A Thread of Time

Chapter Two

*

“What House are you in?”

“Err,” Harry replied, leaving a too-long pause in his mental scurry for an answer.

Tom raised an eyebrow. “You haven’t been sorted? I suppose you are a transfer student?”

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

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

Harry frowned. “Where shall I sit?”

Tom took a light hold of Harry’s elbow and maneuvered him towards the Slytherin Table. “You can sit with me. You will most likely be in Slytherin anyway, since you have the gift of Parseltongue.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A greedy snake,” Tom mused as he watched Harry interestedly.
There was a pause.

“You’re a Parselmouth!” a young girl exclaimed. She looked like a third or fourth year student.
Harry began to eat, already tired of the stares.

“Well observed,” the boy on Harry’s other side said dryly. “I’m Dorian, by the way.” He slid Harry a glance.

“You’ll have to excuse the stupidity of the lower years. Occasionally it gets slightly out of hand.”

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

“I’m Cedrella Black,” she said suddenly without looking up. She must have felt Harry staring.

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

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

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

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

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

He stared at her. “Define ‘inferior kind’.”

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

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

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

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

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

“What school did you attend before you came to this… establishment?”

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

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

“I don’t know; what exactly are the subjects?”

“Potions, Transfiguration, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Astronomy, you name it.”

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

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

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

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

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

He started when he realized Dorian was trying to get his attention. “Sorry, what?”
The boy gave him an amused smile, and Harry caught his breath. God, the guy was gorgeous when he smiled. He had dark, shoulder length hair and blue, dreamy eyes. Harry mentally scolded himself for sounding so sappy.

“I said, what’s your surname?”

“Oh right, Potter.”

Harry received several surprised looks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Harry turned to face Tom. “What about you? Are we still… friends?”

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

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

“That doesn’t explain why we have not heard of you before,” Cedrella spoke up.

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

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

Harry rolled his eyes at him.

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

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

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

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

Cedrella nodded slowly in understanding. She turned to Tom.

“You’re being exceptionally quiet, today, Tom,” she said.

Tom’s hazel eyes settled on her. “My mind is occupied with other things,” he said absently.

“Clearly.”

“I’m bored,” the snake said, its tongue flicking in Harry’s ear.

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

“I don’t need anymore mice. Entertain me.”

“Maybe later.”

“Why?”

“Because.”

“Because what?”

“Because I said so.”

“But I am bored and you are my friend.”

“So?”

“So you have to make me happy.”

Harry frowned. “You have a twisted idea of what ‘friend’ means.”

“You humans make no sense.”

Tom chuckled in amusement. Harry glanced at him.

“Are you finished, Harry?”

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

Tom stopped suddenly, and pulled Harry into an empty classroom, the door shutting behind them.
Harry blinked as the taller boy turned to face him. “What is it?” he asked, curious, while his hand was itching to grab his wand and hex the Slytherin.

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

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

“I was simply wondering, Harry, why the similarities between us both are so astounding.”
Harry gulped silently, but Tom went on.

“I will list then if you wish. We are both parselmouths. We are both ‘half-blood’s’ as they call it, although I would be very pleased if you did not repeat that elsewhere. We look similar. And I can tell you are lying, Harry.”

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

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

Harry frowned. Then sighed in defeat. “Alright, fine. You’ve got me. You win.”

Tom appeared slightly taken aback. “I’m sorry?”

“Congratulations, you’ve caught me out. Now what?”

Tom frowned slightly, before smirking. “Like I said, I would appreciate some answers. What is your real name?”
Harry shook his head. “I wasn’t lying about my name. It really is Harry Potter.”

“How did you become a parselmouth?”

Harry pursed his lips and looked away.

“Let’s try this a different way, shall we?”

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

“I can’t tell you,” he said, meeting Tom’s intense gaze. They were now centimeters apart.

“I’m quite sure you can.”

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

Tom appeared interested. “Oh? Do explain.”

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

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

“Go on,” he said.

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

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

Harry stared at him incredulously. “Related?”

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

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

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

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

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

Suddenly he was spun around again.

Tom looked somewhat annoyed, he noted. “I killed your what? Your family? Your brother, sister? Your parents?”

Harry tensed at that - and Tom felt it.

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

Harry supposed it was. He shrugged and tried to turn again when he was abruptly pushed up against the door.
How in Merlin’s beard did he get himself into this mess?