Forever

Chapter 02: First Impressions

Harry stared up at the awe-inspiring bastion that was Hogwarts. Since he got off the train the feeling that something was wrong had grown rather than diminished. He was all the more certain when he saw Hagrid calling to the first years. It looked to him as if the half-giant had been crying; now that couldn't possibly be a good sign. As his gaze swept over the towers and pinnacles of the castle he felt that someone was watching him. He thought he could see the shadowy outline of somebody at a window. He squinted at it trying to make out who it was. Ron suddenly grabbed his elbow. "You OK, mate?"

"Fine," snapped Harry annoyed at being distracted. He turned back but the figure had gone.

"What is the matter with you?" asked Hermione. "What's so fascinating over there?"

"I thought I saw someone," Harry said. "Have either of you got the feeling that something bad is going to happen?"

"Now that you mention it," said Ron. "I think it's going to rain if we don't get in soon."

Harry was about to say something scathing to Ron that he'd probably regret later when Ginny came rushing up. "Harry!" she gasped. "I'm so sorry about earlier. We never thought that Colin would actually go and do it. "

"'S'alright," he said. "No harm done."

"Wonder where Malfoy is," said Ron as they entered the castle. "He was there in the prefect's carriage earlier with a ridiculous grin on his face. Probably still chuffed about his Dad getting off, the smarmy git."

The first thing Harry saw as they reached the Entrance Hall was Professor McGonagall. She looked as if she had to perform some very distasteful business and was not looking forward to it at all. She made a beeline for Harry when she saw him.

"Mr Potter, Miss Weasley, I'd like a word," she said. She turned to Ron and Hermione. "Go on to the feast. I'm sure you will be told when the time is right."

They gave Harry and Ginny puzzled looks before going on into the Great Hall. McGonagall lead them aside to where they couldn't be overheard. "I must impress upon the two of you that what I am going to say to you is of utmost importance," she said. "I need you to promise me that you will do as I say."

Harry looked at Ginny and saw that she was looking as surprised as he was. "Alright, Professor," he said. Normally he would have asked twenty questions before acquiescing to something like this but McGonagall was so earnest in her manner that he couldn't very well do anything else.

"No matter what you see in the great hall tonight, you are not to react," she said. "You also must not mention any of this to Mr Weasley and Miss Granger or anyone else. This conversation is to remain between the three of us. The headmaster will speak to you privately and answer any questions you may have after the feast. The password to his office is 'Sugar-quill'." She looked around uncomfortably. "He wanted to do this before you saw anything, but a necessary party hasn't shown up yet and he feels that it will help you understand better if this party is present when he speaks to you."

This was getting more confusing by the minute. "But Professor..." he said.

"You must promise me that you will not speak of anything untoward that you see tonight," she said urgently.

"Yes, Professor," they said in unison. Harry wished that he didn't like his head of house as much as he did. It would make it a lot easier to disagree with her.

Draco Malfoy bounced into the Entrance Hall. Literally. He was practically skipping. "Hogwarts! Hogwarts! Hoggy Warty Hogwarts!" he trilled. "We're back at Hogwarts! The most wonderful place in the world! We come here to learn! Wheeeeeeeeeeee! "

Harry was trying his best not to laugh; with McGonagall standing there it wasn't a very good idea. She probably would think that Harry had something to do with Malfoy's bizarre behaviour. Was Malfoy on drugs? He certainly seemed high. He glanced at Ginny and saw that she was going purple in her efforts to keep a straight face. McGonagall looked as if she were about to start smoking at the ears any minute.

"Malfoy!" she yelled. Malfoy looked up and his grin widened, a feat that Harry had not thought possible. "Professor McGonagall! The ever-wonderful Miss Minnie! The bestest teacher in the whole wide world," he said ecstatically.

Miss Minnie? Harry couldn't help himself and burst out laughing. McGonagall glowered at him. "Cheering charm", she muttered and waved her wand over Malfoy. "Finite Incantatem."

Malfoy stopped in the middle of serenading Pansy Parkinson, who was looking very bewildered. "What the... "he said.

"Mr Malfoy, you seem to be the unfortunate victim of a cheering charm. Do you have any idea who cast it?" said McGonagall glaring at him. She obviously was still angry being called Miss Minnie.

"No, Professor. But I'll bet it was Weasley," Malfoy said smirking at Harry and Ginny. They both started to defend Ron at the top of their voices. McGonagall held up a hand to silence them.

"What you think, Mr Malfoy, is of no importance to me. Do you have any proof whatsoever that Mr Weasley was the one that hexed you? No. Then kindly go on to the feast and stop wasting my time with your unfound accusations." She nodded to Harry and Ginny who were mentally cheering her on. "Remember what I said, you two," she said and went off to collect the first years.

"You slimy git. You know that Ron didn't hex you," spat Ginny at Malfoy.

"Watch it, Weaslet. For all I know it could have been your brother. On second thoughts you're probably right. A cheering charm would be way too complicated for him to perform."

"What are you all doing here?" Filch came up from behind a statue followed by his evil feline companion. "Plotting mayhem and mischief, no doubt. Get along with you."

"You got lucky, Malfoy," hissed Harry as they slipped into the great hall. "You'd better think twice before you start insulting my friends again, or have you forgotten what happen in the train two months ago? Enjoy being a slug much?"

Malfoy gave him a very dirty look before going over to the Slytherin table with Pansy. Harry turned to Ginny. "What d'you think about that business with McGonagall then?" he asked as they sat down.

She wasn't listening. She was staring ahead of her at the Slytherins with a very white face. She gripped Harry's elbow painfully hard and pointed to what she had seen." Look", she said in a voice that chilled Harry's bones. "It's him".

At first Harry saw nothing unusual. She was looking at a boy with dark hair whose face Harry couldn't see, as he seemed to be examining his cutlery. The boy looked up and Harry's heart stood still as their eyes met. Oh God, it's not true. It can't be him. It can't be. He couldn't look away. Those eyes, almost identical to his own, seemed to go on forever. He was drowning in a sea of green, his head was spinning. He'd seen those eyes before; he'd seen them mock him as he lay dying from the basilisk's venom in the Chamber of Secrets. They had haunted him in the last dream that he had, the one he so much wanted to forget. The one he could tell no-one about. The boy broke off his stare and Harry was startled out of his reverie. He turned to Ginny who looked as awful as Harry felt.

"It's him," she repeated. "Tom Riddle."

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Draco Malfoy sat down at the Slytherin table fuming. Damn Potter and his sidekicks! Why could he never get the better of them? He was positive that one or the other of them had hexed him as he got out of his carriage. To say that his mother had not been amused when she saw him get off the train last term would be putting it lightly. She was more annoyed that he had allowed himself to be cursed than anything. She had told him that she was tired of seeing him end up hexed every time she let him out of her sight and warned him not to get himself into any such situations this year which was why he had kept away from Potter and his groupies on the train.

He wasn't pleased with his mother either. His father was on a trip abroad somewhere and she had refused to see him off. She said that she had things to do and he'd understand later.

He noticed a boy of about his own age sitting next to him that he didn't know. "Hello," he said to him. "Who are you?"

The boy turned and looked him up and down lazily, as if wondering whether he was worth answering. "Jeremiah Leopold Arnez, transfer student, Durmstrang. You'll be Draco Malfoy, then?" he said.

"That's right," said Draco.

Arnez looked down at his fork. When he looked up again he stared across the hall for a few seconds. Draco looked to see what he found so interesting and saw him staring at Harry Potter, who was staring right back. Potter looked, in Draco's opinion, like he'd just walked in on Snape and McGonagall going at it in the prefects' bathroom.

Arnez broke off his gaze abruptly and turned to Draco. "That boy with the glasses. He's Harry Potter, isn't he?" Arnez said casually. Too casually Draco thought.

"Yeah, that's Potty. He's a real pain in the arse, though. He hangs around with mud bloods and muggle-lovers. Doesn't know what's good for him."

Arnez nodded and was silent, apparently lost in thought. Draco let him be for a while and then as the sorting began a thought stuck him. "Durmstrang, huh?" he said to Arnez. "How come you have a British accent?"

"Durmstrang has students from all over the world. It's hardly local like your school," Arnez said superciliously. "It's sort of an alternative for parents who wish their children to go where they have a more liberal approach to certain subjects, if you know what I mean. You can hear about a dozen different accents at Durmstrang. Which one would you like me to have?"

Draco pouted and then hurriedly straightened his face when he realised what he was doing. "I knew that," he said peevishly." I just don't know any British wizarding families with Arnez as their surname."

"And you know all the Wizarding families in the British Isles, do you? What a social animal you must be."

Draco considered this. "I suppose I might not know your family. But I still think that I would have heard of you if you go to Durmstrang. I have a second cousin who goes there and we write regularly. I'm sure Natalia would have mentioned you."

Arnez sneered at him. "Not everyone's life revolves round your family. I don't go out of my way to seek out Malfoys and their brethren. We were barely acquaintances."

Draco sneered back. "I'll bet you didn't. She belongs to the branch of the family which has some Veela blood in them and it shows in her. Every male student above the second grade seeks her out. She often writes about the ones who are worth noticing and I know enough of her to know that she would find you worth noticing."

"Her charms don't affect me," he said smirking. "I'm immune."

"Hah!" Draco scoffed. "What are you? A eunuch?"

"No. I don't like girls."

"You don't like... Oh!" It took Draco a few seconds for this to sink in, then he scooted back a few inches away from Arnez.

He laughed. "Don't worry, Draco. I have no plans to deflower you. I don't go lusting after Malfoys. Too anaemic looking for my liking."

Draco relaxed a bit. "So why did you transfer to Hogwarts then?"

"The standards went down after Karkaroff did a runner. So here I am."

"So here you are. You've been sorted into Slytherin I take it."

"Naturally."

"Year?"

"Sixth."

"So, we'll be sharing a dormitory." Draco was rather pleased at the prospect of having someone other than Crabbe, Goyle and Zabini to talk to, someone with whom one could actually carry out a conversation with.

Arnez shook his head. "No we won't. I have my own room. I told you, I fly the other side of the Quidditch pitch. They don't want to put me in with the boys and it would be inappropriate to put me with the girls. So I have a room all to myself. Lucky me."

Draco considered pretending to be gay for a few seconds; it certainly had its perks. But when weighed against how furious his father would be it wasn't really worth it. "How did they find out about your... preferences, anyway?"

"I got caught in the broom-shed with my roommate. Let's just say the reaction we caused wasn't pretty."

Draco snickered. "Ouch!"

"Tell me about it, I won't be doing that again in a hurry."

"You're OK, Arnez. What do they call you? Jerry or Leo? We're all friends here. In Slytherin we have to stick together. "

"I know what being a Slytherin means," the boy hissed, startling Draco with his viciousness. Then he smiled at him cheerfully, a smile that Draco noticed didn't reach his eyes. "They call me Jerry Lee. I was named after either of the two scoundrels my mother thought might have been my father*"

Draco didn't know what to make of this. "So are you a pureblood, or what?" he asked, wondering if they boy would hiss at him again.

"I might be, my mother was one."

"Ooooh, so you're a love child?" cooed Pansy, who had obviously been listening on the last part of their conversation but hadn't heard (or chose not to have heard) about Arnez not liking girls.

Arnez whipped his head round and stared at her for a second. Then he laughed. "I suppose you could call me that," he said easily.

Draco snorted. Love Child? That was just an over-romantic way of saying bastard. He turned to see Pansy simpering at the new arrival and shook his head. This ought to be fun when she found out he was gay.

Arnez rolled his eyes at him and then pretended to look interested in what Pansy, who was flirting with him like there was no tomorrow, was saying.

Draco leaned back and watched him while he was thus occupied. He was going to have to keep an eye on this one.

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He had seen him coming up to the castle, and it was a bit like meeting someone you'd met at nursery. He'd been so familiar and yet so difficult to place. He'd been watching the students come in and had been drawn to a skinny youth with messy black hair, glasses and eyes that could have been his own. He had looked as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders. The boy had noticed he was being watched and looked over to where Tom had been standing. Then he'd turned to talk to a tall redheaded boy and Tom had slipped off into the shadows.

Tom knew that this boy was important, he didn't know why, but there was something about him. Tom felt that he ought to know him, that he had known him in his other life. He wished he knew what type of potion had been used on him. He knew some things but he couldn't remember them happening. The events after he turned sixteen were hazy. He had read up about himself and just what had happened to him but he didn't remember most of it.

At the Slytherin table he had met the Malfoy boy, the boy was the image of his grandfather, and Lysander Malfoy (who had been in Tom's year) had been the image of his own father. Tom was beginning to think that the Malfoy family had done away with normal conception methods and just cloned themselves instead.

Then he saw him again. Across the hall, at the Gryffindor table. Their eyes met and the other boy had refused to look away. Tom felt the same strange connection between them. He found himself caught in the other's captivating gaze, green eyes, almost identical to his own, that seemed to go on forever. He was drowning in a sea of green, his head was spinning. He managed to break off eye-contact before he was swept away.

Harry Potter. Who else could it be? Malfoy confirmed it. Tom snuck another glance at him. The boy and a redheaded girl next to him were goggling at him as he were the Ghost of Christmas Past** or something. He supposed that they must have recognised him for who he really was. This time he noticed the scar on his forehead. I did that thought Tom and to his great surprise he felt a small stab of remorse.

He had been given instructions on what he was to tell the other students. He had blushed crimson when Dumbledore had suggested that he give alternative preferences as a reason for his separate quarters. Tom wasn't even sure if he was gay or not. He admitted that boys did turn his head but he had never actually done anything about it. He figured that Dumbledore must have found about it from his past? Future? Tom didn't even know what to call it. Dumbledore had also insisted that he tell anyone who asked that he wasn't sure if he were a pureblood or not as he was not aware of his father's identity. Tom knew exactly why this was: he didn't want him associating with Slytherin's elitist purebloods. Most of them looked down on illegitimate children and Dumbledore, the sneaky old bastard that he was, knew it.

Malfoy seemed satisfied with his explanations at any rate. An annoying female friend of Malfoy's started to chat him up just when Tom thought that they had got past the interrogation stage and he found his thought turning to Harry Potter again. He could feel a few nasty confrontations coming up. Oh well, he thought, at least it will be interesting.

With that he turned to Malfoy's friend and tried to look as if he was listening to what she had to say.

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