Chapter Text
1995
When Harry returned for his sixth, he wasn't really sure what to expect. It had been another long summer, one filled with grief for Sirius and suspecting that everything was going to change. In a way he probably was correct, the world knew that Voldemort was back and Dumbledore had been the one that took him from his relative's house even giving the Dursley’s a rough talking to. Dumbledore, at best of times, could be seen as quite reasonable and others madder than a barn owl named pig. This is one of those times that Harry has his suspicions that his headmaster might be losing it. He seemed to be giving him unusually considering looks from his place at the head table since he had entered the great hall alone. It wasn’t as if Harry hadn’t given him some reasons to be concerned about him over the years. The danger was an Accio charm for him, it homed in like some unwanted beckon. But he had yet to do anything that was that noteworthy, the Summer being tame for his life at least. It was probably due to the lingering amount of blood on his clothes. He hadn’t bothered to do anything about that.
He wouldn’t bother to pretend he was something that he wasn’t nor that he wasn’t going to stick his nose into business that “didn’t concern him.” He had a thousand things to prepare for; a war brewing outside of the castle walls, a madman gaining power, a prophecy, and Newts. It wasn’t really ideal for any 16-year-old. It also wasn’t like he hadn’t already started the year off poorly by trying to listen into Draco Malfoy’s conversation.
Perhaps the last encounter at the end of the 5th year and Dumbledore's assurances not to leave him in the dark anymore prompted the creation of an emergency Portkey to be kept on his person at all times. He can’t say that it was a bad idea as long as he could reach it. The small black ring was easy to wear, easy to hide on his person. He had placed it on a chain and taken to playing with it during some of the more troubling parts of the summer when he had hovered between the public places and the hiding place of his horrible bedroom.
As he walked toward the table he unconsciously felt at it. The coolness was comforting. Love and loyalty shall save us all. Harry nodded, to himself it was appropriate. Love and loyalty had kept him alive for a long time, but it would have been something strange to work into a conversation.
Perhaps that was the purpose of it?
One couldn’t possibly say that without wanting to go somewhere. Harry joined Ron and Hermione in their seats at the Gryffindor table for the sorting. They didn’t bother to ask him what was wrong when he whispered later to them. It wasn’t the place if there was anything that he had learned it was Hogwarts didn’t have such a thing as privacy. There was always someone trying to listen in, even the portraits.
A few of his classmates noted his new look, and it wasn’t just the dusting of drying blood on his shirt. Over the summer, he'd allowed his messy black hair to grow out a little. Now that it wasn't cropped short, it stayed in place, not well but well enough. The scar that always showed brightly on his face was hidden amongst the longer strands. This, combined with his time outside and heavy tan, was probably a little jarring for them. He hadn’t really cared all that much about the state of his robes and had thrown them on so he could spy so that also could be an additional reason to stare at him.
Well, that besides the obvious chosen one nonsense that was being spread around. There might have been a prophecy about him, but that just as easily could have been completed the first several times that he had vanquished Voldemort. He huffed as he noticed the teacher looking at him over his cup. Slughorn taught Potions, and Snape was still up at the head table which meant one thing and one thing only, that he was going to finally get the job that he wanted. Defense Against the Dark Arts had always been his best subject. It looked like this year it was going to be unbearable. He put his head in his hand and tapped the other against the table.
His friends seemed to be trying to get his attention and this pulled his mind back to thoughts that were less distracted by the mess that his life was quickly becoming.
"It's nearly our last year and I still don't know what I want to do professionally!" Hermione's complaint, first uttered in the station before they'd boarded the Express, was likely to be heard many, many more times before the year ended as she had brought it up yet again in a poor attempt to bring up an alternative topic to the blood on him. He would have liked to talk about near anything else.
They had all looked through the brochures that had been distributed last year. Harry had chosen law enforcement simply because he figured that it could only help in these troubled times, but if he had a choice. If he really had a choice not dictated by madmen that got resurrected in graveyards or their sick cult following, he didn’t truly know what he would do. Maybe he would play Quiddich or just travel for a few years and find himself.
“You’ll be brilliant at whatever you do.” Ron says plainly, “I don’t know why you're all worried about it.”
“Roland.” Hermione shook her head, annoyed by him, and launched into one of her improvised lectures about the importance of their futures. Ron and Harry smirked at each other.
As she winded down Harry absently played with the ring which he'd done many times and was starting to become a habit.
"I still say I've seen that ring before, Harry." Hermione stopped to watch him as he twisted the chain between his fingers.
Ron rolled his eyes. “You’re not still on that are you, there probably are more of them made if it wasn’t custom.”
Harry decided to give her another at it anyway, slipping it from his neck. "Okay, Hermione, take a good look and tell me where." he held out his hand, dropping it into her outstretched waiting one.
It was simply a geometric design, one twisted into a circle with no start and end, just gold with small etchings into it, almost like runes or another language that he did not recognize. The small black stone didn’t look at all remarkable.
Hermione sighed. "I still can't remember, but I know I saw something just like it somewhere."
Ron shook his head. "Come off it, Hermione. This can't be the first one Dumbledore's made to keep someone safe."
The sorting ceremony was well on its way, and he ignored the names, only clapping every once and a while to welcome a new lion to their table. His eyes every so often drifted to the one person he could practically burn under the gaze of Snape. He was glaring at him more than usual, watching as he received his necklace back and pulled it back over his head. He met his gaze until the other very uncharacteristically broke eye contact. He fixed the hair he had tied back a little so he could see better and nudged Ron. "What's with Snape?"
"Who cares about the slimy git." Ron was more focused on the empty plate in front of him waiting for it to turn into something worth his while.
Harry quickly looked back over to the teacher's table at Hermione's deep sharp breath. "He looks... I don't know, he looks like his world was shattered like he’s going to be the new head of Hufflepuff.”
Harry laughed at the joke but still didn't understand why Snape seemed to be so off-center. Usually, the man kept his expressions reserved, all reactions hidden, except when his temper got the better of him. Then it was an explosion and usually, that eruption was connected to something that Harry had or hadn’t done, but now there was certainly a growing look of discomfort on the other’s face.
Noticing Harry's return gaze, Snape colored, his pale face reddening, the pale hollow face looked more pinched than normal. The man than in an act that furthered the strangeness got up from the staff table and left the Great Hall. The Headmaster’s gaze followed him back to Harry. The old man shook his head slightly and laid a restraining arm to prevent his Deputy from following the retreating Professor. The Headmaster looked almost sad, but his eyes were quick to return to their sparkling nature. Not wanting this much confusion when the school year hadn't even started yet, Harry turned his attention to the food that had appeared content to ignore everything and everyone. And he would have should there not be the sound of something like a scream breaking faintly just at that silent break-in conversion.
Harry leaned over to his best friend, "That didn’t exactly sound like a ghost or peeves.” The shrug was all he got in answer.
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Ron leaned back and watched Hermione talking to a group of first years about the castle, giving her new job as Prefect the perfect try. "I love it when the term starts so close to a weekend."
Harry smiled at his friend and didn't budge from where he was sprawled on the grass. They hadn't been talking much, just laying about and enjoying the sun. Down by the lake was safely within the Hogwarts wards, but outside enough to lend a feeling of freedom. Harry would have been flying if the pitch had not been booked. The few days starting into the new term weren’t all that bad. Snape however had been avoiding the great hall and Mcgunagall had started to eye him a little strangely as well. Nothing else seemed out of the ordinary other than Dumbledore’s insistence on meeting with him in his office in the evening.
He enjoyed a nap in the grass before heading to the headmaster's office. The other greets him and sets up what they are going to be doing for the rest of the year. Training for the war to come. He should have known that was what he should expect, still, he is scared, more so than he had been before stepping into the Ministry a year ago. He had seen death again and he had no wish to face it, nor to see others fall to it. The chosen one the burden is weighted on his shoulders draped like his father’s cloak over his thin shoulders.
Harry insists that besides the memories Dumbledore helped him practice some spells. If he was going to be the one that had to take another life, if he had to kill Voldemort, Tom Riddle, then he wanted to at least be prepared for it. Too long had he been leaving everything up to chance, to others to save him.
The old man agrees and during the first meeting to practice, the first spell that Harry casts is quick. It is the one that has gotten him out of many situations. The red bolt of light knocks the wand from the other’s hand.
“I did not think we started.” Dumbeldore smiles at him picking it up.
“You said to be unpredictable.” Harry shrugged.
“That may be so, but that was hardly fair, Harry.” The light tone showed he wasn’t scolding him, that it was in humor.
“I apologize sir, but the enemy is hardly going to hold back.”
“No, still that is a good use of the spell.”
“I hardly doubt that expelliarmus will win me a battle against Voldemort.” Harry says plainly.
“You would be surprised what spells can stop another with the proper will behind them,” Dumbledore answers cryptically.
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The year drags on and despite Harry’s insistence that Malfoy is up to something his friends do not believe him. Caught between Dumbledore and Slughorn is also increasingly difficult. He knows that they need to know how many Horcruxes Voldemort made but the strain of it all is making him feel ill to his stomach. The attacks continued and Snape, who still looked at him funny, tormented him with defensive spells and offensive practice. Hermione helped him research wards, curses, and things he was likely to encounter when going after such horrid objects, but he didn’t feel prepared, not remotely.
The ring on his finger feels colder than ever. The Diary had been one and Dumbledore had destroyed another though he had not told him what it was. They could be anything, but the headmaster had insisted that they would be things close to Voldemort. As the semester wore down, he worried more and more about what was going on outside the castle walls.
The spring air was melting into Summer. The one good thing that came out of this year is that Ron and Hermione had finally admitted their feelings for one another and were happily dating. He was happy for them really, but he also was a little worried about his place in their group at the same time, and about his own ability to eventually find someone. Maybe there was something wrong with him that he had never dated a girl, never really kissed anyone besides Cho that one time and it had been truly horrible.
Ron kept insisting that as the Chosen one he could have anyone if he just applied himself and asked a girl, but Harry is struggling to understand why he might have ever thought about dating one. He dissected it under a magnifying glass and turned the idea in his head around and around.
Mostly he knew that he should date a girl because that was expected of him, right? Teenagers dated, they ran the castle after hours, drank, started petty fights, worried about school, and then graduated to start careers.
He had no idea if he would even make it out of his teens, and all he had ever wanted to be was normal. Ever since he had entered the wizarding world and even before it when he had lived with the Dursleys he had wished for it for what normality would have bought him. Boys like girls. They had types as Ron called it, pretty, thin, or thicker and curvy. They found something like sports they had in common and let their hormones do the rest. Just tried kissing till it felt right and tried other things if they were both in agreement.
Yet he didn’t think he was normal…
No matter how he tried to convince himself. Ginny was everything that he figured that a pretty, confident, girl would be like. She and he had sports in common, a love for defense magic, and connection as her family was practically his. He at first glance could almost convince himself that he wanted her. But the act of actually kissing her, speaking with her, picturing long-term what it would mean to fall in love with her… upset him for some reason that he could not put his finger on.
He wished it wasn’t that way, he wished that he could lean into her crush because he did like the feeling of being wanted, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t want her like that in return. He supposed that really what he wanted was for someone to love him, love him the way that Ron obviously loved Hermione. He had love, he knew that platonic love from all his friends but he did sometimes feel incredibly lonely and no matter how lonely he got, he could not justify it to himself to put Ginny through the motions of him pretending, just to feel some semblance of it.
Girls seemed fragile to him, breakable, too emotional. Not that Ginny was weak or anything but she was smaller than him, thinner. She had a temper that rivaled Snapes, was more stubborn than Harry himself, and put Hermione’s hexes to shame. But she was emotional, he knew what happened with Dean and he did not want to be in the same boat.
He wanted someone that could hold him up when he put all his weight on them. He wanted strong arms to wrap around him and steady him, comfort him. He wanted someone that he could fight with physically, and verbally when he needed to take the edge off everything.
When he thought of what he was looking for, well it was someone with broad shoulders and short hair. Someone like Cedric with a warm welcoming face. And when he thinks of how Cedric used to fly around and Krum. His heart would race a little, and he would be upset with himself, disgusted because his friend is gone. He got him killed and to think of him like that… It was a sock thing to do.
He ran a hand through his hair.
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Dumbledore had found another one amongst an old cave that Riddle visited as a child. He can still picture the postcard long after he has made it to his dorm room and spelled the curtains around him. He keeps thinking about how good-looking and charismatic the younger version of Voldemort was and it makes his skin crawl. He would have found some of the things the ‘model’ student was saying, acting hard not to believe had he been attending school with him. If he had not known the monster that lurked not even deep under the surface he could have been taken in by that.
He rubbed at his tired eyes.
Harry doesn’t wish to go. He knows that it can’t be as easy as just walking into a cave and coming out with the treasure. He has seen that hand the way that it is getting worse, more blackened and sickly. Dumbledore was dying or at the very least was incredibly weakened by the last Horcrux.
The number 7 rings in his ears.
How could someone split their soul all they ever were and would be into 7 pieces?
They would in a few nights have 3 out of them if everything went well and knowing his luck something was bound to go poorly. They didn’t even know for sure what else might be relevant to Voldemort’s life enough to turn them into such a vessel to the soul. At least he suspected the snake was one.
So he knew what 4 were, but that doesn’t account for what the other 3 would be, where they would be. He took a deep breath and rolled over.
He didn’t want to think much about what the cave would have in store for him. If anything he just wished to get it over with. Maybe there was something very wrong with him if he was just wanting to face the danger and die or overcome it. It was the unknown of it that always bothered him, the more time that he had to think, and turn over the situations in his mind, the more room there was to be afraid.
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Ron looked past his girlfriend and the few others to the sky beyond the lake. His excited chatter about the Summer quidditch matches and possible weddings died down on its own. Harry had only half been paying attention. His nerves were too frayed from the incident in the bathroom with Malfoy. He was lucky he hadn’t killed the other. He couldn’t get the way that Snape had looked at him out of his head, the frantic muttering of the spell to save the blond.
"Hey, What's that?"
Harry's gaze followed his pointing finger to a dark blur in the sky.
"Maybe a cloud?" His guess was quick, but he sat up for a closer look after a moment. It was too black, moving too fast, twisting curling. "It's moving too fast. Ron, I don't think it's a cloud."
Ron looked at him and then they both jumped to their feet. Harry had not the slightest clue what it was but it couldn’t have been anything good. Ron raced for Hermione, yelling at her and the others to get inside. Luna however had to be dragged by Neville because she was frozen looking at it over her sunglasses.
Harry stayed rooted in his spot, watching the dark blur move up on the castle, slamming into it and retreating like the tide with a loud rumble that wasn’t thunder. Another moving shape at the edge of the forest caused him to turn, spotting someone in a dark robe moving out from the woods, there was another streak and another. The skull-like masks are a vivid contrast in the daylight and there was no mistaking it now.
"Hermione!" The yell got his friend's attention. Ron was shoving at her as she fumbled to get her wand drawn. "We're under attack!"
She looked to the woods, which were now crawling with more figures, some appearing on brooms high in the skyline, before being jolted into action and helping Ron to chase the younger years towards the castle. They were yelling for the Professors, and a few responded, moving to positions on the castle steps, the other’s no doubt investigating the area that had been slammed into. The dust was clearing and there was smoke from the highest tower. He had a feeling whatever Draco had been up to, had allowed for this to happen.
He knew It had been too quiet this year and the ‘Dark Lord’ had a habit of picking the end of the year to pull anything. He should have known that something like this would happen. Maybe He began to move closer to the castle, trying to keep an eye on all possible enemies. There were ways onto the grounds through passages and it seemed that those that were being stopped by the wards were just there waiting, for what he wasn’t sure.
Not till that horrible familiar chill hit him. He knew what it was before he saw them. He had lived through too many encounters with them…
The darkening of the sky and their cloaks of shadow spreading around him. The attack moved onto them far faster than he expected. Dementors, a group that appeared to contain fifteen to twenty, were moving easily onto the grounds. Death Eaters appeared to be the backup, perhaps scouting the attack. It couldn’t be a full assault with so few Death Eaters. But it was enough, for whatever task that they were trying to accomplish.
Harry joined the teachers in casting Expecto Patronum towards the creatures. Watched with grim satisfaction as his Patronus ran down and tormented them. Prongs swang at them with his antlers, he kicked and he charged. A few figures were moving towards the quidditch pitch, that no doubt some of his peers had fled to, to hide because they couldn’t make it to the castle in time.
He made his way towards the pitch leading the undead creatures away from the others. It was him that they no doubt wanted, they always wanted him. Prongs danced at his side, matching him, before leading the way clearing him a path forward.
It wasn't a brave act that sent him that way, nothing heroic that Snape would have called him out on. It was simply something that had to be done, he couldn’t see another person die, not when he could help it. There was also something worth conjuring to him, closer to him, that would give him a better advantage. Harry was a talented flier and likely better able to avoid Death Eaters in the air, than on the ground. Besides, someone had to knock the scouts from their brooms.
Well that and… He knew that if there was someone or something that their Lord wanted most that it would probably be him. So he summoned his broom to him when he was close, mounted it in seconds, and took off. He raced through the air, dodging curses.
On the ground, the teachers, with the older years, managed to knock at least two of the Death Eaters that thought to fly too close from their brooms. Another that was too focused on him, didn’t turn right and was hit in the chest with a stunner and they landed on the ground with a sharp crunch. He felt a cutting curse whiz by him and he quickly dipped his broom.
The other few turned their attention to him and rocketed towards him. Even those on the ground became distracted, starting to fire curses upward. All wanting the glory that would come with the capture or assurance that Harry Potter was dead would earn them. He had wanted their attention, but it was definitely getting hard even to breathe in the air now. He leaned forward, his hair blowing crazily behind him. He raced over the water, the lake's clear surface rippled by the wind that he kicked up going low.
The squid beneath reached up and pulled a Death Eater who'd been following him too close by their leg into the murky water. They never would surface again, if the flailing of the tentacles and desperation to drag their newfound prey under was any clue. The splashing and wriggling of large limbs provided cover, absorbing spells of those that were still chasing him. Each spell that hit the soft pink flesh of the sea monster only seemed to enrage it further, making it harder and harder to fly. He made a sharp turn and started back towards the castle, spinning and feeling the grace of the barbed suction cups between the waves.
His robes became soaked, and the smallest bristles fell from his broom. He raced upward out of the way of another arm not expecting the sharp gust of wind, likely spell caused, to push him just into the reach of the Whomping Willow. The wispy branches struck the tail end of his broom, flinging him to the ground in a bruising dismount. He rolled, moving out of reach of further limbs, and leaped to his feet to run as the larger clubbed branch crashed into the ground sending mud raining down around him.
The Death Eaters were quick to try and change course. Vines burst from the earth to impede his progress. He felt the air leave him as one of the vines threw him and he slammed into the ground again. The largest of them twisted around his leg with a pressure that shattered it. He screamed, cutting his way free with more panic than skill. He barely could block with a magical shielding the slashing curse that would have taken his head, it shattered his charm. His glasses shattered with the force of compressed air around him. The glass slicing into his cheek.
At least they didn't know about his portkey. He would have to use it, he couldn’t run like this, his leg was buckling under his own weight. He could hardly stand.
Crutio
He struggled through the convolutions to grab at his neck, he needed the ring.
He heard the faint Scream of, "Avada Kedavra '' from behind him and turned to see a Death Eater unleashing that deadly green light, just as another blue spell seemed to collide with it and him. As it rushed him, to death, he concentrated on the ring on his hand; "Love and loyalty shall save us all."
That familiar jerking sensation from behind his navel took hold and the grounds of Hogwarts disappeared in a cocoon of green light and nausea. The pain to his arm where it all struck burned, he held on tighter to his wand and the ring.
He didn’t want to die!
It was the running of ears, the tearing of himself, he hadn’t ever liked the rushing sound, but it never felt that long. It felts as if he was falling forever as if his heart is hardly beating and his lungs ached with lack of air. His tears almost seem to freeze to his face as his blood chilled. And then the darkness subsides to endless white, and it all comes back to him the pain, the feeling in his fingers, his heart starts racing and he can feel it beat against his rib cage.
Harry groaned as his abused body dropped to the courtyard of Hogwarts. The impact aggravated bruises obtained when he'd been knocked off his broom. His leg gave him a painful reminder of its presence. He curled his fingers into the dirt. With general nausea caused by the portkey and the overall presence of his injuries and lack of glasses. He was not a happy, or comfortable, young man. He let his head fall to the ground for a few moments to get his bearings. The odd thing was, even in his near-blind state he could tell there was something off. He sat up the best he could, backing against the back of the nearby tree. Hoping the spinning would stop, the ache in his head would subside enough for him to feel out of any danger.
But all he could feel was how ordinary it was, how silent, and that was precisely what was so wrong when it all came down to it. There was no damage, no sign of other students. There would have been at least some spell damage, something but there wasn’t…
No, now that he thought about it, squinted his eyes, the trees were younger, not as thick. There was a bench dedicated to former students missing. He groaned again, forcing himself into a standing position. Agony shooting up his leg, he made his way forwards. His hands tingled with the lingering curse, his wand arm too sore from his landing to be used properly. He was too tired to try a healing spell. He needed to get into the castle. He at least would find someone that could help him. Madam Pomfrey would be able to mend it in seconds, but Snape would have pain potions that could be stolen from his storeroom.
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It was harder than he thought. The pain was inhibiting, the more he moved, the more he could feel his own bones grinding against each other. He wasn’t going to make it to the doors at this point. He was dizzy still, his head throbbed and he finally gave, cashing to the ground and fighting to keep his eyes open.
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He was slightly startled when he looked up to find Dumbledore staring at him with a curious expression from a desk chair.
"Did we get them all?"
His question was met with confusion, "All whom, young man?"
Harry looked at Dumbledore and then at the Healer that didn’t seem to know what he was talking about either. They looked younger, much younger than before. It seemed impossible but perhaps this wasn’t just a displacement by distance, but rather time itself…
His eyes widened and he quickly looked away from the eyes, that rumor had it, could read minds. He couldn’t do anything, he couldn’t talk to them about anything, or he could or rather would destroy the timeline!
But then again… Hermione had said that if anyone saw a person that had used a time-turner that they would be cursed or just disappear into nothing. Since none of that seemed to have happened... No endless aging or truing into a baby; it might have been safe to say that he was okay to be in this time for now. And if he was to stay that way (completely intact for the most part) he needed to remain as normal as possible and not allude to himself being a time traveler that the Dumbeldore would feel nothing about handing off to the Ministry to protect a few lives that may or not be in the future.
He for once was grateful for being out of uniform. He can only imagine how that would already have complicated things.
Dumbledore frowned as he had not gotten an answer to his waiting question. "I think you need to explain, who exactly you are."
The old man’s words hardly registered. He had never been good at lying, but he had to give it his all. The consequences were still not clear to him. Besides, it wasn’t like the man had any real reason to believe him. His fingers tightened on the bedsheet to the hospital bed.
“Don’t push him, Albus, he has been through something awful.” The healer warned. “He broke his leg and there is evidence of dark curses.”
Harry shrugged, "Doesn't hurt that bad. Thank you for healing me."
At this, the Headmaster looked a little shocked, "I believe your list of injuries included the Cruciatus."
Harry reached for the ring, feeling at it, it was comforting. It was colder than before, he could feel the magic had changed on it. Maybe it was designed for a one-way trip. He shook his head, unsure. Dumbledore watched carefully, he might have recognized the ring for his eyes seemed to spark to life.
“I have had worse.” He says simply. “I didn’t intend to intrude.” He stalled trying to think of a reasonable explanation, and from studying Hogwarts a history, he just might have had one. “I needed asylum, the portkey was supposed to take me to it.”
“Protection from the people chasing you.” Dumbledore raised a bushy white brow, stroking his beard.
“Person.” Harry corrects him. “though I can not guarantee how many of his followers are going to be alive for allowing me to escape.”
It wasn’t a lie He always did better when he was able to blend truth with lies.
“And where was this port key met to take you?” He asked kindly, prompting. Harry had always hated when the adults in his life wanted to coddle him. They had always been on the reaction to the trauma he had endured never ahead of it. That bit of anger he is quick to swallow.
“My mentor made it, I can’t tell you where they keyed it to. Just that it was to send me somewhere safe should he come looking for me. When it activated there were many spells flying at me, I don’t know what landed but I am sure that it affected the destination results.”
Another smooth blend of truth and misdirection. Fred and George would be proud.
Dumbledore nodded, "Yes, that would cause an unpredictable reaction. It is not safe to use any magic in the vortex of a portkey. I imagine a lesser spell would cause a lesser effect."
They lapsed back into silence and Harry studied the wall in front of him. He had often been in this room, he had counted every ceiling tile and stone floor shape. It’s easier to clear his mind just in case with that distraction.
“Do you have a name?” The Headmaster asks and the Healer looks a little disturbed that the other is offering him a place so easily.
Harry stubbles still needing to build something, a history coming to him on the fly as he sees the Slytherin banner. He had studied far too much history of Tom Riddle over the last year. He knew nearly everything that there was to know. A boy couldn’t be a threat to end the dark lord in this time, chosen or not. He needed a reason to avoid the snake man and for refuge to be offered to a stranger, one that had no background. Thus it had to be convincing why he wouldn’t have a birth certificate or anything in this time. He was more than just a target for the Death Eaters, but rather a threat to the clean image Tom made. That could work…
“I don’t think I shouldn’t tell you it.” He sat up a little straighter. “It might send him after you. He tends to want to get to me. It might be dangerous to be here for any given amount of time.”
He hopes his voice hitches correctly, it's not too hard to add the emotion of desperation when it was something that he felt, but didn’t often want to express.
“It will be alright, he can’t get onto the grounds, not many can. The wards are strong.” The old man tries to reassure him. “Now, I think I have an idea who it is that you fear but why is he after you, no offense intended my boy, but you are a little young to be one of his targets.”
“It would be easier to show you.” Harry looks to the banner and he hisses and the snake moves. It wriggles trying to get closer, interested in him. He is all into this lie now.
Dumbledore tilted his head slightly, "Yes, I can see a resemblance. Tom always did hate to share.”
Harry shook slightly, overall trembling, he knew that. He had known it when he had seen the teenage version that had risen from the diary. He knew it when he had stared into the dead eyes of a child left in an orphanage without love. They both had the same dark hair, and the same skinny build, it is their eyes that set them apart. Blue vs Green.
“Harris, my mother called me Harry.” It is better to have a name that was nearly his own, or he would not listen to it. Harry managed to control the slight trembling in his body as he tried to sell this. "What am I supposed to do?”
A fair question because he wasn’t sure what to do with himself in this time, and his current location at least had access to a library, wards that would project him, and would give him time to think about his next moves. He knows a bit of how to destroy Voldemort, and in this time he only had 5 Horcruxes.
Dumbledore smiled slightly. "It may be difficult, but it would be the safest thing to stay here. An attack has recently destroyed a small wizarding school in Wales; we will claim you survived and have been transferred here. Enough of our students have lost family and no one will question you if you claim to be orphaned."
He took a deep breath.
“That is probably inconsiderate of me, did you recently lose your mother.”
He remained silent for a long time. It had been 15 years but some days it still felt fresh. He heard her screaming in his nightmares, pleading for Voldermort to spare him.
“I saw her die.” He decides. “He killed her for daring to protect me.”
“Perhaps the finer details can wait.” Pomfrey cut in to save him again. He can not precisely imagine why, for she was never this soft to him in the future. She always seemed angry that he was there in her rooms. He must have truly looked pathetic, and while that was part of his intention, was no less humiliating.
“I am fine Mrs...” He said trailing off so that she could finish the sentence and give him an excuse if he accidentally slipped up with something as simple as a name.
“Pomfrey, Poppy.” She introduced.
He nodded in acceptance of the name. “I would feel best if I knew what was to happen. it might actually make me sleep peacefully, it’s been a while since that was possible.”
The Headmaster nodded his head. “Your full name is out of the question but if we will announce you as Harris Smith. The name should be close enough that you would be comfortable with it, yet not quite obvious enough to cause a problem. There are a lot of Smiths so it should be easy enough to slip past the Ministry. I am sure that Tom has let very few know of you."
Harry frowned, the opportunities involved in this mess were unreal, but he could get to know his parents, have more time with his godfather, and torment some of his own enemies on their own schoolboy level. Things could perhaps work out. “Thank you.”
He was truly grateful… but he could not allow it to be that simple. Certainly, a traumatized person would not accept the words of a stranger for what they were.
“What is it that you want from me in return.”
“I beg your pardon, Harris.” Dumbledore had the ability to look quite innocent when he wanted, and when Harry knew that most of the time that the man had everyone's best interest at heart, he knew that the other often had more than one reason for doing something. He would seek to use Harris too, even if he had not made the inference that Harry had been hoping he would.
“No one does anything for free.” Harry sat up straighter in bed. “What is it that you would like in exchange for safety?”
“No one should have to beg for help, help shall always be given for those that ask for it.” He put his hand on him and Harry winced at the feeling against his bruises. The man quickly drew it back, worried that he might have been afraid. “If it is important to you, perhaps you can help in the future to gain a little more information on Tom.”
Oh to be sorted again... Wait, that was a concern. He nibbled a little at his lip. "How will I be sorted?”
"I will have to speak with the Sorting Hat." Dumbledore continued, standing up. “in the meantime please rest.”
As Harry was handed off to the capable healer, he decided to make the best of this time. It might be the closest he ever came to vacation in his young life. After all, here Voldemort was not explicitly trying to kill him, yet. He would try certainly when not if, he found about about him. The only thing that mattered was that he tracked down the Horcruxes before that. Meddling with time was dangerous but him not existing was fine if it spared the rest of the world from the things he had seen coming.
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He spent the next day and night in the infirmary recovering before he was allowed out of bed and invited to have dinner with the few staff that helped to run the castle in the summer. He was lucky that there were only a few weeks before the new term, for it allowed for many people to be there, with work to do to prepare for the new batch of students and those that would be returning. Dumbledore greeted him and was kind enough to walk him to the great hall.
"The professors have consulted and agreed to provide you with a scholarship for this year, including all necessary equipment and clothing which will be delivered to your dormitory once you are sorted."
Harry could see the twinkle in Dumbledore's eye and shook his head at the falsehoods being created to cover him. He was used to having no money in the Muggle world, for now, it was just as true in the wizarding one. Maybe Dumbledore expected something from him, other than the great thanks he offered with a bowed head. Humility was probably not something that Tom Riddle had ever shown, he probably held resentment for the few things offered to him.
Harry was not that way, never could be, not with how his life was. He didn’t think he would have been upset like Ron with handle-down robes or a wand at the age of 11 if his parents had left him anything he would have been happy. He would have been grateful for anything, especially leaving number 4.
"I want you to come to me directly if you have need of anything, Harris." The older wizard stopped him outside the doors to the Great Hall and looked at him carefully, "This will not be easy for you, I am sure, but you may come to my office at any time."
Harry nodded and followed the headmaster silently into the Great Hall.
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The weeks before students arrive are productive for him. He practices magic, reads, and interacts with the younger versions of his professors. The new glasses sit on his nose a little too low, but he can push them up if they dropped uncomfortably. He tried to balance spending time around the staff and finding out more about the time he found himself in. He looks to the awards in cases, newspapers, and casual conversation. If he seems spacy, he almost cries in a new sort of loneliness that comes with losing everyone that he loved, knowing they exist outside this loop that he has entered, they assume it is because he has recently been orphaned. They only offer comfort and kind words. The only 2 to know the ‘truth’ is Pomfrey and Dumbledore. One of which was sworn to secrecy and thus not going to tell anyone. Dumbledore he can’t quite pin down, but he doesn’t think he would reveal this secret to just anyone and only at the most appropriate of time.
The few things that he had of his old life were his wand, luckily, it wasn’t a recognizable object. The other was the ring, which he had taken to playing with on his finger rather than on his neck. It had saved him he is sure of it so it would stay with him at all times, even if the magic enchantments on it felt different. And his father’s cloak shrunk down to that of a handkerchief and thankfully seemingly unnoticed by Dumbledore. He had a feeling he would need it, but have to be careful that it never was discovered to match the one that his father no doubt had on his person for mischief.
On the day before the term was to start, something came over him, not the ache that he had when he arrived. Certainly not that apathy that he had started to build to try and not be swallowed up by how greatly he missed his friends, but something like resignation and slight determination to make some sort of difference.
“Are you worried about the sorting?” Flitwick asked him over breakfast. He was one of the few teachers that had taken a liking to him. McGonagall, he wasn’t sure about yet, Slughorn liked him about as much as any other student he might be able to collect. The defense teacher was indifferent to him and Hagrid well he was at least friendly.
“No.” Harry shrugged. “I have a feeling what house I will be in.”
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Harry watched the faces in the halls as Madame Pomfrey escorted him from the hospital wing that he had been helping to stock with potions. He felt he did much better at potions since reading the Half-blood Prince’s book. He didn’t have it to rely on now but he had learned enough to question some of the original teaching methods and he would be brewing the same things of not close to the same things as a newly established 6th-year student.
Most faces he did not recognize, some of the other students that he passed on their way to the great hall for seating before the first years. Some he did their younger versions were strange. Professor McGonagall, younger, of course, had a Gryffindor student's ear twisted in her hand. It was the identity of that student which shocked him so... Sirius Black. Harry sat still for a moment, caught in the sight of his godfather who'd been dead for the past year. It was only when the young man spoke that Harry noticed another student.
"He hexed me, why aren't you ripping his ear off?"
Snape… Severus Snape. He looked tiny in comparison to those around him. McGonagall twisted her hand slightly, causing Sirius to rise onto his toes, "Because I expect better of a Gryffindor than the behavior you exhibit, Mr. Black."
Harry almost didn't recognize a young Snape. After all, he'd seen Snape screaming, throwing things, in a vicious rage. But never with a forming black eye and blood dripping down his face, from his hooked nose. He had long hair, it was a mess of tangles, but not greasy. His black bead-like eyes looked alive with anger, but the silence of it, the way his fist clenched, and he said nothing was new.
McGonagall gestured, "Will either of you be telling me what happened, or will I have to assign detentions this early into the term?"
The teens stared back with blank faces, Sirius looking mulish, Severus having perfected his inscrutable expression long ago.
"Since neither of you wishes to speak up, you will both serve detention. Mr. Black, you will come straight to my office after the feast. Mr. Snape, you will see Professor Slughorn. I will inform him of the circumstances so that he will provide suitable discipline."
She released Black and Severus dabbed at his nose heading towards the Slytherin table as the head of Gryffindor was headed to let her new students into the great hall.
“A moment Snape.” Pomfrey intervened and fixed the damage with a quick wave of her wand. It seemed this was a very common occurrence, by the way, that she knew his name and what to do.
It was then that Snape turned his attention to him. Staring in a way that was softer than he had ever looked at him, just that of curiosity unsure what to make of him. Harry wondered then and there if Snape had yet to become a Death Eater. The rivalry that had been present in order meetings between Sirius and him was there, but maybe it wasn’t too late for the other to choose a diffrent path.
Then again… maybe nothing was changeable and he was just going to be swept up into a temporal current like one of the books theorized and nothing he did would matter anyway. He broke eye contact first. Striding up towards the head table where there was a stool waiting with an old friend on top of it.
He doesn’t mind the eyes on him. He stands tall, not bowing under it knowing that weakness was something that certain houses capitalized on.
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The first years were sorted first. Dumbledore himself moved to the stool where the Sorting Hat had been rested after the last first year had set it back down and turned to face the Hall. Harry shifted his weight not liking the added attention that this had brought. Every eye was on him.
"Harris Smith joins us after a great tragedy. Welcome him to Hogwart's and treat him well as he adjusts to our home."
Then, with a gesture to the stool, Harry approached. He lifted the Sorting Hat and placed it on his head after sitting down. The voice came to him.
"So, Harry… How interesting to see you under my brim again."
Harry winced, he knew that the hat read memories, and searching for things on which to act on to give a proper house. He hadn't expected it to dig so far down.
"Oh, yes... hhhmmmm.... You fought me on your last sorting.
He had, hadn’t he, tooth and nail not to be placed in Slytherin. He didn’t have a preference this time, but it would be harder to solve a lot of the issues he wanted to while being stuck in the house of budding Death Eaters.
"Please not Slytherin." He tried already feeling like it. wouldn’t do him any good.
"This time you don't get your way. It paused before adding Besides trying to fool everyone like you are, there isn’t anything more fitting.”
And Harry felt the chill as the voice moved from his head to yell to the hall, "SLYTHERIN!"
He sat for a moment, not moving, not taking the hat off. Finally, Dumbledore lifted the hat for him. There was the minimal reaction from the hall, polite clapping from Slytherin, booing from Gryffindor, but it wasn't the insanity of his first sorting. He almost could be happy for that, to be no one, because that would allow for him to continue his plan uninterrupted. Harry stood after a moment and strode to the Slytherin table. He sat, not noticing where, and focused on the food, trying to put something in his stomach. The others left him alone for most of the feast until a tallish blonde approached him.
He had a slight sense of Deja-Vu looking up at someone who was obviously to be Lady Malfoy from his seated position.
"Welcome to Slytherin, Harris. My name is Narcissa Black."
Harry shook the hand, not really knowing what else he could do.
"Hello," the response was short, but he hasn't about to say what a pleasure it was to meet her.
She looked down at Harry for a moment and then her face hardened, "If you're going to survive in Slytherin, Harris, you'll want to remember that some of us are to be treated with respect." With that vaguely threat-sounding comment, the young woman gathered the first years to follow her to leave the hall.
Figures that Malfoy’s mother would be one of those types of prefects. At least this vague threat was both equal parts to intimidate him but also to give advice. He was perfectly capable of ignoring his housemates if he wanted to but would play along nicely, for as long as they did the same. Harry stood a few moments later and moved out of the hall. He knew where the Slytherin common room was, thanks to an adventure with Polyjuice potion in his second year, and that knowledge served him well now because it didn’t seem that anyone cared to show him the way. It was fine, he had not expected a warm welcome. Not with a muggle seeming name. As he stepped from the doors of the hall, he heard a comment. One obviously pitched to carry to his ears, even if it would then seem accidental.
"At least now we know how you survived when no one else did."
Harry turned to see who was criticizing him and couldn't help but stare. Sirius approached him, Remus trailing after trying to stop him. He was holding onto him. "Sirius, you just got a detention.”
This however was ignored.
“Is that some sort of accusation.” He asked trying to understand exactly what the other meant by that comment.
Sirius stepped up to Harry and looked at him with a sneer, “The attack on the private school was by Death Eaters.”
He said it like that meant anything. Harry blinked finding his anger quickly. His godfather was so blind, certainly, he could not hate him just for the robes that he wore. There had to be a better reason for him always going after Snape. It was absurd, there wasn’t a signal way that he was such an idiot.
“Are you suggesting that because the Hat placed me in Slytherin, I somehow deserved to watch my friends and family be brutally killed by a group of terrorists?” He asked slowly.
Remus paled greatly by the biting comment and quickly pulled against Sirius. “He didn’t mean it.”
“I am quite sure he did.” Harry’s heart squeezed.
“I did.” Sirius said as if to confirm his words.
“I stayed here over the summer and was assured that Gryiffendor was that of the chivalrous. Perhaps you would like to get into further detentions with Professor McGonagall.” Harry hissed.
"Watch your self.” Sirius warned.
“Or what you’ll hold me under and unforgivable too?” Harry looked up into the other teen's deep black eyes. “I have met much more terrifying wizards than you. I have survived them too.”
Sirius was still in shock when Remus pulled him away no doubt to his detention. It was probably that lack of reaction, that saved him from a fight with his Godfather, but he figured that one was going to come sooner than later with the audacity of thinking that he could escape his house’s title. Maybe the anger hadn’t subsided from not getting to torment Snape which led to him itching for another fight.
He sighed deep breath.
Minutes later, he stood outside where the Slytherin common room should be, staring in confusion at the wall. He didn’t think that it took a correct tap, just the password, that none had seen fit to tell him. There were a few snake stones at the edge of one of the bricks hinting at an entrance, so he had to have the right wall. He concentrated on picturing the snakes as able to talk with him and hissed.
~Open~
The language held weight because it opened easily and he stepped into the common room, he looked around and mentally compared it to the one he remembered. A different generation of the ‘noble’ families, but the room looked the same. The snakes on the portraits were whispering of him again. He pretended not to understand as his housemates turned to look at the now-open entryway.
One such housemate strode up to him angrily, "Who told you the password?"
The question stopped all noise and traffic in the room as the remaining occupants turned to watch. Harry looked over the other students and strongly suspected that this someone had told them to lock him out. He looked at the blonde young man and just smirked. He wasn't about to give away the secret of something that may turn out to be an asset, nor give his hand away just yet.
“I was informed of it by our head of house.” The lie came off easily. “Certainly, you didn’t think that he would allow for the new exchange student to be locked out on their first night. And I honestly expected more from the house of cunning, trying to be exclusive so early in the term is in poor taste don't you think?”
The smirk did not make the expression on the other boy’s face any more pleasant, "Just make sure you don't turn out to be a disgrace to the name of wizards. We already have plenty of those in this house."
Harry didn't break eyecontact with him. “Right.”
He could guess what counted as a disgrace to Wizarding kind, but couldn’t really give less of a shit at the moment. Ignoring the creeping unpleasant thoughts he went looking for his dorm room. He found it after a few moments of searching, deciding not to ask for help from any of the students casting him paranoid looks and just spelled his way in.
Once inside, he flung himself into the poster bed and drew the curtains; casting a variety of ward and defense spells, he slipped his wand under his pillow and dropped into an undisturbed slumber.