a blur.

"Did you like that, Harry?" Tom murmured. "Do you like my kisses? You ran away from the last ones."

Harry felt speechless. He had no idea what to say to that. He wasn't meant to be kissing anyone here in the first place, let alone Tom Riddle.

"Ahem," a voice spoke up, and Harry turned to find the young equivalent of Slughorn watching them with a somewhat delighted expression on his face, though why, Harry had no idea. He could only imagine the picture they must make. He pulled away from Tom's embrace, and the boy's arms fell to his sides.

"Potter, is it?" the Professor said, getting straight to the point.

"Yes," Harry said hesitantly, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"Wonderful, wonderful, come with me. You come too, Tom." He turned round and began to march down the corridor, seeming to head for one of the doors at the end.

Harry followed, with Tom behind him. It was at the entrance to Professor Slughorn's office that he wondered, once again, just what it was that he was getting himself into.