Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Harry knew what he had to do.

All of the Horcruxes were almost destroyed.

Neville was going to kill Nagini.

Voldemort would be mortal once more.

All Harry had to do was die.

It was quite simple really. It would be easy. One spell, hopefully painless. As he walked down the crumbling bridge, the moon shining down on him, he couldn’t help but let his mind race.

All those who died for the cause, for him, and he was scared to do the same.

Heroes always had to die if it meant the villain dies too. That's the moral of every movie, every play, every story, ever.

He stopped, leaning over the edge.

“For fucks sake.” he muttered, his breath shaking has he exhaled. The Golden Snitch weighed heavily in his pocket. “I’m really gonna die tonight.”

The snitch felt warm in his cold hand, so he pulled it out the pocket.

I open at the close.

Poetic, isn’t it?

He lifted it to his lips slowly, pressing a small kiss to the heated gold body of the sphere. It began to open, revealing a small, black rhombus, the sign of the deathly hallow’s within.

It floated up, resting in his palm. The wind blew, shuffling his hair. He could still hear the muffled commotion from within the ruins of the castle.

“The Resurrection Stone? Imagine if I had Dumbledore’s wand. That would be pretty cool.”

There was a cold gush of wind next to him.

“Would make you the Master of Death.”

“Holy Mother of Merlin!” Harry cried out, jumping back slightly. A hooded figure stood, about 9ft tall, leaning on the bridge wall next to him.

“Y-youre the G-Grim Reaper?”

“No, that’s just a persona, a nickname. You see, the concept of Death is such a confusing thing, humans need to give me a moniker; to humanize me to understand. I am Death. You are my Master.”

“I’m not… I can't be… there’s no way.”

“That's my stone. You have my cloak. You are the master of my wand-”

“But I’m not! I never disarmed Dumbledore! I didn’t kill him either! Snape is the one who-”

“Draco Malfoy did, the night the old man died, before Severus Snape arrived. And you disarmed Draco, at his manor. I keep a watchful eye on all my possessions, and you have made that job easy by keeping them all connected.”

“I’m…”

“My master. And as your loyal soldier, I have a quest for you.”

“A Quest?”

“Yes.” sighed Death.

“Wait, If I’m your master, why are you giving me the quest?”

“Because that’s how this works. Look, you have 2 options here. Option 1, you die.”

“Im not immortal?”

“No. Some drunk wizard made that up in his book to make the allure more fascinating. Option 1, you die. You save the wizarding world, and Voldemort is defeated, but you’re still dead and you never get to experience the world free from his terror. Real Martyr type stuff. Or you can take Option 2.”

“What’s Option 2?”

“I send you back to 1942.”

“Why 1942? Isn’t that the war? Like the World War? Why would I want to be sent there?”

“Let me finish! You’re really bad at this, you know.”

“Sorry. I’m normally pretty good, I’m just a little nervous. Might die, you know? Continue.”

“You are sent back to 1942. You attend Hogwarts in your 6th year. You have to stop him from creating his first horcrux. If he does that, you have failed, and he will spiral into Lord Voldemort. If you succeed, Voldemort will never kill a single person. No Wizarding wars, and your parents will live.”

“You want me to go back, and save Tom Riddle? Can’t I just go back and kill him? Can’t you just go back and kill him?”

“No. That’s a whole other timeline. Not doing that again.”

“So I save him, then what?”

“Good thing you asked. I then come back when the deed is done, pick you up, wipe your memory, send you back into an infant and drop you off Halloween 1981.”

“You can do that?”

“I’m Death, of course I can break the Laws of Time. I basically made the rules on what I can and can’t do.”

“Well, what is the afterlife like?”

“Can’t tell you that. Corporate secret. NDA stuff.”

“Youre a lot more… normal then the story’s claim.”

“Yeah. People fear what I do, so they make me sound crazy. Do you know who is crazy?”

“Who?”

“Fate. He throws the most chaotic parties.”

“Uhhh.”

“Anyway. Not important. The point is…”

“I either die easily or struggle for a bit for a perfect life that I’ve always wanted?”

“Would you stop-! Actually, yeah… that- that is the point.”

“And if I go back, when I come back, everything will be normal?”

“Yes. You will still meet the Malfoy brat, and your friends, Don and Charlotte.”

“Ron and Hermione?”

“Oh, is that their names?”

Harry couldn't help but sigh.

The option seemed obvious. He always wanted to grow up with parents, nobody would die, it would be perfect. But he would have to save Tom first, and how long will that take?

“So you choose?”

“I don’t know. Ive always wanted to-”

“Yeah, you dont have to tell me. I heard your internal monologue. As for how long it takes, its unclear, but ill be watching, and I’ll swoop in then Destiny tells me his Voldemort side is completely dead.”

“Destiny?”

“She’s lovely. Not the point. I don't know how long, could be a few months, maybe a few decades.”

“And you really can’t tell me what the afterlife is like?”

“No, I'll get a demerit on my record.”

“Fine. I guess, I’ll take having parents.”

“Going back.”

“I’m more thinking about just going back without him existing.”

“Sure sure. Just walk to your Death, then I can send your soul back.”

“Really! You didn’t say I’d still die. Does it hurt?”

“I can actually answer this. The Killing Curse doesn’t hurt. It’s just like someone hitting the power off button.”

“Fine.”

“Go have some fun, Master!”

“Have some fun?”

“You only get one death, so enjoy it.”

Harry sighed, wishing he had a vial of liquid luck or something right about now. Something to take his mind off his death.

He stepped closer to where Voldemort and his army was, his head held high, a fake front of confidence charging through him.

He could hear them mumbling as he arrived. Hagrid cried for him to leave, but Harry paid him no mind.

“Harry Potter… The Boy Who Lived… Come to die.”

There was a pause. A moment of pure silence. His thoughts rained louder than ever.

“Avada-”

“Wait!” Harry shouted. The Death Eaters looked confused. Voldemort looked pissed.

“Don’t I get last words? I feel I’m owed some last words to be remembered by.” He asked, adrenaline cheering him on. He was going to die either way, might as well go out with memorability.

“Fine. Speak Boy.” He demands.

“Firstly… You all suck. Secondly, You’re a little obsessed with me, it’s a bit fucking creepy. Thirdly, Hagrid, you were like a father to me, let people know I went willingly, and awesomely. And finally… Fuck you, Tom, Eat shit and die. This has been fun, I hope to do it again some time... Strike me down, Snake-Face.”

The look on his pale face was worth every word. A mix of rage and embarrassment. His wand relifted, striking Harry in the chest with a wordless curse.

He must have really meant it.

Harry came to sit in an office. Death’s office. Death sat opposite from him, and seemed to be playing Mortal Kombat.

Harry groaned and sat up more.

“You’re up. You must have really needed that sleep, mate. You’ve been out for a couple hours. Most humans last 5-10 minutes, half an hour at a push.”

“Hmm.” He groaned and he stretched. He did feel more refreshed.

“To business. First rule of time travel. Never walk into yourself. Luckily for you, you didn't exist back then, so you’ll be okay. But your blood line did, so don’t mess that bit up either. Second rule, don't tell anyone you’ve time traveled. Human brains are very small, and they will just have a crisis or start a new religion or something strange.”

“Can you write this down?”

Death produces a notebook, “Already did it. Rule three. Don't show this book to anyone. Rule four, don’t break the future. Don't say you invented something, or mention something that didn’t exist yet. That's a big mess for me to fix, and it’s a pain.”

“Is that it?”

“I think so. Just don't be daft back then. No killing Riddle. No telling him what he will become. You also can’t make a horcrux or open the chamber or anything like that.”

“Wasn’t planning on it.”

“Brilliant. So I had a little look at your lineage. You are also a distant descendant of The Peverell family. I know, it's ironic. Full-circle moment. So you will be Harrison Peverell. Any objections.”

“Why Harrison?”

“Becuase it sounds cooler than Harry. You can still introduce yourself as Harry, but you are Harrison. Here is the rulebook, birth certificate. 1st September, 1926. 1st because thats the day im sending you in on. You have a trunk of all your supplies that you will need, all the clothes fit. I also took the liberty of packing you regular clothes. Say thank you.”

“Thank you?”

“Aww, you are so welcome Master. No, let's go, you don't want to miss your train do you?”

“No-?” Harry asked, being pulled up by the cloaked figure.

“I’m only kidding, you won't be late, I can control time, remember?”

Harry groaned and followed Death into his storage cupboard. A giant, swirling, green vortex was behind the door.

“You’ll arrive in the bathroom of King’s Cross Station. Same gate as usual. I believe in you, Master!” he shouted cheerfully as he kicked Harry into the portal, throwing his luggage through after.

Harry arrived, sat on a toilet lid with his trunk at his feet. A note was fastened to the handle.

I forgot to mention, I got you a bird.
It's an augurey. His name is Berodach.
He’s already at the castle.
He knows you, and he’s probably the only sorrowful bird in the Owlery.
-Death

Of course he got an Augurey as a pet.

He could distantly hear the trains whistling, as he grabbed his trunk, dragging it out of the bathroom.

“Nine and Three Quarters.” He muttered.

Chapter Text

“Here we go again.” Harry mumbled to himself while getting to Platform 9 ¾. It was going to be a long year. He remembered quite a lot about the ways of Hogwarts, and some tricks and tips, but it was a different time now. Plus, every year previously, he had been hunted/hunting evil. The same evil he was now here to save.

Now, the train.

See, his father had met his godfather on the train, and he had met both Ron and Hermione on the train. He hoped history (Or the future?) would repeat itself. He boarded pretty early, as there was still an hour till the train was scheduled to leave, and he wasn’t waving bye. He grabbed the closest compartment and made himself at home. He had put his trunk in storage, and he had a small satchel with him. It contained a random book they would study, a leather-back notebook that Death gave him, his marauders map, his wand, and his father’s cloak. It also had a few charms on it, like an extension charm, and a notice-me-not charm.

He just sat and waited. Waited for the train to fill with students. Waited for the train to take off. He did notice that there were a few more carriages than he remembered, but he had already sat down, and he couldn’t be bothered with getting back up and exploring it.

Around half an hour before departure, the door slid open, and there was a group of boys standing in the doorway and corridor. Stood front and center was Tom Marvolo Riddle.

“Good Morning. Would it be alright if we joined you for the journey?” he asked, his silky smooth voice cutting through the air like butter. Damn… He was charming.

“Not at all.” Harry said, a subtly defensive mask settling into place. He went back to reading the workbook. He had no reason to hate the boy, as he wasn’t the monster yet. Or was he. Harry never paid that much attention while Dumbledore rambled about what Tom was like as a student, but now he wished he had.

Tom displayed a practiced smile and took the seat next to the window, directly opposite Harry. 7 other boys sat to join them.

A tall boy with familiar platinum blonde hair, and a familiar air of entitlement swept in, sitting next to Tom; Grandpa Malfoy. He looked a lot like Lucius, but with sharper facial features and he was taller. In fact, he looked to be the tallest, only slightly surpassing Tom.

Another boy with dark skin and short black hair smiled politely at Harry, before sitting down next to the Malfoy-boy. He was rather tall, at about 5,9 or 5,10. He seemed rather muscular. He had a head-boy badge pinned to his robes.

A third slumped down next to Harry. He had recognisable features, and a… familiar… glint in his eye.

An almost identical boy sat next to him, but he was even more familiar. He looked younger than the first, but they both had similar face shapes. Harry guessed they were related, but he couldn’t place how he recognised them. Why did he recognise them? They looked a bit like…

Like Sirius! Was this Sirius’ dad? Which one? Harry had seen pictures of Sirius’s dad, and heard stories, but they both looked so similar.

A slim and quiet boy came in, head down for some reason. He took the seat on the opposite side to Harry, next to the only nice one in the area. He had to be one of the tallest, at least 6ft. He had short brown hair, and reminded Harry of Neville a little bit.

A boy wearing a death glare sat next to him. It made Harry almost laugh at how pissed off he looked. He was by far the largest of the boys. He wasn’t overweight, but not all of it was muscle. He sort of reminded Harry of a brick-wall, or a train. Black hair, blue eyes, a few scars rested on his cheek, but they look inflicted from curses. He was also pale, with a look of estranged mania in his eyes.

Finally, a boy with the widest smile came bounding into the space. He plopped down next to Sirius’ family member with a chuckle and threw his legs across the compartment, into the brick-wall’s lap. The boy gave him a glare, but the legs weren’t moved. The wall soon folded his arms and ignored them. The newest boy’s hair was black, his skin was light brown, and his grin was infectious.

The door then slid shut again.

Harry dragged his eyes to the now shut door, realising on the way that every boy was in green robes, each pristinely kept. He then looked to Tom, who was staring directly at him, an irritating smirk plastered on his face. His eyes were brown, yet tinged with red. Harry saw right through the constructed ‘good boy’ front, straight to the monster simmering behind.

“So, What’s your name?” asked Tom, his posture set, hands clasped in his lap and legs together at every point. Harry doubted he would move till they got to Hogsmeade Station.

“Harry.”

“Harry…?” Tom hinted on.

“It’s probably something muggle-like.” Malfoy snorted before leaning into Tom’s ear. “He’s probably a mudblood. Come on, let's go somewhere else.”

Tom simply held up an open hand to him and seemed to satisfy Malfoy enough to sit up straight again; like a trained dog. Definitely a Malfoy.

“Do you have a surname?”

“Yeah.” Harry said, deciding to play the dumb card. Lesson One of Survival: Be underestimated. It was a luxury he never got in his previous life.

“What is it?”

“It’s a surname.”

Harry swore he could see Tom’s eye twitch with irritation, but he continued. Harry looked back down to the book in his lap. “My name is Tom Riddle. This is Abraxas Malfoy.” He said, gently pointing his hand to blondie. Knew it, Malfoy.

“Hi, I’m Nathaniel Mulciber.” said the boy next to Malfoy. Harry looked up and shook the offered hand. In his mind, he was cataloguing every detail of each boy, ranking them. He assumed these would be the first generation of Death Eaters.

“Corvus Lestrange the Sixth.” said the grumpy looking wall. He even sounded pissed off. Lestrange explained… well, his whole appearance really. “And this is Damien Nott.” He faintly gestured to the quiet boy next to both him and Mulciber.

“Hi there Harry. My name is Benjamin Avery, but you can call me Benji. Everyone does.” said the boy on the end of his own bench, His legs over Lestrange.

“Orion Black.” Said the younger Black. Orion was Sirius’ father, right?

“Alphard. Alphard Black. He’s my cousin.” said the boy directly next to Harry, his eyes closed as he leant back. He sounded familiar to Harry. He must be the Uncle that left Sirius money?

“Nice to meet you all.” Harry lied. Actually, it wasn’t a full lie, as Avery and Mulciber seemed to be nice people. He couldn’t get a read on Nott, but he assumed he was vile if he was hanging out with Tom and his ‘friends’. As soon as he closed his mouth, the train honked and began moving.

“So. I can’t help but notice you aren’t in house colours. I also can’t help but notice that you appear to be too old to be a first year student. That and the fact I don’t recognise you. None of us do.” Riddle spoke, obviously attempting to unravel Harry.

“I’m a transfer.” Harry replied bluntly. He had never been any good with following lies, so he decided to keep his replies simple and to the point. He followed the identity that Death gave him. He found lies would often spiral and collapse when he told them.

“From where?” Asked Orion judgmentally.

“Home school. I decided after my OWL’s, that I’d like to attend an actual school.”

“Transfers are very rare, but your reasoning seems understandable. Any idea what house you will be sorted into?” Riddle questioned. He effortlessly controlled the conversation that Harry, if he wasn’t aware of Tom’s history, would have believed it was the natural flow.

“Well, what are my options?” He replied, following his ignorant path.

“Well, in reality you don’t get options. When you are sorted, it decides your personality or attributes. You hardly get a say.” explained Nathaniel.

“The houses are Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Gryffindor, and Slytherin.” Tom spoke. His tone changed for each house; dismissive, respectful, disgusted, prideful.

“Hufflepuffs are away with the wind, scatter-brains. A plant pot would be more useful.” spat Lestrange.

“Ravenclaws are the only ones that actually deserve our respect. They are smart, and know their place. They are like the budget version of us.” spoke Orion with pride. Harry could feel the entitlement radiating from where he was sitting.

“Gryffindors are absolutely the worst option. They would rather die in ‘bravery’ then use their brains and live. It’s probably an ego thing.” spoke Abraxas. Harry could see the resemblance between him and both Draco and Lucius.

“And then, finally, Slytherin. The most superior option. Cunning, Ambitious, Resourceful. Made for greatness. We are the elite of the school, whether people like to admit it or not.” spoke Tom slowly. Harry felt like he was watching a four year old explain their favorite character in a show, and why.

“And I don’t get to choose?”

“Not really no.” mumbled Alphard from his side, still with his eyes closed and head tipped back against the wall of the compartment. He looked as tired and fed-up as Harry felt.

“And you’re all Slither-rings?” he asked, really layering the ignorance.

“Slytherin, yes.” Corvus gritted his teeth at Harry.

“Yeah, I’ll probably be a Gryffindor, or Hufflepuff. I am kind like that.”

Harry saw Tom roll his eyes, Abraxas sigh, Corvus move his body away, and Orion shifted in his seat.

Only Benjamin, Nathaniel, Alphard and Damien didn’t respond.

There was a bang on the door and it swung open. There was a girl, about their age, if not a bit older. She had brown hair, neatly tied into a bun and her wand in hand. She then observed the compartment, before pointing her wand at Nathaniel.

“Mulciber. What do you think you are doing? You have responsibilities now. I am not going to be doing your job because you’d rather sit with your friends and chat.” she shouted in a strong Scottish accent. Harry half expected her to leap on Mulciber if he were close enough.

“Sorry Minnie. Will do.”

Minnie? Scottish? No…

She grimaced, “Don’t you dare call me Minnie. It is Minerva to you, you aren’t my friend. That goes for all you boys. Oh. Who’s this? Is this the new transfer student? Lovely to meet you. I’m Minerva.”

“Yeah, I was… was settling him in. How do you know about him? I didn’t.” Nate said, attempting to soothe her.

“Headmaster Dippet entrusted me with the information, much to say about you.”

Nate mocked her subtly.

“Don’t be an arse Nathaniel. Mr Riddle is competent enough to brief the boy. You have to tour the train and settle the firsties. Come on.” she shouted as she stormed off down the train. He sighed before getting up and wandering out slowly. Avery’s legs moved back once he was gone, and everyone moved slightly to occupy the newly available space.

“What was that about?”

“Nate is Head Boy. Minnie is Head Girl. She’s a Gryffindor. You want to be in her house?” Benjamin explained.

“I doubt she is the entire house, and Head Boy and Girl? What’s that?” Harry replied, enjoying the playing dumb thing

“Head Boy and Girl are two seventh years from any house. They are basically the teacher’s servants. No idea why Nate got the title.” he continued.

“Then there are prefects, like me. We are a boy and a girl from each house, chosen in the fifth year. They are the Head Boy and Girl’s ‘servants’ as Benjamin so kindly put it.” Tom spoke so eloquently, Harry understood why everyone fell for his charm. Everyone but him.

“You’re a Prefect?”

“I am, Yes.”

“Bit posh. I’d rather just get on with studying.” Harry said, finding entertainment in Tom’s small moments of annoyance. He realised in that moment, pissing Tom off would be his saving grace.

The ride was full of Tom subtly trying to decode him and Harry, quite easily, shutting down each of his attempts. He soon developed his own tricks, like shrugging really annoyed Tom, or replying with “what” or “huh” instead of ‘pardon’. But that seemed to irritate everyone in the compartment.

“So, any advice?” Harry finally asked, putting his book down for the first time in 3 hours. Tom's eyes drew to his once more.

“For what?” grunted Lestrange.

Harry shrugged, “When I get there.”

“Keep to yourself. If you make friends, great. If you don’t, oh well. But don't make enemies.” spoke Alphard, eyes still closed. His answer made Harry jump, as he thought the boy dozed off an hour into the journey.

“And what if I do make an enemy?” Harry questions. Alphard is about to speak again before Tom cuts him off.

“Are you looking for trouble…” Harry could tell he wanted to call him by his surname, but he didn’t know it yet. It gave Harry a jolt of enjoyment at toppling Riddle, even if it was over something as simple as a name.

“No. No trouble here.”

“Well if you did, then you would be ruined. There are networks, you see. Someone knows someone. They know someone else. Et Cetera.” Avery explained with a grin. He looked as if he took joy in the thought of people ruining their lives. Maybe he wasn’t as joyful as he seemed.

“So do try to avoid it.” Malfoy spoke with such regality, Harry thought he was speaking to the Royalty.

They returned to a soft silence. Harry could feel Tom’s eyes glued to him, yet he refused to give the boy the satisfaction of knowing how much it unnerved him.

After what felt like years of being locked in the same room as psycho-killers, Hogwarts soon came into view. It looked almost identical to how it had been while Harry attended all the way back in the future. In reality, it had only been half a century's worth of change, in thousands of years of existence.

The train stumbled into the station, making a cacophony of noises that made it sound like it was going to be its last journey. Nobody moved. They remained still for a good few minutes after they stopped moving. Harry soon drifted his eyes up to Tom’s; still locked to his own.

As if that had been a magic password, everyone stood and gathered their things to leave. Tom and Harry moved last. Tom stood with such grace as he sauntered out behind his ‘friends’. Harry grabbed his bag and left. He avoided Tom the entire way, waiting for another ride up to the castle. He refused to go on the boats with the first years, and was allowed to take the carts. He petted a thestral before climbing into the cart it was pulling. He sat with 2 women. They both seemed older than him, and they were fussing about each other. Speaking in hushed tones.

One had brown hair that came down to her elbows, green eyes and a very formal appearance to her. Harry couldn’t deny she was pretty. She spoke in such a proper way, Harry had a hard time understanding what she was saying. He wasn’t trying to be nosey, he just needed as much information on everything he found. Lesson Two of Survival: Gather Intel.

The other had red hair that only came to her shoulders. She was less formal, even slouching in her chair. She kept looking over at Harry, taking suspicious glances over him.

They sat very close to each other, opposite Harry. He didn’t mind. They didn’t want to introduce themselves, and that was perfect for him.

They soon stopped again, both ladies jumping off and following the crowd. He also hopped off, and was soon escorted by elves inside.

“What are your names?” he asked the two rushed elves as they directed him, a firm, boney hand around his wrist from one of them. They didn’t reply. Maybe they didn’t speak English. Was that a thing of the future?

“I actually want to know. Please tell me, I don’t want to be rude.” he asked again.

“Mopsy,” the one holding him finally said. “An’ that be Flobber.” She said, gesturing to the other elf who had taken his bag from his shoulder and was refusing to hand it back.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Harry.”

“We shall calls you Master, Master.”

“Please don’t. Just call me Harry. You have my personal permission.”

They both stopped and looked up at him. He gave a nod as if to say he was being honest. They soon nodded in acceptance and continued to guide him.

When they got to the door, he grabbed his wand and the map, casting a security ward on his bag and putting his map and wand in his pocket.

“Thank you very much for the escort, Mopsy. You too Flobber, but you really didn’t need to carry my bag, I would have managed.”

“No Mr Harry. ‘Tis rude for a guest to have to slave away.” Flobber spoke, bowing low. Mopsy joined him in the bow and then they both apparated away, taking his bag with them.

He looked around the space, realising it to be the same one that shaped his friendships when he was younger. He hummed remembering how smug Malfoy had been, and how Ron had been there for him.

The chatter of first years soon echoed in the space as they climbed up the stairs. A gentleman led the horde of children. He looked familiar too, with grey hair and a grey beard. He had a dark suit on with a pair of glasses hanging around his neck. Was that Dumbledore?

“Good evening students,” he announced. “My name is Professor Dumbledore, I am Deputy Headmaster of Hogwarts and Head of Gryffindor house.”

All the children bundled together at the top of the stairs, Harry standing off to the side. They all watched with adoration, while Harry paid half a mind to the rambling ex-mentor.

“Through these doors, your sorting ceremony waits. You shall all follow me, and wait for your name to be called, you will then go sit at the table that you are assigned, understood?” he asked, not waiting two seconds before opening the double doors. Harry followed behind him but in front of the swarm, as not to be trampled by the excited legs.

He got to the front, the stool and hat where they are every year; good to see some things never change.

“Good evening students. The sorting ceremony will commence shortly. Before I call any names, I would like to invite Harrison Peverell to the seat.” He lifted the hat. Harry sighed and walked forward, sitting down and having the hat placed on his head.

“Ah, Peverell? That’s not quite true now is it, Mr Potter?” the hat spoke to him, blissfully silent to the rest of the hall.

“No, it’s not. And I need a favour. Sort me in Slytherin.” he thought back.

“Ah, we are finally in agreement I see. What changed your mind?”

“I need to be able to see Riddle’s every move, so I need to be in the same house. Just announce it already. I can’t afford to draw the suspicion of being a hat-stall.”

“Very well, Mr Potter.” It sent back before speaking to the hall. “Better be Slytherin!”

There were a few claps from the Slytherin Table, some from the others, and professors behind him. Harry lifted the hat off his head, putting it back on the stool before Dumbledore could reach it. He noticed, as he walked over, none of Tom’s crew applauded.

He sat as far from Riddle and his people as possible. He didn’t pay attention for the rest of the sorting, only half noticing when a new kid joined him at the table.

The food’s appearance pulled him back. He grabbed a few bits to eat, not interacting with anyone at the table. He didn’t even try, just completely ignored everyone’s attempts at striking up a conversation with him.

He mumbled a quick thank you into his plate, and his food cleared, replaced by a treacle tart.

The small, surely mindless, gesture almost brought a tear to his eye. Before they went on the run, before the wedding, Molly packed him with a box of her homemade treacle tarts. It was the only thing he ate after Sirius died, and his love for the treat still burned bright.

He ate it slowly, savouring the sweetness of the treat.

Once everyone began to move, he got straight out of his seat and in with the crowd. One of the Prefects attempted to collect him with the first years, but he walked in the other direction, trusting that the school couldn’t have changed its blueprints. If all else failed, he had his map.

Ever since Remus had died, the map had become slower, and more messy to read. It also presented with the message “Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs were proud to present the Marauders Map”.

On his walks down, he decided to take the long way, so he was sure he could avoid other people. It had been years since Harry had walked the halls, and he was realising details he had either forgotten, or hadn’t been there while he attended.

“Good Evening. May I assist you?” announced a smooth, french accented voice. Harry turned to see a slim, blonde man on the other side of the hall. He was pale, with sharp cheekbones and a handsome smile. He was in blue robes, with the glint of a silver badge on his chest. A Ravenclaw Prefect?

“No, I’m just going to my common room.” Harry dismissed, hoping he would take that as reason enough and walk in the other direction.

“You’re Peverell, right? The new student.”

“Um, yeah. I guess I am.”

“Do you need some assistance finding the right location?” The boy asked, walking toward Harry. He didn’t need help, but he couldn’t blow his cover.

“Yes please. Must have gotten a bit lost.”

“Hmm. The castle can be a bit disorientating at first, but you adjust within a few months. You may even discover some hidden passageways. You aren’t far off.” He explained with faux intrigue. He reminded Harry of Tom; if Tom wasn’t a murderous psycho. They wandered through the corridors and eventually made their way to the dungeons.

“Here you are,” he spoke. “Your new, temporary home.”

“Thanks. I don’t think I ever got your name.”

“Phillip. Phillip Rosier.”

Rosier? Wasn’t that the name of one of Voldemort’s followers? Maybe it was after this generation. This guy’s son, or nephew.

Harry nodded before Phillip mumbled the password and the door opened. Harry didn’t really need to know the password, as he discovered when he was bored during his previous life, that just speaking parseltongue to the door opens it. But for appearance sake, he needed to know.

“If you ever need any help, come find me. Or Tom Riddle. He is your Prefect.” Phillip explained as he turned and walked back the way they came. Harry entered the door, walking straight through the common room that was now filled with new students, no doubt waiting for a speech from the Head Of House. He went straight to where he could feel his ward from his bag calling him.

His dorm was blissfully empty, as if none of his roommates had arrived yet. He swiftly organized his belongings and climbed onto his bed, pulling his curtains and boxing himself in. A few simple wards later, he relaxed for the first time in days.

Eventually, the door opened, and chatter could be heard entering the room.

“Honestly, what was he thinking?” came the familiar, cheerful voice of Benjamin Avery. It was then Harry realised his math. The room was a rectangle. The door was on a short side, with 3 beds either side opposite each other. Harry’s stuff had been on the bed behind the door. If there were 6 beds, then there was a good chance that Tom was Harry’s roommate.

As the people spread through the room, Harry peeked from behind a curtain. In the bed next to him was Avery, the bed next to that lay Alphard, who seemed to already be out for the night, his curtains drawn. Opposite his own bed was Nott, next to that was Lestrange, and next to that (as far as he could have been from Harry) was Riddle. He sat up-right against the headboard, reading a book.

How fucking pretentious.

Chapter Text

It had been two weeks since Harry first arrived at this ancient Hogwarts. He had succeeded in avoiding Tom, and all the other boys from the train ride. He swiftly realised that he didn’t know as much about Tom as he thought. He knew his political goals, and he knew about his horcrux business, but he didn’t know the day-to-day Tom that he needed to understand.

By keeping a safe distance from Tom, standing and leaving whenever Tom sat down, going into his bed early and pulling the curtains, or going in late and not responding to any conversation attempts. Harry was able to start to understand Tom.

Firstly, this version of Tom had horrible anger control. The Voldemort that Harry knew also struggled with it, but this Tom had to hide his urges. Harry would see the eye twitch, or the clenched fist, even if it was only for a split second.

Secondly, this Tom was more classical than Voldemort. He played piano in the empty common room, he would respect the traditional holiday mention, and overall understood the traditions, even if he wasn’t raised with the knowledge like his followers.

Onto the topic of his followers. Harry witnessed a meeting. He couldn’t sleep, so he went on a walk to the gamekeeper’s house. The current Gamekeeper was an old wizard. He shouted at the students when they didn’t walk on the gravel paths, and gave out detentions to those who walked anywhere near his small allotment. He was if Filch and Early-Years Snape were rolled into one. On his walk back to the common room, he pulled his cloak and map, checking the common room. It appeared empty. So he put his cloak back in its pouch, and gave the password.

He walked into the common room and saw everyone huddled in the seats. Abraxas, Mulciber, Lestrange, Nott, Avery and both of the Black heirs. They were all sitting in various armchairs and two seaters. Tom was sitting in his own armchair, one Harry had only ever seen Tom sit in. The silent conversation stopped and all eyes were drawn to him. He stood, looking unbothered in the doorway. The wards rippled away and Tom addressed him.

“Good evening Mr Peverell.” His velvet voice floated through the air to Harry.

“You know, technically, it's Lord Peverell.” Harry spoke, briefly lifting his hand and showcasing the signet ring in his index, the Peverell Crest glinting in the dim candlelight.

“Lord Peverell. My mistake. We shall all be going back up to the dorms soon enough. We apologise for using a public space for a private meeting.” Tom explained, the well practiced good-student mask sliding straight into place.

“Sure, whatever. Just hang a sign on the door next time, or a sock on the handle.” he mentioned, chuckling within himself at his small joke that surely went over Tom’s head. Another thing that he had noticed about Tom, was that he was a complete virgin, or at least acted abstinent. Willingly or not, he wasn’t sure.

“A sock?” Abraxas repeated, bewildered by his comment.

“Yeah, shows… the space is in use.” Harry explained, attempting to hide a smile at the clueless faces. Avery soon broke out into dramatic laughter, gripping his stomach. Harry ignored his reaction and walked straight through their huddled meeting, walking inches from Tom, who was stood at that point.

Tom seemed to appreciate his personal space. He hadn’t noticed this in Voldemort, but he wasn’t really sure anyone, but Bellatrix, wanted to be close to him. Through the entire train ride, Tom had been given personal space, even if everyone else on his side was given less than adequate sitting room.

He saw the eye twitch and the balled fist, both disappearing before Harry reached the doorway where he turned back to the meeting. “Don’t come in loudly later, or I'll hex you all.”

Tom forced a chuckle, “We shall remain respectful, though it is nice to see your sense of humor.”

Harry smiled along too, “Yeah, that- that wasn’t a fucking joke.” He then turned and promptly walked to the dorm room, disappearing to the bathroom and then to his bed, drawing the curtains.

A short while later, they all dribbled in, a few at a time. The last to arrive was Tom and Abraxas, mumbling about Malfoy’s family's plans for the Autumn Equinox. Abraxas went further down the corridor, to his own dorm which he shared with the Slytherin knobs and Mulciber.

Harry didn’t know much about the Pagan celebrations, but it seemed to be a rather large part of their lives here. He’d check to see if the library had any books explaining them.

Since he was at a slight disadvantage on this mission of stopping Voldemort, Harry decided to turn one of his notebooks into a heavily warded research book on Tom and his gang. His newest developments on them were as follows.

Abraxas Malfoy, a classic Malfoy. He was exactly the difference between Draco and Lucius, but if it were Lucius and Abraxas. He seemed to be Tom’s closest confidant, and his biggest kiss-ass. He was also one of the most bigoted of the group. They weren’t even a month into the year, and he had already made comments about muggles, muggle-born, women, and countless offhanded slurs sent to half-breeds. Harry had also heard rumors of him being engaged, but he hadn’t heard a name.

Alphard Black. He was much quieter than the rest. Not in an unsocial way, more in an uninterested way. He seemed kind of depressed, by Harry’s modern standards. He was smart, no doubt about that, but aside from seeing him with Tom, or at a study group, Alphard would normally be in his bed in the dorm, reading, doing word puzzles, and working.

Benjamin Avery. A shit-head, simply put. He seemed like a nice enough guy on the train, but in reality, he was a prick. He could say some of the most horrendous stuff without enticing he went wrong. He was a pure-blood-supremisist to his core. He was a chaser on the quidditch team, but he would be better suited as a beater with how violent he was, on and off the pitch. It was his birthday the other day, and as a gift, he and Lestrange got into a duel after hours, without their wands. So it was more just them, in their quidditch sweaters, rolling about the grass with each other while a couple of their friends watched.

Damien Nott. He seemed to be a bit of a wild card. He stayed by Lestrange’s side with everything he did. He seemed to talk, but would become silent whenever someone who wasn’t part of Tom’s gang walked in, Including Harry. He was also a chaser, and was surprisingly good at it too.

Corvus Lestrange. Violent. Violent and aggressive. He was a beater on the team, and he was also the Captain. He was also strangely protective of Nott, and didn’t mind being followed around. He and Avery would often speak about the horrendous topics without blinking an eye. The ‘Lestrange’ part was screaming and ringing all the bells in the town. He was also good at duelling. It wasn't neat, or predictable.

Nate Mulciber. He was the odd one out. He seemed polite and sweet. Harry couldn’t really understand how he got into Tom’s gang, but he somehow did. He would grimace at Lestrange and Avery’s conversations, helped anyone, despite blood status, and somehow, wasn’t ridiculed by the rest.

Orion Black. Harry hadn’t seen much of Orion since the train. He was a fourth year student, so they didn’t see each other much. They’d pass each other in the corridors, or in the common room, and Orion would give him a dirty look, but that was about it. Harry did work out that Orion was Sirius’s dad, not Alphard.

Tom Marvolo Riddle. Where to start. He was pretentious, he was snobbish, he was charming, he was fake, he was handsome, he was… he was handsome? When had Harry written that? It wasn’t not true, but… no. No! Gross. No. Tom was a prick, and a soon to be murderer. He was also secretive. He would sneak out after his prefect duties to the edge of the forbidden forest and come back like nothing happened. Harry only knew because he saw him on the map every week.

Early the next morning, like usual, Harry went to the dorm's ensuite bathroom, occupying one of the 2 shower cubicles. He liked the bathroom for the Slytherin. It had 2 of everything, and a towel warmer. As he was showering, the door opened and closed. Whoever it was ran the shower next to him. Who was it?

Isn’t that a bit gay? He wasn’t being homophobic, he saw nothing wrong with gay people, but Harry found himself butt-naked, stood next to a butt-naked peer, separated by one wall and a shower curtain each. It was an unwritten rule they had established, if someone is in the shower cubicle, you wait; you certainly don’t join them.

He just hoped it wasn’t Tom.

Nobody woke up as early as Harry, by design. It meant he could get dressed for the day in peace and leave before any of the others woke up.

He decided to be done, grabbing the towel hung outside and turning his shower off. He wrapped the warm fabric around his waist securing it. He stepped out, catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He was a lot skinnier than he used to be, still adjusting to eating food not from cans or that he had to hunt himself. He had a few scars over his chest, his back, his arms and legs. He was partly self conscious of them, but since they were everywhere, and most were minor, he managed to ignore the larger ones.

His newest one was by far his favorite. It was from when he was killed. It started where he was struck above his left nipple, which took a small chunk out of his chest, leaving scar tissue. It then wrapped down and around, ending on the back of the right side of his ribcage. It was a gigantic, realistic, lightning strike, with multiple little off shoots across the main body. It was, by far, the coolest. It was so much better than his smaller version on his forehead.

At the sink, he grabbed his toothbrush and added some toothpaste to it.

As he began to brush his teeth, like he always did, the other shower turned off. A pale hand reached for the towel and the curtain was soon pulled back.

Tom stood, hair damp, water droplets on a perfectly chiseled chest and abdomen, his towel wrapped low on his hips, revealing half of his adonis belt. Of course he was perfectly built. Harry glanced at him through the mirror, still brushing his teeth, forcing himself to seem unbothered.

Because he was. He didn't care for the shirtless murderer behind him.

Tom stepped out, joining him at the sink next to his.

“Good morning, Peverell. How did you sleep?” Tom greets politely, preparing his own toothbrush.

“Fine. You?” Harry replied, not caring if it was muffled by the toothpaste. His voice was also lower than usual, which he hoped added the edge of superiority to the conversation.

“Not horribly. Are you prepared for the first Defencive Lesson of the Year?”

“Yeah.” Harry mumbled back. He did find it odd how they didn’t jump straight into the education, and the first 2 weeks were spent reintroducing and adjusting. There were a few lessons, like charms, and history. Mainly theory lessons. There were also a lot of clubs and opportunities, a lot like a fresher’s week in the muggle world. It made him wonder why they stopped doing it.

They then stood in silence as they both brushed their teeth. Harry kept his head down, looking into the sink bowl for most of his time, but noticed Tom would remain standing up straight, looking in the mirror. He would only bend to politely spit into the bowl. It pissed Harry off.

Tom soon finished, so Harry did too. Harry never really counted when brushing his teeth, but he guessed Tom did.

They both went back to the main room, where Alphard was awake, sitting in his bed in his pajamas still. He gave them both a curious look as they entered, half naked. Harry went straight to his bed, pulling his curtains and warding them, swearing at himself as soon as they were safe.

Tom would wake up at the same fucking time every morning. There is no way this was random.

He got dressed for the day, throwing on his uniform, tie and jumper. He pulled his robes on, leaving his blazer hung up in his closet. He left his top button undone, and his tie untied for now, merely resting on his shoulders.

He pulled his curtains back, Alphard now absent, Damien sat on the side of his bed, Avery and Lestrange still asleep, and Tom, knelt down, tying his shoes. Harry sits on the side of the bed, doing his own up and leaving with his bag.

His mind was reeling from Tom’s audacity to wake up to interrupt his morning routine. And why was he…

No, Harry. Think of the snake-face. There’s no way that they are the same person, right?

He walked over to the kitchens, tickling the pear for entry. Mopsy greeted him with a Jam Sandwich and an apple.

“There’s you go, Mr Harry.” she said, tucking the apple into the pocket of his robe. He sat on a small stool in the corner, unwrapping and eating the sandwich. The elves, specifically Mopsy, hated how thin Harry was, so have been making sure he eats. It also helps him avoid Tom. Sometimes, they let him help, like peeling vegetables, but rarely.

His lesson starts at 9:30, so he finishes, thanks them for the food, and leaves. The walk to the defence classroom is peaceful.

“Peverell. Peverell, wait up.” He hears the familiar French accent. He and Phillip had been close for the past few weeks. Not Ron and Hermione close, but not not talking.

“Hey. You have Defence too?”

“I’m pretty sure everyone does.”

“Really? Everyone in the year?”

“Most people picked it. It's one of the few lessons where we can actually do magic in a dueling sense. How was it when you were homeschooled?”

“Uh… F-fine. Boring… if anything.” Harry stuttered, forgetting that homeschooling was his chosen lie.

“Well, good luck with this. Merrythought is a bit of a… she’s a tough one.” Phillip said as they arrived at the classroom. Phillip opened the door for them, letting Harry walk in. Luckily, Tom’s group hadn’t arrived yet.

There were still a few people in the room. There was a Hufflepuff Prefect, a few other Ravenclaws, and a Gryffindor. He looked… a lot like Harry. Was it his… Grandad? Who was his Grandad? He remembered his family explained by Ron when they were bored once. Fleabon? Freeman?

“Monty!” called Phillip. The Gryffindor turned in their direction, realised who it was and jogged over with a smile.

“Phil. I’ve rarely seen you this year. How’ve you been?” he greets when he arrives, shaking Phillip’s hand. “Who’s this?”

“I’m good, I’m good. And this is Harrison Peverell.”

“Harry.” Harry added, growing to hate the ‘Harrison’ moniker.

“Harry. Well, nice to meet you, Harry. Fleamont Potter.” he greeted, shaking his hand, even though it wasn’t offered. “Say, you look similar to me. You aren’t some distant cousin I’ve not met yet, are you?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Hm. Food for thought, I guess. You’re the transfer?”

“Yep.”

“How are you finding Hogwarts?” He asked, raging with a confident excitement.

“It’s good.”

“Well that’s great- Riddle! How are you, Mate!” He looked just behind where Harry and Phillip were standing, towards the door.

Riddle and his gaggle of dickheads arrived, they walked to the other side of the classroom, Fleamont talking with Alphard.

He wasnt… his grandad wasnt… no. No way. His Father’s Father was not a fucking Death-Eater.

A lady pulled him from his thoughts, stood out the ledge. Dark purple robes with intricate details sewn in. She glared down at everyone and cleared her throat. “Good morning class.”

She walked down the short staircase, onto a stage at the front. “I shall remind you of my rules, then we can jump straight into a practical recap of last year. Sound good?”

Everyone formed a huddle. Harry’s roommates were, thankfully, standing on the other side to him.

“Firstly, my name is Professor Merrythought. Professor. Not Miss, Not Mrs, Not Ms, Not Mr. Professor! Secondly, when I ring the bell, all duels stop. Since you have all sat with your owls, I trust you are all mature enough to stop when I say. Thirdly, we do not duel to harm our opponent in class, we duel to better our understanding of ourselves. Do we all understand?”

“Yes professor.” Everyone chanted back.

“Very well then, Everyone pair off in twos and we shall recap. Mr Peverell, you can wait this lesson out if you’d rather. I haven't a clue how your physical dueling skill is.”

“I’d rather join in, if I can, Professor.” He said, somewhat missing the action that he had dealt with for months on end.

“Very well, go with Riddle. Riddle, don't push him too hard.” Tom nodded, taking his robe and blazer off. “Not to worry, Harrison. Tom is my best student, and he won't push you past where you can go.”

Harry nodded, but couldn't help but smile at the irony of dueling Tom. Fleamont had paired off with Alphard, Damien with Corvus, Avery with Phillip which confused him, but he guessed it was more to keep him under control than Phillip wanting to be paired with the brute. Everyone else in the class had paired off too.

Harry took his own robe off, tossing it to the side, along with his jumper and his tie. He also rolled his sleeves up. All the tables and chairs were cleared to the side, and Professor Merrythought announced that they would be taking turns, for 10 minute blocks where they would jump into the space and duel their partner. She stood up on the original ledge where the bell was sat. It looked like more of a gong, but who was Harry to tell her what to call it.

“Remember, you aren't trying to harm your opponent.” she announced for a final time before sounding the bell.

Fleamont and Alphard went first, their duel a mix of flamboyant flair and competitive ease. It was more playful teasing if anything.

Phillip and Avery went next. Harry’s guess was confirmed as Avery sent crafty hexes in Phillips direction, him easily dodging and disarming them.

Tom stepped in after, Harry hesitantly following. Even though she said Tom would go at Harry’s speed. He decided in that moment, he would let Tom pick the intensity.

“Fair duel.” She declared, ringing her bell.

Harry didn’t move; neither did Tom.

“Are you gonna make a move, Peverell?” He asked, wand raised and ready. He had the perfect textbook dueling stance. Of course he did.

“You lead the duel.” Harry bit out, standing straight, wand in hand, but his arms by his side.

Tom sent a disarming spell at him, which he easily blocked, sending his own back. Tom, the ever dramatic show off, jumped and rolled out the way. He couldn’t help but scoff at how performative it all was.

Before Tom had even stood up, he sent a knockback jinx at Harry, which hit him in the chest, sending him flipping backward. Somehow, he managed to land the backflip on his feet, wand still in hand.

Harry didn’t care what kind of reputation Tom had, it didn't mean anything to him. Harry lifted one of the desks by the wall, sending it hurdling at Tom.

Tom smashed it into splinters before it hit him, falling around him. He lifted the jagged pieces, sending them flying at Harry.

Flying at Harry just like how he did with the glass when they fought in the ministry. Right after Sirius was killed.

His thoughts were scattered now, and he was hardly thinking. He cast the defence shield spell in an instant. He wasn't fully aware where he was, who else was there, why they were fighting.

Only who was in front of him; Riddle.

As soon as the onslaught stopped, Harry pulled another desk from by the wall, jumping up onto it, and hitting Tom with a Stickfast Hex, stopping him from moving. The look of slight panic on Tom’s face didn’t fully register to Harry as he prepared his next move.

He threw a book from the desk at him, sending an Expulso Curse at the book, which promptly exploded, the force sending Tom flying a few feet into the wall behind him, pulling him from his shoes that were still stuck to the floor.

Harry ran at Tom, who was now a crumpled mess on the floor. Harry stood over him, kneeling down onto Tom’s wand arm, pinning it down with his knee, his free hand grabbing Tom’s and his wand pointed at Tom’s temple.

Harry was breathing heavily, his brain jumbled. He could distantly hear the bell ringing, but soon felt two arms under his own, pulling him off Tom’s panting and… smirking body.

Wait, smirking? Why was Tom happy? He just lost.

“Harry. Harry. Relax. The bell rang. It’s done.” He heard Phillip telling him and he pulled him behind the crowd of classmates. Tom’s gang surrounded him, helping him sit up and seeing if he was okay. But Tom’s eyes never left Harry’s, and Harry’s never left Tom’s.

“Harry. Are you there?” Phillip asked, turning him around. Harry was pulled back too.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine.”

“What was that?”

“What was what?”

“That. The duel. Nobody faces Riddle like that. How-”

“Very good, Very good, Boys.” Announced Merrythought, Her voice cutting through the commotion. “Incredible duel. Though I don't fully approve of the property destruction, it’s good to know you can both hold your own.” She walks down the stairs, disappearing the book pieces and the splinters of the desk with a wave of her wand.

Harry sat on a chair at the back with a glass of water for the lesson, as Tom stood back with his friends. Phillip went back up a few more times for a few more duels, even going up against Tom, who beat him with his A+ ease.

The lesson soon ended, Merrythought dismissing them with an essay for homework.

“All that due by next week, please. And don't be sloppy about it. Riddle, Peverell, stay after class.”

Harry couldn’t help but groan. Phillip handed him his robe and other uniform parts from where he threw them, saying both goodbye and good luck.

Tom stood by her desk as she spoke with him. From what Harry heard she was mostly checking if he was okay, and how much resistance he put into the fight.

“Riddle, free to go. Peverell.”

Tom nodded, thanking her and left, looking at Harry with an unreadable expression on his face as he passed.

“Yes Prof-”

“Who taught you?”

“W-What?” Harry stuttered out.

“Who taught you to duel like that?”

“No one. I guess I taught myself.”

He chuckled. “You are not self taught. I know that for a fact. You took Tom, my best student I have had in over a decade, the perfect form, the perfect logic, every spell is sent with expertise. You just toppled him in under 5 minutes. You don't fight with perfect form or logic. You fight with survival. So I’ll ask again. What fight taught you.”

“I- I can’t say.”

“I demand you do.”

“I really can't."

“Why not.” she persisted. He can't tell her. He can’t blow his cover less than a month in.

“Look, Professor, I really can’t tell you who, or why. But I can tell you there were a lot of different whos, all for the same person. And there were a lot of different battles.”

“Hmmm… fine. I shall accept that explanation… for now. Don’t smash anymore desks, or books. In fact, no dueling in lessons. I can’t risk you blacking out fully and trying to kill a peer. I will, however, offer you personal tutoring. The whole deal. Real dummies, real threats eventually. More than I would ever offer in class. If you are up for it.”

“I- I'll think about it.”

“Very well. No good seeing that talent go to waste. And just because Mr Riddle was the duelling partner, doesn’t mean you need to extend the fight beyond the classroom. Understand?”

“Yes, Professor.”

“Good. You’re dismissed.” she says with finality. Harry pulls his robe on and leaves the classroom, going back to the common room. He technically has a Magical Theory lesson right now, but he didn’t want to see his peers, or Tom, at the moment. He changed into his weekend clothes, which weren’t much better.

Hoodies and jeans seemed to be a time of the future, so he changed his school trousers into slightly more comfortable slacks, and his school shirt and jumper into another… shirt and jumper. He felt like a bit of a knob wearing it, but he couldn’t deny it was more fashionable than the clothes he used to wear.

He decided he would break into the broom cupboard and go for a little fly. He hadn’t flown in a year or so, and he missed it. The Bank’s Dragon didn’t count.

He grabbed his cloak, tucking it into his bag and headed for the pitch.

He pulled it over himself and grabbed the first broom he saw. They were all school brooms so they were going to be shit, and it was the 40’s so they were going to be even shittier.

He didn't mind really. On the training grounds, he tucked the cloak into his bag, pulling it over himself, and kicking off.

The broom sucked, but it did what he asked, and that's all he really needed. He flew far from the castle, not wanting to get caught, over to the black lake and the forest. He mostly did laps, but it helped him calm his head.

Why was Tom smirking whilst having a wand pointed directly at his head? Why did he wake up so early? Why did he make small talk while they were half naked? Why was he so… odd?

After about an hour, he flew back, secretly tucking the broom back into its spot and creeping back through the corridors to the Common Room.

“Mr Peverell?” called a familiar voice from behind him.

“Professor Dumbledore.” Harry responded, turning to face the man. He wasn’t as senile as Harry remembered, but he certainly wasn’t a young man either.

“Why aren’t you in class? From what I remember, you should be towards the end of your Magical Theory Lesson.” He said, checking his pocketwatch and tucking it back away.

“Uhh, Professor Merrythought told me to take the day off.”

“She did?”

“Yeah, she said that the duel I had was very… tiring, so I should rest.”

“Oh really? Then we shall go and ask her. Her classroom is near, and she shouldn’t have a class at this moment.” Dumbledore said, turning towards her classroom.

They walked in silence… Harry fiddled with his fingers, hoping she would cover for his lie. They arrived. They soon arrived at her classroom, and Dumbledore knocked, not waiting for a reply before entering.

“Professor. I hope you don't mind, but I just found Mr Peverell wandering the corridors when he is supposed to be in class. He claimed you allowed him the rest of the day off. Is this true?”

“I did, Albus. He had a very strenuous lesson, and he needed a break.” she said fluently, sat at her desk, marking papers. Harry visibly relaxed, being behind Dumbledore and out of his sight.

“Hmm, very well, if you insist. Apologies.”

Albus soon closed the door, turning to Harry.

“My apologies, but for future note, don’t loiter. It makes one look suspicious.” He said in his usual tone of false-wisdom, and left.

Was he that much of a prick to everyone?

Harry walked back to the Common Room, which was not a little fuller, since it was now the lunch break. Tom was sitting in his armchair, a small bandage placed on his cheekbone as he read a book. Abraxas sat opposite him, playing Alphard in a game of chess, and seemed to be losing.

Avery, Lestrange and Nott were nowhere to be seen, and Nate was studying with a girl, who seemed to be the same girl from when he was on the carriage to the castle.

“Love, you’re good at this sort of stuff, come see what I’m missing.” Abraxas called out, still fixed on the board.

“That’s against the rules of chess.” Tom noted, eyes not leaving his book.

“Let him, Tom. He really does need help.” Alphard mentioned with a chuckle.

The girl stood up, walking gracefully over, assessing the board and pointing for his next few moves. She then sat back next to Nate, and kept writing.

She’s who he’is engaged to?

“You okay, Peverell? You’ve been standing there for a moment. Forget how to walk?” Alphard
spoke, after securing a checkmate.

“Fine.” Harry said, walking past them all and into the common room. He sat up in his bed, and since he was alone, left his curtains open. He decided to get started on his Defence essay, as he didn’t have Hermione to copy from right before it is collected, with a quill that hardly works.

The door opened a few moments later, Tom walking in.

“How did you do it?” He said as soon as the door clicked shut, his demeanor was different from what it had always been.

“Do what?”

“I told Merrythought I let you win. I didn't. How did you defeat me?” he asked, his tone irritated and cold.

“I just… did.”

“No, you didn't. Nobody ‘just defeats me’.” Tom pressured, moving closer.

“Because you’re sloppy?”

“I am not sloppy. I fight perfectly. I have studied technique for hours on end, practiced for-”

“Because real fights aren't perfect, Riddle. ‘Technique’ is another word for being shit. In a real fight, it doesn’t matter if you can roll out of the way, it matters if you can hit them harder then they hit you. And I see that in your dueling. You duel safely. You duel like you’ve never been threatened in your life.”

“And you have, have you?” Tom scoffed.

“Yeah, actually. I have. So I have more fucking authority on this then you ever will!” Harry shouted, throwing his workbook to the bed space beside him

Tom smirked again. It was a smirk that made Harry wanna smash his face in.

He took his robe and blazer off, taking his wand out. “Teach me.”

“What?”

“Teach me how to duel for survival.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t- I don’t teach.” Harry said, thinking of everything that happened in his fifth year, what teaching led to.

“Why don’t you?”

“Because I don't! Okay!?”

Tom scoffed, sitting down on the edge of Harry’s bed. “You really are an enigma, Peverell.”

“Why?” Harry asked, slightly disgusted by his tone.

“You turn up out of nowhere, we hardly see you, you thrash me at a duel, you seem to never eat, and you are always grumpy.”

“I’m the enigma? What about you!? You host freaky meetings in the Common Room, all your mates seem to brown nose you so severely, they are basically licking your arse when they talk, you have the respect of every student in the school, yet I’ve never seen you do anything to deserve it, and you creep off to the edge of the forest constantly!”

“B-Brown what? They… They what?” Tom stutters, blushing. He was actually blushing, his eyes wide.

“Means they respect you so much. They suck up to you. Their nose is basically up your-”

“I understand! I understand now. I truly cannot follow your dialect, Peverell, it intrigues me.”

“Hm.” Harry responded, still spiraling from how embarrassed Tom got.

“But very well, I shall explain myself in the hopes you do the same. The meetings are just me talking with my friends, we play card games, talk about worries, problems, anything on our minds. I get respect from what I have done in the previous years, and what I can do when it is needed, and… what was the last thing?”

“Sneaking out to the forest.” Harry said, knowing those explanations were lies.

“Ah, yes. I am merely checking something.”

“‘Checking something’, how descriptive.”

“It’s very… needs-to-know. I’m sure you understand.” Tom explains, coating on his charm.

“Hm. Sure.” Harry said, picking his essay back up and looking down to it, clearly finished with the conversation.

“I shall return to the common room.” He says, putting his robe on his bed, but pulling his blazer back on. He pauses at the door. “Please do consider tutoring me on this.”

Then he left.

Chapter Text

It was cold… and early… and Harry didn't want to be there. He was currently sitting in the stands on the quidditch pitch, watching a pathetic friendly between Ravenclaw and Slytherin.

Tom insisted he join them, as he felt Harry didn't socialise with his dorm mates enough.

Luckily, Phillip was there showing his house support, so Harry sat with him. It saved him from having to spend the morning with Tom, and it saved him from having to cheer for Slytherin; which just felt wrong to do.

He was subtly realising how bad the view was from the stands. He had always felt deeply scrutinised while he played, but the crowd really couldn't see much. And this was in clear weather.

About 20 minutes into the game, one of the Ravenclaw beaters sent a stray bludger in the direction of the Slytherin Seeker.

It contacted with his head, sending him flying off his broom and crashing to the grass below.

The whistle was immediately sounded, and everyone flew to the ground.

As most of the two teams were checking on the injured player, Corvus felt his time was better spent trying to attack the Beater at fault. He was a scrawny little 4th year, who looked terrified and apologetic.

Tom soon made his way onto the pitch, attempting to calm Corvus down. They were all lucky that players weren't allowed their wands during a game, or it would have broken into a heated duel already.

Phillip also made his way onto the pitch, and Harry went with him.

“I’ll fucking kill you, you bitch!” Lestrange yelled.

“Corvus.” demanded Tom.

“Pathetic cheap shot like that!”

“Corvus.”

“You should feel fucking ashamed!”

“Corvus!” Tom was yelling now. He had taken over from Damien, who was desperately trying to push the enraged Captain back.

With one firm hand on his chest, and a wand pointed at his throat, Tom managed to push Lestrange to the other side of center pitch.

“Calm down! It's just a friendly match.”

The player in question had been lifted up by two of the players and helped off to the hospital wing. Most of the other players had migrated to the changing room, except Tom, Corvus, Damien, and Avery who was laughing at the whole affair, making no attempt to hide it.

Phillip was also consoling the Ravenclaw Beater, who looked like he was about to have a panic attack.

“He's up, he was walking. He'll be fine. I can't have you lashing out.” Tom explained with a shove. Corvus was glaring daggers at him, but seemed to be calmer now. Avery could be heard loudly proclaiming how entertaining that was.

“Avery! Shut it!” he shouted commandingly, pointing a finger in Avery’s direction.

“Sorry Tommy. But that was fucking hillar-”

“Off the pitch, Now!” shouted Tom, who seemed to be at the end of his patience.

“Piss off, Avery!” shouted Phillip from where he was on the pitch, almost at the same time as Tom.

Avery raised his hands placatingly, but still with the widest grin on his face. He grabbed his broom, gliding to the exit, his body shaking with his laughs.

Harry just stood a slight distance away, watching it all happen. It was too early in the morning for all this angst drama. He soon approached Phillip, who wasn't having much luck at calming the kid down.

“W-what if h-h-he doe-s-snt recover?” he stuttered between sobs.

“He will. You saw him walk off. He was fine.”

“It was just a concussion. I've seen worse accidents with less injuries.” Harry added.

“Exactly. It's not your fault, these things just happen. Go wash up, and we'll go check on him in the hospital wing, okay?”

He nodded and walked off the pitch, still sobbing. Corvus was still shouting, with both Nott and Riddle trying to calm him down. Phillip and Harry both simultaneously agreed to walk away at this point. Not their monkeys, not their circus.

By lunch, what had happened on the pitch was whole school news. The Ravenclaw had been given the day off, and the Seeker was still in the Hospital Wing.

Harry and Phillip did visit, but Harry stayed outside, as he didn't really know the guy, nor care enough. It seemed a pretty minor injury, and he walked off the pitch after.

He was more focused on what was happening that evening.

Lessons were almost all the way back to normal, and that meant only one thing. He had his first astronomy lesson this evening. And you may be thinking to yourself. Why is astronomy so important to Harry? He never cared for it before. Well that is because it was the only lesson where Tom wasn't there.

Harry was quick to realise that Tom Riddle took 14 subjects for his Newts. And almost all of them overlapped with his own, except Astronomy. Harry had never even considered Astronomy for his OWL’s, and he didn't know much past the second year curriculum, so he hoped it wasn’t too much of an intensive course.

Phillip would also be there, as they share this lesson too. Harry wouldn’t be totally alone. It was something he actually found himself struggling with; the loneliness. In Gryffindor, there was a real sense of community, and everyone was always there for everything.

Slytherins all shared a lone wolf mentality, it was suffocating. They socialized, and depended on each other, but were selfish. Everything they did had an ulterior motive. He had never really noticed it before.

Luckily he had Phillip. They had gotten a lot closer over the past few weeks. Phillip was a very sociable ‘bachelor’. And Harry says that as a polite way of saying that Phillip seemed to be a bit of a man-whore. And he didn’t deny it. They were hardly 3 weeks into the school year and Phillip had already found himself in the middle of sleeping with an entire friend group of girls.

And the calm way he reacted made Harry think it was a regular occurrence.

Harry also found himself skipping many meals. He would still eat, but not in The Great Hall. He never had the greatest relationship with food, and being on the run hadn’t helped. They didn’t seem to be affected by the war rations that were going on throughout the country, but even with excess food offered Harry never found himself hungry enough to eat a whole meal.

He’d visit the kitchen for an odd snack, or go to the hall at lunch early, before everyone would show up.

This was all mainly to avoid Riddle, who had been annoyingly persistent about the tutoring thing. Every time they found each other in a room together, Tom would ask at least once every 5 minutes. He couldn’t deny his enjoyment at the new power he held over Tom, even if it was somewhat superficial.

As the clock struck 9, Harry made his way to the tower. He was 30 minutes early still, but what else would he do? So he sat on the cold floor outside the classroom, watching the Marauders Map, stalking all of Tom’s friends and losing track of time.

A lady, about 5,2, walked up the stairs with a huff, muttering to herself before noticing Harry sat there. Her hair was dark, slightly greying, and pulled into an unstable attempt at a bun. She wore long, purple robes, covered in sequins and elaborate designs. A bit like Dumbledore used to, but she actually looked normal in them, whereas he just looked psychotic.

“Oh, sorry Priya. Didn't see you down there. Are you okay?” she asked in a soft, motherly tone.

“Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay.”

“Are you in my next class?”

“Yeah, think so.” Harry said awkwardly. He had never really been good at small talk or one on one interactions.

“Come in then. I’m Badeea Mortimer, but I insist my students call me Badeea.” she explained as she set up the form of the telescopes and attempted to organize her messy desk.

“I’m Harry. Harry Peverell.”

“The new student? How are you finding everything? Adjusting well?”

“The castle is lovely.” he said with a smile, sitting at a chair.

“But?” she pushed with a knowing grin on her face. Harry couldn’t help but smile kindly to her.

“But the students are a little annoying a lot of the time.”

“Hmm, I find they often are. If you ever need to get away, just come up here. I have to lock the door for safety, but I'm sure you know how to get around that.”

“Alohamora?”

“Exactly. Just welcome yourself if you need a get away.” she whispered as other students could be heard clambering the tall staircase to the classroom.

“Thank you, Professor.”

“Badeea.” she corrected.

“Badeea.” repeated Harry with a kind smile.

Astronomy just became his favourite lesson, and Badeea her favourite professor.

Phillip was one of the first students to arrive, sitting in a beanbag near Harry’s armchair. All of the seating in the classroom was casual. In fact to call it a classroom would be a lie, as it was more of a lounging space than anything else.

There was a pile of cushions and beanbags thrown to a corner, soft lighting surrounded the space. Diagrams, telescopes and other devices scattered about. It was still clearly the same room as it had always been, but it felt cosier, more homier.

Alphard also arrived, sitting in a low armchair and getting comfortable. His book was out on his lap, but he looked like he was going to be sleeping for the lesson instead, leaning back with his eyes closed.

“Gather round. Gather round, everyone.” announced Badeea once everyone had arrived. “Today, we will have a simple, easy lesson. Look at some constellations, annotate planets, things like that.”

She handed a few pieces of parchment out, as well as graphite pencils. On the large projector, various pictures of planets and star collections flicked through on a cycle, as she lounged on a bean-bag, sketching one of the planets.

Phillip was sketching a crude version of the solar system, mostly drawing different sized circles and shading most of the page in, purely to pass the time.

Alphard was sleeping, having drawn a large circle on his page with a few specks of stars dotted about as well.

Harry just sat, watching the slide show and observing the class.

“I know. It hardly counts as a subject.” Phillip eventually leaned over and whispered. “Personally, that’s why I take it.”

“Is this the whole lesson?”

“Yeah. Sometimes we all lay on the training ground and watch the stars for the hour.”

“Wow. That seems…”

“Easy?” Phillip guesses with a smirk. Harry nodded, deciding to give sketching the moon a go.

“Badeea also loves Astrology, so don’t tell her when your birthday is. She will blame everything on your, uh… your… ah merde… your zodiaque.”

“Really?”

“Oh yeah. If I’m late she will always reply with, ‘Classic Aqua- Aqua- Aquarous.’ I don’t know. The water one.”

Harry couldn’t help but chuckle a little at this. There were a few words in English that Phlillip could never pronounce, like ‘thorough’, or ‘rarely’. Phillip would often just give up and say the word in French, but Harry didn’t know French.

After the hour lesson was over, and Alphard was kicked awake, they all packed up and left in dribbles. The Ravenclaw Tower wasn’t far from the Astronomy Tower, but it was in the opposite direction to the Dungeons.

“I shall see you tomorrow for Appartition Class, correct?” Phillip asked before he left.

“Yeah, see you then.” Harry replied before walking towards the dungeon.

The castle felt a lot colder at night than it used to.

“Peverell.” called a voice.

“Huh?” Harry hummed, turning around to where the voice called from.

“You know, you should really say ‘Pardon’. It’s more polite.” Alphard explained as he sauntered over to him.

“But why?”

“Because it is improper to say ‘what’, or ‘huh’ as you so often do.”

“Maybe, but it really annoys you all when I do it.” Harry explained with a smirk. Harry had found that, without the chosen one label to live up to, he could be a lot more cocky and a lot more irritating. He wondered if that was how his father acted in school.

Alphard smirked. They walked in a comfortable silence for a while before Harry spoke up.

“So, what’s your deal?”

“My deal?”

“Yeah, like, I never talk to you. You seem to be really smart, but you’re quiet and you sleep a lot.”

“Perhaps.” He muttered.

“You’re a Black, right?” Harry asked, not wanting the conversation to dwindle. Alphard seemed the most sane out of the dorm, and could be Harry’s way into Tom’s inner circle if he chose to infiltrate.

“Sadly yes.” he admitted, somewhat resigned. It made Harry think for a moment that he hit a sore talking subject.

“So you’re a Pureblood?”

“Yes.”

“Well, purebloods are known for being crazy about marriage, so are you engaged to anyone?” Harry asked, curious whether his ‘Sirius’s father’- suspicions were correct or not.

“Me? No, not yet atleast. Abraxas is though. To Beatrice Nott, Damien’s older sister. All very arranged, but it isn’t the worst pairing I've encountered. At least they have some affection for each other.”

“What is?” Harry asked, slightly worried for the answer.

“Well, my cousin, Orion, is in a verbal engagement with my older sister.”

“What?” Harry all but shouted.

“Hm, you’re telling me. But ‘Toujours Pur’.” Alphard admitted with a sigh. Harry knew that Purebloods were often marrying their family, but he assumed it would be distant. That would make Sirius his own cousin, wouldn’t it?

“That’s disgusting.”

“Hm. What about you? Peverell. It was my understanding the Peverell Line was illegitimate. But you come along.”

“Illegitimate?” Harry asked.

“Well, it is hardly spoken of. Its purity is undefined, its lineage even more so. Some people even go as far to argue it is a fictional name, created purely for The Story of The Hallows.”

Harry chuckled, panic setting in. He didn’t know shit about the Peverells. “No, I can assure you I am very much… real? I don't know the right word.”

“And you said you were a Lord?”

“Yeah.” he answered, fiddling with the signet ring the bank gave him. It bore the elaborate family crest, which really just looked like a fancier version of the Hallows.

“Impressive.” Alphard mused as they reached the common room entrance. He muttered the password and the door formed from the stones. It is close to its original state behind them.

Inside the common room was filled with the commotion of younger students who were all engaging in their own activities and conversations. They both passed through the chaos and walked down the corridor to their room.

They opened the door to reveal Corvus, who was rapidly pacing the length of the dorm, ranting to Tom, who was sitting against his headboard, re-reading one of his essays, and making corrections.

Nott sat on his own bed, waxing the length of his broom and listening to Lestrange silently. Avery was sitting on his bed, throwing a crumpled up ball of paper into the air, against the wall and occasionally to Corvus, who would pelt it back.

“It’s a fucking disgrace, Tom!” He yelled, almost growling from rage.

“You’ve said.”

“It was a minor fucking injury. I’ve had worse and played on! And they have the nerve to stop him for the year because of it!”

“They said he can’t risk another injury.” Tom murmured, his quill scratching against the parchment which was leaning against his thigh.

“They said, they were tanking his career and taking our chance of winning the cup with it!”

Alphard walked in like normal, collapsing onto his bed with an exhausted sigh.

“Productive lesson, Alphard?" Tom asked, looking up briefly from his assignment.

“Nope.” He muttered back, face pressed into his mattress.

“So like usu-”

“Riddle! Don’t fucking ignore me! I have no Seeker, and the first game of the year is on the third of October, and in case you aren’t keeping track, which I certainly am! That’s in less than 2 fucking weeks!” Lestrange shouted, looking like he was going to punch the next thing he saw.

“Corvus, I suggest you relax. Just promote the player from the reserve team.” Tom offered, which only seemed to make this tantrum worse.

“We don’t have a fucking reserve team! I run the tightest ship! If you can’t play a game, or you miss a training, then you’re off the fucking team! We don’t have reserves!” he yelled, punching the solid wood frame of his bed shaking his hand off after.

Harry walked in slowly, making the short distance to his bed. He was moving slowly and quietly in hopes it would make him invisible.

“Hey Harry. Catch!” shouted Benji in his usual irritatingly-joyful tone, insensitive to the chaos in front of him. He threw the paper ball at Harry, who had his back turned.

Harry managed to spin around and catch the ball before it hit him, falling back onto his bed.

“Well it’s your own fault then isn’t it-” Tom declared, being cut off by Lestrange shushing him. He was glaring right at Harry, who tossed the paper back to Avery.

There was a brief silence over the dorm, where everyone stopped what they were doing to look at Harry.

“What?” Harry asked, grabbing his pajamas and going into the bathroom. As soon as the door closed, he could hear even more chaos erupt in the room next door.

“Corv? D’you see that?” Avery asked bewildered.

“That was…”

“Riddle. I want him on the team. Make it happen.”

“Just ask him-” Tom began with a sigh.

“No, you said you’d help me sort it. So get Peverell on a broom.”

“We don’t even know if he-” Tom began, being cut off again by Harry’s re-entrance to the room. He ignored all their looks, except Alphard, who had drawn his curtains already. At his own bed, he flicked his wand, closing all the curtains, before climbing into his bed.

“We don’t even know if he can fly.” Riddle continued in a more hushed tone.

“I don’t care!” Corvus stressed, and his bedframe could be heard creaking as he either punched it again or sat down.

“I shall talk to him, but I cannot guarantee he will agree to anything.”

Harry rolled his eyes and turned under the covers.

It would be nice to be flying again, and he did miss actually playing quidditch. But did he really want to join Lestrange, Avery and Nott? And he would have to wear Slytherin greens. More green than his current robes.

He supposed the green wouldn't be too bad. After all, he had an undefined amount of time here, but by the current speed, it wouldn’t be quick. He might as well pick up a hobby.

And if Tom is the one to recruit him, he could force a favour from him.

The morning soon ticked by, Harry waking at his usual early hour, heading to the shower, and Riddle joining him a few minutes later.

They would do this almost every morning, showering in silence, brushing their teeth in silence and heading back to the dorm. It was weird but wasn’t terrible.

They showered as usual, Harry stepping out first with the towel wrapped about his waist, and Tom doing the same.

“Peverell?”

“What?” Harry grumbled, already annoyed at the early interaction.

“As I'm sure you gathered by Corvus’ display last night, that since yesterday’s match, our house’s team is missing their Seeker. As a Prefect, and a friend, I offered to help them out. Corvus has demanded I speak to you about trying out for their team.”

“Why?”

“They were quite impressed with your reaction to Avery’s antics, yesterday.”

“So?”

“So what do you say to trying out for the position?”

“What’s in it for me?” Harry asked, finishing brushing his teeth and turning to face Tom, crossing his arms and spelling his hair dry.

Tom chuckled, “Bartering. You are a smart one, I’ll give you that. What would you like in return?”

“A favour.” Harry declared, heart racing as Tom fell right into his trap.

“A favour? How ambiguous.”

“Yeah. A favour I can call at any time I want, for any thing I want.”

“Hmm. I suppose that is a fair trade.” Tom pondered, eventually holding his free hand out, his other running his toothbrush under the tap.

“Deal.”

They shook hands, which was probably the first physical contact they ever had, excluding the duel where Harry half-attempted to kill Tom.

“You really are a puzzle, Peverell.” Tom repeated, heading back into the common room where Corvus, now awake, was glaring daggers at Harry.

“He said he will try out.” Tom announced to the brute, who quickly turned and walked over to Harry.

“Today, 4 o’clock. The Quidditch Pitch. Don't be late.”

“Fine.” Harry said, slightly scared of the intensity behind his eyes.

Time pushed forward, till it was 3:55, and Harry found himself walking to the pitch.

He could see Corvus, Benjamin and Damien already flying about, with Tom, Alphard and Phillp sat on the grass doing various pieces of coursework.

“You’re late!” Yelled Lestrange as Harry arrived.

“No, I'm early. You said 4.”

“4 means 3:45, mate.” Shouted Avery with a laugh, tossing the quaffle back and forth with Nott.

“So, you’re late.”

“Give him a break, Lestrange. It’s his first practice.” Phillip called back, who was laying in the sun, propped up on his elbows with a cigarette between his lips.

“Fine. Grab a broom and get up here.”

Harry sighed, pulling his robe, jumper and tie off, grabbing the neatest looking broom from the trolley that they had pulled out and joining them in the sky.

“Okay. You ever played Quidditch before?”

“Once or Twice.” Harry lied.

“What position?”

“Seeker.”

“Brilliant,” Corvus said, though his tone didn't reflect any excitement. “So you shouldn’t fuck this up.”

“What’s the-”

“I’m going to shoot these at you,” he explained, producing golf ball sized spheres from a pouch on his hip. “You’re going to fly to catch them, like they are the snitch. Just drop it when you’ve caught it.”

“Then me and you are going to play Chase.” Avery said with a sadistic smirk.

“Exactly. Understood?”

“Yeah, sure.” Harry sighed. There was no comfort, no patience, just straight to the drills. They didn't even offer him a warm up.

Corvus then flew a slight distance away and sent the first one. With his wand in one hand and the balls in the other, he would blast them in various directions.

Harry took off, channeling all the skill he had in order to wrestle the terrible brooms as well as catching them. After about 20 of them, Corvus whistled for him to come back over.

“Not too bad.”

“Not too bad? I caught every single one!” Harry panted from exertion.

He just grunted in response. “Avery, your turn.”

“Hiya Harry. Chase is super super simple. You fly, I try to catch you. There are absolutely zero rules.” Avery explained excitedly and rapidly.

Harry just nodded, slightly too afraid to speak. This was either a great way to gain their respect, or an even greater way to fall off a broom and die.

“I’ll go easy on you, cause you are on a shitty little school broom, but not too easy. You get a 2 second head start.”

“GO!” shouted Corvus as he sent a snap-spark from his wand.

He took off in the opposite direction, toward the lake. He had no real plan, and he had no idea how long they would be flying for, but he was Harry James Potter for Merlin’s sake.

Avery was soon tailing behind him, cackling with laughter. Harry pulled a few evasive maneuvers to try and put some space between the two, but nothing seemed to work.

They circled around the pitch for a while, twisting and turning chaotically.

Eventually, Corvus sent another snap, telling them the game was over, and to come back. Harry decided to nose dive to the ground, pulling up just in time to come to a complete stop in front of where they were all now sat, watching. Avery came lower, but refused to land.

“Impressive.”

“So did I make the team?” Harry asked, ruffling his windrushed hair back into place.

“Maybe.” grunted Corvus, pulling all his belongings together.

“We’ll let you know when-” began Tom.

“No, I’m not being fucking dragged along for the favour that I am doing for you.”

“You don’t get to make-” Corvus shouted, enraged.

“Tell me now, or I’m gone.”

“Fine!” he yelled louder, whistling for Avery to get down. He huddled over to Damien and Avery, whispering for a short while before turning back.

“You’re in.”

That was the worst decision so far.

One thing that Harry had never considered, or experienced, was Sport Hazing. He had heard of it, sure, and he knew Dudley would often haze the people who joined his Rugby club. But he himself had never been Hazed.

And it was awful.

It had started simple. They would tell him about false practices, or tell him ridiculous lies, most of which he didn’t fall for. But then it got worse. They would send wordless stinging hexes at him in the common room, or in the corridors.

They once threw a bucket of ice cold water over him as soon as he had woken up and pulled back his curtains. Everyone else on the team, and in the dorm turned a blind eye to the harassment, but Harry wasn’t just going to sit back and take it.

“Riddle.”

“Yes Harrison?” Tom replied. They were in the common room, after Harry refused to attend a practice.

“Don’t fucking ‘Yes Harrison’ me. Your little goons have been harassing me all week! I do you and them a favour and they haze me!”

“I have no idea-”

“Don’t act oblivious! We are in the same fucking room when it happens!” Harry shouted, wanting to hit Tom more than ever.

“Well, have you spoken to them about it?”

“No, ‘cause you will.”

“Why would I help you with this? You have shown nothing but hostility to me.” Tom asked, closing his book and looking up at Harry.

“Because if you don't have a word with them, I will. And it wont be fucking gentle.”

“Fine. I shall speak with them.”

“Good.”

“But you can’t expect miracles.”

“Uh huh, whatever. Just get them to fuck off.”

They, in fact, did not fuck off.

It only got worse. Harry had to put diagnostic charms on everything he was about to touch in case they had rigged it with a curse.

Tom had also been avoiding Harry like the plague, which was odd, because that was normally Harry’s thing. Unfortunately for Tom, Harry had the Marauder’s Map, and managed to hunt him down while he was on his prefect rounds one night.

“Riddle! You cunt!” Harry yelled and he stormed to where Tom was standing.

“Harrison, I must ask you to lower your voice, it’s-” he explained in his usual smug tone. Harry cut him off with a firm right hook to the face. Tom’s head snapped to the side, and his hand came up to gently touch his cheekbone.

He pulled it back to reveal a spec of blood on his finger tip, his expression flabbergasted.

“You said you’d talk with them.”

“I did.” he countered through gritted teeth.

“Yeah, and they just cursed me to throw up blood for the last fucking hour. So it has gone past harassment, and I will be cursing them to hell and back tomorrow afternoon.”

“I can have another talk with-”

“No! They are your loyal fucking servants, listening to your every beck and call. If you wanted them to stop, they’d have stopped.”

“Well, what’s in it for me?”

“What’s in it for you? Let me think. I don't murder our dorm mates, how about that?”

“If you mentor me, I’ll force them to stop.”

Harry paused, confused. “That’s not how this is working, Riddle. You don’t get to ask for a favour.”

“Well. I guess then I can only tell you that I have had a word with them, and if they are contin-”

“Fine! But I want you to invite me to your weird, creepy meetings.”

“My meetings? If they are so weird and creepy, why would you like to attend?”

“Because I want to. If you get them to stop tormenting me, and invite me to the meetings, then I will tutor you in duelling.”

“Hmm. I’ll get them to spot, but I want a lesson before the next meeting.”

“When’s the-”

“The 10th of October. We meet every New Moon.”

“Oh, well… fine. But you need to do your own research into what you want to learn.”

“I can do that.” Tom agreed slowly. “How do I know if you know how to do what I’d like to learn?”

“I don’t know, assume I know. Not my problem, just make a list.”

“Shall do.”

“Good. But if they haze me one more time, then I'm cursing them, and you. And especially you.”

“Very well. Peverell, you mentioned something about throwing up blood, do you need to visit the healer?” Tom offered.

“I’m fine. Just sort them out.”

And with that, Harry turned and left back to the dorm. He was behind his curtains by the time he heard Tom return, no doubt after visiting the side of the forest.

Harry decided he was going to follow him one of the times, but he would save it for when he found himself really bored, or he really needed to know.

Chapter Text

The hazing did stop, and was replaced with dirty looks from the team instead. But they were easy to deal with because Harry didn’t care what people thought about him; or at least what they thought.

The first game of the year was on Saturday, and Corvus looked like he was about to murder somebody.

“I didn’t fucking ask you to do that manouver! Avery, are you retarded! Read the situation before zipping about like that! For Merlin's sake!” he shouted as they did their final session of training before the big game.

To be honest, most of Harry's training has been getting to understand the broom. Sadly, the first Hogsmeade Weekend isn't till the day after the game, and they weren't able to get special conditions. He was going to buy a broom as soon as he could, because the school’s brooms were arguably the worst thing he had ever flown, and he had rode a dragon, and a broom while being chased by a dragon.

“Peverell! Get your fucking head in the game!” Corvus shouted as he and the other beater practiced their swings.

“We aren’t playing a game!” Harry called back.

“Don’t get lippy with me, Sunshine. You’ll be off the team faster than I can throw you off your broom. Now go do drills with the Keeper.”

So he did. Corvus being the Captain was one of the worst things that Harry had ever experienced. It was as if Umbridge’s torture was merged with Oliver Wood’s insane passion for quidditch.

They were insane.

But eventually the training came to an end, thank Morgana. So they all packed everything together, and made their way back to the Common Room.

It was late in the evening at this point, since they only trained as the sun set, so the common room was blissfully quiet. Tom was sat in his arm chair, reading a leather-backed book

Abraxas sat, his arm around Beatrice who was reading her own book.

Alphard wasn’t around, so Harry assumed he would be in his bed in the dorm. Orion was sitting on the floor, writing in elegant script on a roll of parchment.

“Good Session?” asked Tom, not bothering to look up.

“No.” scowled Corvus, storming through the room to the dorm corridor. “We’re fucked.”

“No other team has been working as hard as you have, especially not Hufflepuff. You will be fine.” Tom reassured, turning the page.

“I don't care about who we play against. If we win thats great, but we need to fucking obliterate them. If they manage to make a single goal, then we’ve lost in my eyes.”

See? Insane.

“We know, you say it every game, Corv.” chuckled Abraxas, who was braiding Beatrice’s hair.

“Cause those are my rules. I'm goin’ for a shower.” He gruffed as Damien followed behind. Benji threw his brook down to the floor and flopped onto an empty loveseat with a groan.

“His rules are tighter than Dumbledick’s, and that’s saying something.”

“Are you going to sit, Peverell, or stand like decoration?” asked Tom, gesturing to the final couch in the area, close to his own armchair. Harry silently sat down, as far as he could from Tom.

“Good.” he said off-handedly, still reading yet a sly smirk had formed on his face. Harry grumbled silently, observing the common room for the first real time.

There were multiple sections where groups could sit and socialise and 3 large fireplaces to match. Everything was either mahogany, marble or dark green and detailed. There was a large, black grand piano in one of the sides that Harry had never seen anybody touch. Occasionally, people would place their books or bag on there for a moment, but nobody sat and played.

The room was dark, and only illuminated from the fireplaces, candles, and an eerie glow that Harry couldn’t figure out where it was coming from.

A large window sat on the wall opposite the entrance, but it only displayed a view into the great lake. Occasionally the shadow or a tentacle of the Giant Squid would pass by.

Tom stood up. “I shall retire for the night.” he announced before walking down the corridor to the dorm.

What a pretentious prick. Who says ‘retire’? And who would announce to people he’s off to bed since they weren’t even having a conversation. Nobody asked.

“Hmm. Good idea. My love?” Abraxas said, sitting up slightly. They both stood parting ways and going down their own respective corridors.

Harry would be fucked if he sayed alone in a room with Orion and Benjamin. So he stood to go to bed too.

“Off to bed?” asked Orion.

“Yeah?”

“Send Corv and Dame down here, yeah?” asked Benji. It was less of a request, and more of a command, but Harry nodded. He didn’t want to get into an argument about a simple task.

He dawdled down the corridor before reaching their dorm.

Inside, Alphard was already asleep, his curtains closed, which turned out to be a common find. Tom stood in front of his wardrobe, looking through it.

“Lestrange, Nott. Avery wants you in the common room. Don’t ask why, he didn’t say.”

The two boys sighed but pulled their slippers and Damien put his dressing robe on, leaving the room.

Harry turned to his bed, seeing a piece of folded parchment sitting on his pillow.

“It’s not cursed.” said Tom, watching him from his own bed.

“How am I supposed to know what you lot do?”

“No need to be snappy, Peverell. It is simply a list of things I wish for you to teach me. You can make note of what you can and can’t do.”

Harry scoffed, taking the note and reading the neat writing. Reductor Curse, Confringo, Flagrante Curse, Gemino Curse… Nothing too menaci-

“Tom, why does it say the Unforgivables and Fiendfyre on here? And what is the Transmogrifian Curse?” Harry asked, gripping the paper so hard his knuckles began to turn white.

“Knowledge is important, Harry. I can know about spells without ever needing to use them.”

“They’re illegal! And fiendfyre is impossible to control, no matter how powerful you think you are!”

Tom sighed loudly. “So you don't know how to do them?”

“No, I know. But I’m not fucking teaching them to you! What is the Transmogrifian Curse?” repeated Harry, frustrated by Tom nonchalance at being taught crimes.

“Just a torture curse. I wouldn’t ever use it, I’d just... have it.”

“NO! Merlin’s sake! I'm not teaching you the Dark Arts, Riddle!” Harry shouted, scrunching the paper into a ball and throwing it on the floor.

“Fine, but will you do everything else?”

“Fine. Tuesday.” Harry begrudgingly agreed. It was part of the deal that he needed his side to be fulfilled.

“This Tuesday? Tuesday 6th?”

“Yeah. Problem?” asked Harry, loving the superiority that he had over Tom.

“No, no problems.”

“Good.” Harry said, picking up the parchment and throwing it into his draw, taking his pajamas and going to the bathroom to change.

He had the game tomorrow, and then training with Merrythought on Sunday, training Tom Tuesday. Quidditch training Monday, Wednesdays and Fridays. He was going to be sore; probably dead by Christmas.

The next morning, Harry awoke to landing harshly on the floor, Corvus standing over him. “Wake the fuck up!”

“What the fuck!?” Harry shouted, sitting up. “Why am I on the floor?”

“Cause saying your name didn't work.” laughed Benji.

“So you shoved me off-”

“Are we here to have a merry conversation, or are we playing today?” Corvus asked, infuriated.

“The game isn’t till midday.”

“Yeah, so we have time for training.” Avery sighed.

“No. I don’t train on the day. It’s bad luck.”

“What do you mean, ‘no’?”

“I mean it's bad luck to train before a game. If something doesn’t go wrong during training, it will during the game. And if it goes wrong during training, then you’ll be injured for the game. And if it goes wrong during the game? Well, something always goes wrong during the game.” Harry explained like Wood had before every game they ever played, climbing back onto his bed.

“I swear to-” began Corvus, immediately being shut down by Damien grabbing his arm.

“Corv.”

“Fine, but if you fuck up, I’ll have your head impaled on my broom. Most Gryffindor logic I have ever fucking seen.”

“Whatever.” Harry sighed, rolling back over and pulling his curtains, and warding them again. There were a lot of odd things like that that Harry had noticed between the two. Damien would rarely say anything, yet Lestrange always understood. Same as Damien would always be able to calm him down. It was clear as day that Avery and Covus were mates, but Corvus and Damien had something different.

Harry couldn’t quite place it.

The door soon opened and slammed shut behind them, halving the dorm population. Tom could be heard shuffling about, and Alphard was lightly snoring away. Harry rolled over, his back to the room and fell back asleep.

At a more suitable 10:30, he woke up, slowly getting up and going showering. He was the only one left in the dorm at this point, so he took his time. The game started at 1, so he had to be in the changing room at 12:30, latest.

His quidditch robes weren’t as bad as he thought. Sure they were green as anything, but they did look cool. His sweater had been gifted to him that morning. Green and gray stripes. ‘PEVERELL’ written over the shoulders. It was a lot simpler than the red and yellow associated with the gryffindor uniform.

He pulled the uniform on, bringing the robe with him as he walked down to the changing rooms.

“There he fucking is!” Corvus shouted as Harry entered the tent.

“Thought the squid ate you on your way over.” Benji laughed.

“Here’s the broom, here's your leathers.” Corvus said, pointing to the broom on a bench and throwing gloves, arm guard and knee covers at Harry, who caught them.

Once everyone was ready, Harry stood next to the keeper on the walk out. He was a tall boy in the 7th year. He rarely spoke. Great conversation while they were waiting to go out on the pitch.

Eventually, their team was called so they all mounted their broom and set out. The stands were a lot calmer in this time. People had flags and were cheering, sure, but nothing as crazy as Harry was used to.

They all took their positions, flying off at the sound of the whistle. The Hufflepuff seeker was a small and nimble girl, who seemed to have all the energy in the world. She reminded him of Ginny a little.

Still, he was sure he would win. The snitch had flown far off, and was practically invisible, so he focused on not getting attacked while waiting for it to come back.

He didn’t realise just how aggressive the Slytherin Tea- his team were.

Damien may have been quiet, and Avery may have seemed all jokes, but while in a game, they worked as one aggressive shield, cohesively zooming from place to place. Possession was 70-30 to the Slytherins, 2 goals scored so far.

Corvus was almost psychotic, chasing the bludgers down to slam them into players. Harry had to dodge a few strays that he was sure weren’t actually strays. Luckily, he wasn’t the chosen one anymore, so he was sure his life wasn’t at risk during this game like it always had been. He was manifesting not going to the hospital wing after the game.

He saw in the corner of his eye, their Seeker shoot off towards her own goal set. So obviously he gave chase. She was fast, and on the school broom it was torture, but he could see the small golden sphere flittering about near the professor’s stand, so he sped off for it.

It moved just in time, forcing Harry to pull up rapidly. The broom didn’t like being pulled about the way he wanted, and became hard to steer. But that wouldn’t stop him.

The Snitch was fluttering about rapidly in the center of the pitch, prime Bludger location, so Harry avoided it. The younger seeker didn’t. She shot straight at it, flying past Harry so fast, he wobbled on his own broom.

He managed to lock eyes with Corvus who smirked and gave a nod. The next bludger he found was sent straight at her broom. It connected with a deafening snap. As the front of her broom shattered from the impact, she spiralled to the floor, being caught by a spell from the referee. She was now out of the game.

Harry had basically won. And the crowd knew it.

He shot after the snitch, catching it easily. It fit beautifully into his gloved palm.

Everyone made their way to the grass, a mix of defeat or excitement in the two teams.

After a time, they made their way back to the changing tent.

“That was fucking awesome.” shouted Avery as he pulled his uniform off.

“I was going to shout at you for not going for it and letting her, but then I realised.” said the keeper.

“Bravo, Peverell. Not too shabby.” muttered Corvus, putting a firm hand on Harry’s shoulder.

“Not too bad yourself.” chuckled Harry, hoping Lestrange wouldn’t take it as an actual attack of his skill.

Harry pulled his robes off, but left first, refusing to change and shower in the tent. Mainly because of all of his scars. People tend to ask questions, and he didn't want to try and explain (lie) them away to the entire team.

Back at the dorm, he showered all his sweat away and changed into some casual wear for the rest of the weekend.

“Well done.”

“Thank you, Riddle.” Harry said, pulling the jumper over his head. Tom had walked in and sat on his bed, pulling his book from the draw.

“Are you excited for the Hogsmeade trip tomorrow? First one of the year, It’ll be busy.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Everyone is going. You and I. Corvus, Damien and Benji. Nate, Abraxas, Bearice. Alphard and Orion. I also heard Phillip was going, told me during Prefect rounds.”

“Yeah, he told me he had a date in the tea shop.”

“Hmm.” Tom hummed in response, as he so usually did.

“Why are you going? Need to go shopping?” Harry asked, curiosity getting the better of him. He never really explored Hogsmeade, but he doubted there was a Borgin and Burke’s second location there.

“No, it is a tradition for us to grab butterbeers in The Hog’s Head.”

“Not The Three Broomsticks?” asked Harry, not really understanding why they would all go there. From what he had heard, The Hog’s Head was a bit of a shit-hole. They only met there in their fifth-year because The Broomsticks would be too obvious.

“No, The Broomsticks is always busy on the first weekend. I also prefer the drinks in The Hog’s Head. You’re welcome to join us.”

“Maybe. If I finish my shopping first.” Harry replied. He didn't want to go, but drinking butterbeers with a bunch of politically enraged, teenage Death Eaters wasn’t exactly a ‘Fun Sunday’. Then again, neither was shopping.

Tom went back to the common room after this, where a small party had been thrown together. He could hear them all cheering and talking. There was no doubt a bottle of firewhiskey involved.

Sunday morning came quickly. Everyone was excited, except for the first and second years, who didn’t really know what was going on. Harry packed a bag of his map, his cloak and some money, pulling his thickest clothes on. It was often cold by the early evening, and he doubted they would get back quickly.

He left with Phillip, who was walking with his current girlfriend and her friends. Tom and his friends were walking a short bit in front of them as they all made the walk to the village. Behind everyone was the group of third-years who were being led by a few of the professors.

“So what are you going to buy?”

“Uhh… A new broom, definitely. And some leathers. That's probably everything. And some broom wax.”

“Going to get anything just for you?” asked Phillip, his arm around the Hufflepuff Girl’s shoulders. Harry had lost track of names, so now he just went off the house they were in.

“Maybe. I don’t know. If I see anything I like.”

The buildings soon came into view. Tom’s group took the left to The Hog’s Head, and Harry took the right to Spintwitches Sporting Needs.

A lady came to greet him at the door, helping him find a good broom and some elaborate new leather guards. He got a few tins of broom wax and paid, having it all boxed and shrunk down to fit in his satchel.

He walked about the streets for a while, observing some changes that were made, but it had mostly stayed the same. Some of the shops had changed names, or had a minor renovation before his time, but nothing dramatic.

No shop truly piqued his interest for him to enter, so he just walked about, trying to avoid the gaggle of a dozen psychotic Slytherins who were wanting to get a drink.

By the time he had done three or four loops, he was bored and tired, and probably looked a bit odd to anyone who was paying attention.

It was only 4pm at this point, so he didn’t have much choice but to go to the Hog’s Head.

As he entered the dingy pub, he could see regular bar drunks sat about, and the large group of his housemates having a drink. In the corner.

“Peverell. Lovely of you to join us.” announced Tom, standing up and offering the chair next to his own. It was the only empty seat, so he had to take it. He sat between Tom and Alphard. Tom ordered him a butterbeer, and they all continued their conversations.

He sat there for another grueling hour, listening to their pureblood first world problems. They soon made their way back, continuing their complaining all the way back to the common room, where there was another game of chess awaiting.

As they walked back, he could hear Orion muttering to his cousin, pointing at the sky.

“Al, look.” he muttered, pointing up to where a large bird was circling them. Harry looked up as they all came to a stop to observe it.

“Is it just me, or is it getting closer?” asked Nate, slightly worried.

And it was. It was actually diving towards the group. Most jumped from its way, except Harry, Abraxas and Tom. The latter two had drawn their wands. It pulled up at the last second, and perched quite happily on Harry's shoulder.

It was an Augurey. His Augurey.

“Berodach?” Harry asked, as it looked at the others. He chirped, a noise that didn’t fit his sorrowful appearance. “Hey buddy.”

“Harry, you know the bird?” asked Tom.

“Yeah, he was a gift. He’s my pet.”

“You have a pet Augurey?” muttered Damien, pure intrigue in his eyes.

“Yeah, I guess.” Harry mumbled. As quick as he arrived, he took off, the force shoving Harry back slightly.

“Well, that’s new.” Benji chuckled to himself.

They all began to walk again, but Harry could feel Tom’s gaze glued to him as they walked.

Harry had his first tutoring session that night with Professor Merrythought, so he passed on more painful socialising, deciding to go to the dorm to change.

He then walked to the Defence classroom. It was empty when he arrived. All the lights were out, and Professor Merrythought was nowhere to be seen. Maybe he had gotten the date wrong?

Wouldn’t be out of the ordinary for him, he was quite forgetful. Harry was actually surprised how far he had survived so far without Hermione’s guidance.

He walked further into the empty room, pulling his jacket off and putting it over the back of the closest chair.

All of a sudden, a blast of pink shot past him, causing the desk beside him to be shattered into tiny splinters on the floor. His eyes immediately tracked to where it came from, his wand already in his hand.

His mind was already spiralling. Was it Tom? Or Corvus and the Quidditch Team? Couldn’t be, he never mentioned this to anyone. Maybe it was Merrythought, but he doubted she would sneak up on him like that. Who else could it have been.

Another pink blast came wheezing toward him, which he quickly dodged. He didn't have the time to think who it was, all he needed to do was not die.

So basically, what he seemed to be good at.

He still couldn't see where the attacks were coming from, since the room was dark, and the balcony ledge that ran around the walls was engulfed in shadows.

On the chance it was a peer or a professor, he couldn’t use any destructive or harming spells, so he decided to fall back onto his favourite spell.

He pointed his wand to the shadows and shouted, “Expelliarmus!”

There was a slight grunt and then footsteps running. He could see a figure in the darkness.

“Lumos Maxima!” he shouted, pointing his wand to where the chandeliers hung empty. Professor Merrythought stood, leaning against the banisters, a grin like the Cheshire cat on her face.

“Bravo, Mr Peverell. Not many students would have lit the room up. Surprising I know.” She spoke as she walked down the steps.

Harry didn’t say anything. He was speechless. He wanted to shout at her, and hex her halfway to hell for attacking him like that. But he couldn’t.

“Sorry for sneaking up on you like that, but I wanted to know what you’d do.”

“Well that hardly seems fair.” he protested to no avail.

She sat on a desk, and offered him to sit opposite her, which he accepted.

They sat and talked for the lesson. That was all. She kept pushing to find out more about him, and why he was so reactive, but he either gave a vague response or outright ignored the question. They set limits on what she would or could teach him without it becoming a safeguarding issue. He wouldn’t lie, but it did surprise him that there were safeguarding rules in this era, considering a student was killed last time and the real culprit was never caught leading to multiple mass genocides and two wars.

Soon they left. She handed him a list of all the things they had just talked about, asking him to pick what he felt he needed or just wanted to learn.

Back in the common room, Harry entered under the disguise of his cloak, given the time. As he approached the hidden doorway, he could hear faint classical music playing. He secretly entered, to see Riddle sat at the frequently untouched piano, playing a song. He seemed to be in a world of his own.

The common room was empty and dark aside from gentle cable lighting. He took a seat in an armchair out of Tom’s view and pulled his cloak off, placing it on his lap and folding it in such a way it wasn’t visible.

Riddle was actually really good at piano. Harry had never known, he had never even thought of the possibility. It’s not like Voldemort would be holding a concert at any point.

After a while of watching Riddle play, Harry cleared his throat.

Tom seemed to jump out of his skin, his hand flying to his chest. “Peverell! When- When did you get here?”

“Couple minutes ago.”

“And you just sat in silence?”

“Well, yeah, I didn't want to disrupt you.” Harry explained, a smirk on his face.

“Where were you? Curfew was an hour ago.”

“I was… busy. I have a note from Merrythought.”

“Merrythought? Why were you with her?”

“Just… Doesn’t matter.”

“Hmm.” Tom hummed in response, his eyes clearly judging Harry. He couldn’t lie, he loved to rile Tom up like this. It was one of the few joys he found.

“Well, I am off to bed, and I assume you will join me.”

“Join you in your bed?” Harry asked in a mocking tone. It was either a spirit possessing him or the late night and sleep deprivation, but it was only by Riddle’s flustered reaction did Harry realize what he asked.

But the boy blushed. Tom Riddle actually blushed. He instantly looked away.

“You know what I meant.” He said, his voice attempting to be firm, but Harry could hear the quiver underneath. He stood and swiftly walked to the corridor leading to the dorm. Harry followed after him, trying to act cool.

He had no idea why he asked that, but Riddle’s reaction was everything.

He was already in the bathroom when Harry entered. He could faintly hear the shower running. He decided to just get straight into bed, since he was obviously delirious or something.

Tutoring was going to be weird.

Luckily, they hardly saw each other Monday or Tuesday, so the comment had time to settle by the evening.

“So what do you want to learn?” asked Harry, sitting on a transfigured wooden crate out on the training field.

“Did you forget the list?”

“No, I have it, but I was wondering what you wanted to do first.”

“Isn’t that up to you, teach?”

“Don’t call me that. We can just go over something you already know for now.” he stood and walked closer.

“Hardly seems useful, but fine.”

“What have you already learnt? Something quiet, considering it's 8 o’clock at night.”

“Stupefy? Do you know that?” Tom asked, his tone as patronising as possible.

“Of course I know that.” Harry scoffed. If Tom was going to belittle him, he might just have to hex the snob.

Tom conjured the wooden dueling dummies wordlessly, which startled Harry as they just appeared.

They both took position, and Tom shot first.

“You're too rigid.”

“No, I'm not. I'm displaying perfect technique.” Tom argued back, becoming enraged at the insult.

“Fine, do that again.” Harry demanded with a knowing smirk.

So he did, hitting the dummy with a strong spell, but as the lights left his wand, Harry shot a soft blasting charm to the floor between them, causing Tom's rigid stance to topple over, catching himself by his hands.

“What was that for!?” he shouted as he stood.

“You're too rigid. Say that was a real battle scenario, and your casting, then an explosion knocks you over. Now you're dead.”

“No, I'm not!”

“Yes you are Riddle! You would be dead!”

“Fine. How would I not fall over?” he asked, sounding beyond annoyed. Does he forget that he was the one who asked for help?

“Stand with your knees bent slightly, weight mixed between them, keep both arms available, and if you feel your weight shifting further than you can hold it, learn to roll with it.” Harry explained, demonstrating everything but the roll.

“Roll? On the floor? It rained earlier, and the mud is still wet.”

“On a real battlefield, there is probably mud, blood, and rainwater. Learn to deal with it.”

“I’m not rolling in the mud.”

“Then have fun dying.” Harry said, turning his back. He vaguely remembered hearing that Tom was also afraid of death, he guessed more than Voldemort was. He never had been given a chance to challenge this, but these sessions would be a great chance.

If he needed to stop Tom from making a horcrux, then finding out why he was so afraid of death was certainly a place to start, right?

“Don't you dare fucking threaten me with that!” Tom roared, his knuckles white with how hard he was gripping his wand. Harry spun around to face him.

“What? It’s the truth. You asked me here, I'm not gonna glitter coat it. You duel like a brick wall, but you have something a brick wall doesn't. A fucking life. And dueling like that, is carefree, and a good fucking way to end it.”

There was a second of silence, both boys glaring at each other.

“Fine.” Tom finally muttered, followed by a deep sigh. “Show me again.”

So Harry does. He slowly demonstrates the correct posture.

“And you do this for everything.”

“Everything?” Tom asked in exaggerated disbelief.

“Keep your weight even. Obviously.”

So they did. Both of them continued to tweak proper posture while doing some light and easy jinxes.

Eventually, Harry got to talking. “So, your meetings? What happens in them?”

“The meetings are… purely a chance for my friends and I to catch up on each other. Help with any issues we may be facing.”

“So, who goes?” Harry asked, already knowing the answer, but wondering if he was missing anyone.

“You and I. Ph- Alphard, and his cousin, Orion. Actually, basically everyone who came to the Hog's Head at the weekend.”

“Oh, is that it?”

“That's everyone who matters at least.” he said with a soft scoff.

What does that mean? Who ‘doesn't matter’ in his eyes?

Chapter Text

“And remember, follow the book to the letter. We don't want anymore explosions, isn't that right, Avery.” explained Slughorn with a chuckle.

They were sat in a darkened potions classroom, brewing the Draught of Living Death. Harry assumed Sughorn did the bet for Liquid Luck with every sixth year class, as it was basically the exact same stakes.

He didn’t have the half-blood’s book to guide him through. And Tom was speeding through the recipe with alarming efficiency.

There was only one thing he could do. He took his quill and closed his eyes. He drew the edited page to the best of his mediocre memory, begging it wouldn't blow up in his face. He had read that book cover to cover multiple times before Ginny threw it in the Room of Requirement, so he felt a little bit more confident.

He finally began, speeding through his recipe. Crushing the sopophorus bean, adding the necessary water, trying to use his muscle memory to finish it first.

He could feel Tom’s eyes on him as he worked, but he refused to look up to meet him.

The potion turned a lilac colour by step 9. The juice of 13 beans, not just 12.

He added water to dilute the mixture slightly before double checking every step.

After closing his book and tucking it into his satchel, he called Sughorn over.

“Mr Peverell? Believe you have executed it?” he asked, peering over the cauldron. He dropped a singular leaf into the potion, and they both watched as it fizzled away.

“Incredible. Deadly as ever. Perfect, Mr Peverell.” He pulled the vial off the display case, and pressed it into Harry’s hand. “I doubt I could have done a better job myself.”

“Thank you, Professor.” he said with a grateful smirk, pocketing the small vial.

This was good.

He looked up for the first time of the lesson, his eyes meeting with Tom’s icy glare. The only thing that tore them away from each other’s eyes was a large explosion and familiar cackling from the other side of the classroom.

“Avery! Not again!” Cried the professor, waddling over to the mess that was still burning through the table and into the cobblestone floor.

Tom only rolled his eyes and continued his potion, not wanting to quit yet.

“Riddle,” hissed Harry quietly. “Use 13 beans, not 12.”

“Shut it, Peverell. The instructions clearly say 12.” he hissed back, clearly frustrated.

“Use 13. And crush them, don’t cut.”

“But the-”

“Just do it.” Harry cut him off.

He growled lowly, but grabbed another bean and crushed it with his blade.

Harry didn’t want to help him, in fact Tom’s confused annoyance was more amusing than it should have been, but he needed to be on his good side. He couldn’t have Tom hating him yet.

Time ticked by slowly as Harry read over the textbook, making some notes he remembered.

“And that’s the lesson everyone, please leave your… concoctions as they are, I shall dispose of them safely. Peverell, stay for a moment after.”

So he did. Tom gave him a glare as he and his friends left.

“Harrison, I hold a very exclusive dinner club every once in a while. It is called The Slug Club. It's for the brightest witches and wizards of the generation. I would feel honored if you attended.”

“Who else goes, professor?” he asked, knowing the answer already.

“A few people from your year, the year below and the one above.”

“Who would I know?”

“Tom Riddle, Benjamin Avery, Covus Lestrange, Damien Nott. Do you know Abraxas Malfoy, he also attends. Nathaniel Mulciber attended last year, but feels he no longer has time with his Head Boy duties.”

“When are meetings?”

“Mettings happen occasionally, but parties happen more frequently. A Christmas party on the 18th of December, we also host parties for the founders. The first one is on the 24th of October. It's Rowena Ravenclaw’s Birthday.”

“I'll think about it. Thank you, sir.”

And he left.

Would it be cool? Maybe. It would help him get respect from Tom’s group. It seemed that most of them were attending.

“How did you do that?”

“What?” he asked, turning around to face Tom.

“How did you brew it so fast, so… perfectly? Crush the beans, use 13 not 12?”

“I just know a few tricks.”

Tom didn’t respond. He only turned and walked away.

“You're welcome by the way.” Harry called out, to no response.

Tom was insufferable for the rest of the week. He and his cronies would avoid Harry in the common room or the dorm; more than usual. At dinners they would take turns giving him dirty looks from their usual position on the table. Harry made sure to sit at least 2 friend groups away at all times.

On Friday, however, he found himself almost alone in the common room. He hadn’t seen any of them since last period, and they hadn’t returned yet.

He almost jumped out of his skin when the common room door opened at 9pm as he was lounging on a couch. It was Beatrice. He almost turned back to his book.

“Sorry dear, didn’t mean to spook you there.” she said ever so gracefully. “Have you seen Abraxas?”

“N-no. Sorry.” he mumbled back.

“That's a shame. Mind if I join you?”

Harry kicked his legs down off the other side of the couch and allowed her to sit.

Now that they were less than a few feet away, Harry noticed how pretty she was. She had straight brown hair, tucked half into a tight, neat bun and the rest was tucked behind her ears. She was about the same height as him, with pale green eyes. She sat straight up right, shoulders back and her hands resting in her lap.

They sat in silence for a while, Harry’s textbook now forgotten in his lap, before he spoke up.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Well, that depends on what it is.”

“Wh- Well, it might be a few questions.”

She only nodded in response.

“Damien is your brother, right?”

“Yes, why?”

“Why is he so quiet?” he asked, just curious for more information.

“That’s just the way he has always been. He doesn’t seem to talk to anyone except Corvus and Benjamin.”

“Yeah, I think he’s only ever said about 5 words around me.”

“Hmm. You know, I do suspect he may be… how do I put it?... A Nancy-Boy.” she admitted in a low whisper, leaning over slightly.

“A what?”

“I fear… courtship and marriage simply are not on his preferred cards. That he may like someone more… alike to himself.”

“Are you saying he’s… gay?” Harry asked slowly, as if trying to find the words.

“Well, I have suspected for the last 2 years that he and the Lestrange boy are… more than just good friends.”

He could feel that his jaw was hanging open.

“But that is pure speculation, do not tell another what I have told you, okay?” she added quickly, sitting up as the door to the common room opened once more. It was Tom, followed by everyone else.

“Bee, my love. What are you doing?” asked Abraxas, throwing Harry the glare of the century.

“I was just having a pleasant conversation with Harrison, Dear. Nothing to worry about.” she said, standing and walking over to her fiancee.

Harry sat, trying to compose himself with the given information. Nott is gay?… Gay with Lestrange? How didn’t he realise it before?

He stood, turning to go to the dorm as they all entered, continuing their various conversations. He entered the dorm, sitting on his bed.

Before the door could click shut, a foot was jammed between it and the frame, before being pushed open and pushed closed once more.

It was Riddle.

“Peverell.”

“What?”

“I wanted to… apologise, for how I have behaved for the last few days.”

“I-” Harry stuttered. An apology was the last thing he was expecting.

“I was startled, during potions. How did you… How did you know what to do?”

“I had… a good teacher?” he half lied. Snape was a great potions master, but the bullying wasn’t so great.

“Hmm. Well, I hope my hostility hasn’t put you off from our tutoring agreement.”

“No. No, I’ll still help you out.”

“Very well. Well, we are having our ‘weird, creepy meetings’ downstairs if you would still like to join.”

“Oh, damn, is it the 10th already?”

“Yes, Peverell. Are you coming?” he asked with a stifled chuckle.

He stood, pulling a wool jumper over his school shirt and headed down to the common room.

The furniture had been moved to create almost an oval… it was more egg shaped, with Tom’s chair at the tip. That wasn’t narcissistic at all.

Tom gestured to the empty seat next Alphard on a two-seater sofa. Tom sat at his own chair, Abraxas one side and Alphard the other. Beatrice sat, leaning against Abraxas who had his arm around her. Next to her was Damien, Corvus, Benji and Orion. And Nate sat in an armchair between Orion and Harry.

Tom cast a protective ward around their space, like he had walked into that one time, and they began.

“So, how has everyone’s month been?” he asked, leaning back with a quill and a black leather bound notebook.

“Dull.” muttered Alphard almost to himself. Never-the-less, Tom wrote it down.

“Quidditch has been killer.” sighed Corvus.

“Why?”

“Training isn’t working. I don’t know why, but it was working fine for the first few weeks.” he glared in Harry’s direction. Merlin, he was an arse.

“Describe where it is going wrong.”

“Where do I start? There’s no communication, nobody is listening to each-”

The door was opened and a young blonde girl approached them.

“Druella, I've told you-” Tom began, standing up.

“Why won’t you let me join?” she asked, her voice accusatory.

“Because you’re-”

“Because what? I’m a girl? You let Beatrice be here!” she shouted back, cutting him off again.

“She is engaged to Abraxas.”

“Or because I’m too young? Orion’s here and he’s the same year as me!”

“He is Alphard’s cousin.”

“So what!? I’m Phillip’s sister!”

Tom froze, visibly tensing up. His voice was cold and calculated as he responded. “Phillip Rosier isn’t part of the meetings, he and I talk purely on a Prefect basis. Now I suggest you leave before I have to remove you.”

Harry could clearly see his hand in his robe pocket, resting on his wand.

She looked as if she was on the brink of tears, as she turned and slouched out.

Harry turned back to the now seated Riddle.

“What the fuck was that?”

“What was what?” he asked, almost confused.

“Why’d you kick her out? Why not let her join in?”

“Druella is nothing but a liability. If I let her join, then there will be no privacy to the private affairs we tend to here.”

“Liability?” he asked with a scoff.

“Yes. Liability, now shall we return to-”

“Fuck you, Riddle. You’re an arse. Deal’s off.” He declared as he stood, leaving the ward and the common room entirely, following after Druella.

He found her crying in a small alcove, a small distance from the common room entrance.

“Druella?”

“Who are you?” she asked between sobs.

“I’m Harry. Peverell.”

“Hi.”

“Are you okay?”

She shook her head. “He never lets me join.”

“Why?” he asked, sliding down the wall to sit next to her.

“Because he hates me.”

“I’m sure he doesn’t hate you. Why would he hate you?”

She shrugged, wiping her tears on her sleeve. Harry conjured a handkerchief and handed it to her.

“You’re Phillip’s sister?”

“Yeah.”

“He’s never mentioned having siblings.” Harry added, thinking aloud. He didn’t have siblings, but he was sure that they would talk about them. The Weasley's would always talk about theirs.

“He doesn’t really talk to me much.”

“Why not?”

“He’s too busy with his friends.”

“Who are his friends?”

“I’m not supposed to say.” she mumbled. It was throwing all the wrong signs to Harry but he tried to stay good hearted.

“You can tell me. I’ll keep it a secret.”

“Promise?” she asked, her crying had stopped.

“Promise.”

“He is friends with Tom, and the Knights.”

“Who are the Knights?”

“That’s what they call themselves. The meetings. They call themselves the Knights of Walpurgis. I don’t know why.”

“Is he one of them?” he asked, dreading the answer he already knew.

She nodded.

“Why- Why isn’t he at the meeting’s.”

“I’m not sure. He stopped at the start of the year. I saw them talking at the end of the Sorting Feast.”

He sighed quietly. He kept consoling her, before walking her back to the common room and to the corridor heading to the girl’s wing.

The common room was now empty and all the furniture was back in its regular place. He walked to the dorm and entered silently.

Alphard’s curtains were drawn, so were Tom’s. Corvus and Damien’s beds were empty and he could hear the showers running in the bathroom. Avery sat on his bed, writing an essay. He didn’t even look up at Harry as he entered and got onto his bed, pulling his curtains with a quick charm.

Not only was Phillip one of Tom’s friends, but he was ‘a knight’.

Was Phillip a double agent for Tom?

He knew that he used double agents in the future, with Pettigrew and Snape. So was it totally out of pocket to assume that he would do that now?

The next morning, he woke up first, leaving earlier than everyone and going straight to the only place he could think to go to.

He went to the Astronomy Tower.

He had only been there once before outside of lesson, and that was to ask about an assignment.

The tower was empty, yet familiar.

It hadn’t changed in the last 50 years from the current time and the time he was familiar with.

He sat in an arm chair that he had pulled up to the fence. It was chilly, but usual for early October. There was nothing much to do, so he let his thoughts run.

He must have been there for hours when the door opened.

“Youre up early, Priya.” She greeted, floating her own chair next to his.

“Sorry, Badeea. Just needed to get away for a moment.”

“That’s perfectly okay, dear. What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing… I just feel like a friend has lied to me.”

“Which friend?” she asked, conjuring a tray of tea and handing a cup to Harry.

“Phillip… and kind of Tom.”

“Rosier and Riddle? What did they do?”

“I feel like Tom has been using Phillip to find out about me.” he admitted, sipping his drink.

“Why?”

“I don’t really like Riddle. It’s… personal, but I don’t. And I recently found out that Phillip and Tom are rather close friends.”

“Ah, I understand. Well, I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about. There are countless people who aren’t friends with Tom Riddle. And even more who despise the boy. But that’s between you and me, yeah?” he said with a chuckle.

“I guess.”

“If you’re looking for a friend, I could introduce you to a lovely boy in my house.”

He smiled warmly. He had forgotten that she was the Hufflepuff Head of House.

“Who is it?”

“His name is Lyall. He’s one of the prefects. He for one, does not like Tom Riddle or any of the boy's friends. In fact, he talks to me about it frequently.”

“Lyall?”

“You may even share some classes.”

“Hm, maybe.”

“I’ll talk to him about it.”

“Thank you, Badeea.”

“Any time, dear.”

They sat in each other’s company for another hour, before she had to go do some Hufflepuff duties. Harry left too, opting to go for a walk to the owlery.

It was a disgusting place, full of straw, wood chips and owl shit. He had forgotten that Death gifted him an owl until Berodach showed up last week.

But he wasn't there. Countless different owls all resting and chirping softly, but not his Augurey.

He slowly walked to the outskirts of the forbidden forest, sitting on a log. He pulled the map from his pocket, and decided to do a little bit of people watching.

He could see Badeea in the Hufflepuff Common Room, Dumbledore in Dippet’s Office, Tom was still in the dorm, as well as the rest of his ‘Knights’...

He could see Phillip across the green. He was walking with someone named Gabriella. Harry hadn’t met her yet, so he assumed it was Phillip’s latest conquest.

He was searching for one name in particular…

Lyall…

There he was, sitting in the Great Hall.

Lupin? No way. Lyall Lupin.

So he had met Padfoot’s Father and Uncle, Moony’s father, and his own grandfather.

Was he really going to befriend Remus’ dad?

He soon decided to head in, as the wind picked up. He took the long route, knowing Tom would have no reason to ever walk that way in the middle of the day.

He just wandered about, occasionally stopping in an alcove or quiet corridor to check the map. Tom didn’t seem to be leaving the Common Room’s bounds. He knew he had the advantage over the snake, because Tom would be able to know that he knew.

Once his legs felt sufficiently tired, he went to the Great Hall, to get some breakfast. It was actually closer to lunch, but food was food. Soon a brown haired, pale, freckled hufflepuff approached him. He was about the same height as he came to stand next to him.

“Harry Peverell?” he asked, a vague Welsh accent weaved into his speech.

“Yeah?”

“Lyall Lupin. Badeea told me about you… and your Riddle issues. Can I sit?” he asked, gesturing to the empty bench space in front of him.

“Go ahead.” Harry said, an odd sense of worry pulsing through him. This is probably his last shot at friendship.

“He’s a dick.” Lupin whispered once he was sat.

“Beyond that.” Harry returned with a slight chuckle.

“You aren't the only one who dislikes him. I know you probably don't see this side that much, cause everyone in Slytherin is so far up his arse, but most of the school can't stand him.”

“Really?” he asked, looking up for the first time.

“Oh yeah. If people say they are friends, that’s purely them not wanting to be hexed, or hunted down by one of his twatish friends. There isn’t one person that I talk to who actually tolerates him for more than a 5 minute conversation, and even that’s generous.”

“He’s so pompous.”

“I know!” replied Lyall, taking a sip of the pumpkin juice he poured.

“It must suck sharing a dorm with all of them.”

“Sometimes, but they mostly leave me alone.” he responded thoughtfully.

They continued chatting, until Tom and the Snakes walked in, where the both of them promptly stood up and walked right past them.

Lyall seemed fun.