A Thread of Time

Chapter Nine

*

“I hear you were offered a position on the team,” Dorian commented, back in the dormitory. He was, as usual, lounging on his four poster and observing Harry, who in turn was leaning against the wooden post of his own four poster, opposite.

“Yeah,” he answered absently. His thoughts were lingering on the expressionless hazel eyes that had followed him from his entrance in the common room to the door of the dormitory.

“But you declined?”

Harry sighed. “Yes.” He was far too busy quietly rejoicing in his current unfamous life to pursue something that would undoubtedly bring him more attention. He was vividly aware that he was already receiving far more notice than he would have liked, perhaps due to Tom’s reputation.

He glanced up at Dorian. The frown on friend’s face vanished when their eyes met.

“What don’t you like about Chris?” Harry injected suddenly, bluntly, his curiosity growing wildly with every distasteful look they directed at the blond boy.

He received a surprised look, then a startled life. “You may find that Doyle isn’t quite as innocent as he seems.”

“What do you mean?”

“What I mean is that he is simply using you to get back onto Sluggy’s good side.”

Harry frowned at him, unsure of what he was supposed to make of this sudden news. Dorian sighed patiently and slid onto to the floor to sprawl opposite Harry.

“It’s already about the castle that Slughorn is taken with you, mainly because you’ve been adopted by Tom.”

He raised a hand at Harry’s protests.

“The thing is, you are with Tom. Whether you’ve accepted it yet or not, Tom has picked you out and everyone is aware of it. That aside, Doyle most likely believes that, with you by his side, he’ll be welcomed back into the circle of favorites.”

“I suppose you’re in that?”

“Naturally. Anyone considered close to Tom is immediately in.”

Harry snorted. “Of course.”

They paused.

“What did he do to… er, leave the circle?”

Doyle merely waved a hand. “That’s irrelevant.”

“Even so, that doesn’t explain your dislike of him. Somehow I doubt it’s because he’s trying to use me.”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s personal.”

Harry frowned. “Alright.”

“Anyway, you might want to stay away from him.”

Harry dragged himself up to sprawl on the four poster. “What for?” He could feel Dorian’s incredulous expression.

“I don’t really care what he does. Besides, I like him; I don’t exactly lose or gain anything either way. And as far as I’m concerned, I doubt Tom has ‘adopted’ me simply for my personality.”

“Not everyone in this house is out for their own personal gain.”

Harry stared at him. Finally he sighed. “I know. Sorry.”

Finding the floor uncomfortable, Harry toed of his shoes and climbed onto the four-poster. He looked up to find himself under the Slytherin’s scrutiny, which made him shift awkwardly, feeling suddenly self-conscious.

Dorian got up and crawled onto Harry’s bed, sitting alongside him and mimicking his sprawl.

Harry turned his face to look at him. They’re faces were inches apart, and he was immediately engaged by the other boy’s ridiculously blue eyes.

They kissed, and Harry vaguely remembered their conversation about being used. But frankly, when he was messing around with Dorian like this, he didn’t care. He knew what they were doing. It was more of a game than anything else.

He only laughed when Dorian pushed him forcefully onto his back and rolled on top of him.

It was later, when he lying on his own in the dark, gazing up at the black ceiling, that Harry felt an ounce of betrayal towards Christopher Doyle.


*


By morning Harry was vaguely aware of the dream that had once again returned, and had, he found to his dismay, again left behind a mess on his sheets. Try as he might, he could not recall the face of the dream-stranger that had visited him, but the person (and Harry was certain it was a he) had come accompanied with an unaccountable amount of pleasure.

Harry could only acknowledge silently, as he followed Tom down to breakfast, that it most likely wasn’t the last time the dream would visit him.

Of course, the first subject that he was to start in turned out to be his least favourite: double potions. Fortunately, he had Tom’s help to rely on, as well as Cedrella’s, who was apparently brilliant at potions and had listened to him explain beforehand that he had never been correctly taught in the subject.

So it was that he sat in between Cedrella and Tom on the back row in the potions classroom, staring confusedly at the instructions on the board and wondering how long it would take for Tom to get fed up with his incompetence.

“Don’t worry, I’ll help you,” Cedrella said reassuringly, apparently noticing his puzzled expression. As far as Harry could tell, the potion they were meant to be making was a weaker version of the future’s Veritaserum, which he hardly knew how to brew anyway.

Tom, on his other side, merely gave him an amused look.

“This is the latest version of truth serum,” Cedrella was saying. “Father says it is absolutely useless; it does the same job and takes longer to brew.”

“The effects are supposed to last longer, I’ll assume,” Tom said, standing up to fetch the ingredients. Each student had their own cauldron.

“Yes, but the problem is, they don’t. Why do they think adding Unicorn hair will prolong the effect? It’s only meant to be used in healing potions.”

Someone in the front row turned round to answer, since Tom had wandered off.

“I think they think it reacts with the roots, so long as it has a chemical base.”

“Perhaps, but the entire thing cancels out when you add the Wormwood.”

“No, no, that reacts with the Skrewt’s blood before it can mess the rest up. That’s why you put them in first.”

Harry started at the boy, utterly lost. The boy grinned at him. “Potions not your favorite subject?”

“Um, no, I just had a crappy teacher,” Harry answered solemnly as Tom returned.

“What, did they refuse to explain anything, or something?”

“Something like that. They could have, but I’m not their favorite person in the world.”

“I’ll talk you through it,” Cedrella said. “Here, let’s set everything up. Right. First we need to make the base, which has to be chemical-”

“Why?”

“Sorry?”

“Why does it have to chemical?”

Cedrella stared. “They really didn’t explain much at all, then?”

Harry shifted uncomfortably.

“Okay, fine, right from the beginning. Every psychological potion needs a chemical base. I don’t know why. That’s just what they drill into us in our first Year. Now…”

Cedrella explained the purpose of every ingredient, why they needed to be put in at certain times, how each one reacted differently to the contents, and with Harry’s concentration and many amusing remarks from Tom, he got the hang of it. For once, he admitted to himself, he was enjoying and actually understanding the subject. This could partly be due to the fact that he didn’t have a greasy Potions Master leaning over his shoulder.

“Okay, that looks about right,” Cedrella said towards the end, staring intently at the substance in Harry’s cauldron and then turning towards hers.

Professor Slughorn then announced that they could test their potions on the person to their right, on the condition that they asked responsible questions and kept the antidote handy.

Tom, on Harry’s right, gave him a sly look. Cedrella smirked at Harry. Thank Merlin he had taken the vow before it was too late, Harry thought. Otherwise he might go blurting his and Tom’s secrets all over the school.

Harry edged his chair away from the narrow-eyed look Tom was giving him.

“Here you are.” Cedrella said, scooping up some of the transparent slop from her cauldron into a small vial. She handed it to Harry, who took it reluctantly. “Knock it back,” she said.

Harry did. He made a face, it tasted awful. He turned to Cedrella, who was giving him an intent look.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

“Harry James Potter,” he answered automatically.

“When were you born?”

Harry panicked. “Thirty-first of July.”

“What Year?”

Harry could feel Tom watching him. He opened his mouth, under the influence of the truth potion, but no sound came out, due to the vow.

“Um,” he said eventually.

Cedrella frowned. “What is it?”

They also had the attention from the boy in front. “Maybe there’s a problem with the potion,” he suggested, unwisely.

Cedrella scowled fiercely at him.

“I don’t know. Ask another question,” Harry said.

She looked thoughtful, then smirked slightly and said, “What do you think of Dorian Rosier?”

Harry cocked his head to the side. He answered carefully, “He’s very Slytherin.”

Tom snorted.

Cedrella smiled. “Do you fancy him?”

“In what way?”

“In a sexual way.”

“Who doesn’t?”

She laughed and handed him the antidote. “Well answered.”

Harry knocked it back, tried not to gag at the taste, and then turned to Tom.

“You know, if I hadn’t had help, this would probably kill you,” Harry said thoughtfully as he handed his vial of potion to Tom.

The boy in front snickered.

Tom looked at him intently, with the hint of a smile. “Would you care?”

“Of course not.”

Tom smirked at him. He drank it.

Harry stared at him, wondering what to ask. He decided to take the Cedrella route. “What do you think of Dorian Rosier?”

Tom looked contemplative. “He has a very talented mouth,” he mused.

Harry laughed at him.

“Do you fancy him?”

“In what way?” Tom mimicked.

“In a sexual way.”

“Oh yes.”

Cedrella was laughing behind him. Harry smiled. “Alright, here you go,” he handed him the antidote.


*


A glance at his new time-table told Harry that he was granted with a free period before Transfigurations. He was wandering through the castle aimlessly, after lunch, as he had been doing lately when he heard what was undoubtedly a heated argument going on in an empty classroom, which turned out, surprisingly, to be Charlus Potter scolding his quiet nephew.

Harry listened by the door.

“But who did you tell?” Charlus was saying, sounding agitated. He was probably towering over his second year nephew, who Harry remembered was small and quiet, if not shy.

“No one, I didn’t tell anyone.”

“But you must have. I certainly wouldn’t have, and who else knows, apart from the family? That leaves you.”

“But I didn’t. I don’t know how she found out. She must have eaves-dropped.”

“Look, this isn’t getting us anywhere. No one must find out, do you hear? Or that’s my reputation down the drain. I swear, if I find out you told…”

“I didn’t, I promise.”

“Yes, well, remember that I can easily obliviate you, should it come to that.”

There was pause. Harry was scowling fiercely. Why would a Potter threaten their own nephew over a secret?

“Is that what you did to her?” Henry said quietly.

“What?”

“Did you obliviate her?”

“Obviously. I couldn’t just let her go around blurting it out to everyone.”

After a moment, Charlus’ tone changed. He said consolingly, “Now, you know that I trust you, don’t I?”

Harry gaped.

“Yes, of course.”

“Good. Just keep quiet, the way you usually do. Don’t blurt anything out. And stay away from that ‘new’ Potter. I don’t know how much he knows.”

“He… he helped me out, the other day.”

“I don’t care, just stay away from him. This is too important.”

Harry took his cue to leave. He silently left the corridor for the dungeons, thinking.
What reason would a seventeen year old Potter have for threatening to obliviate their twelve year old nephew in order to keep something quiet? It made Harry think of how he was related to both those Potters. Was Charlus James’ father? He didn’t know, but he hoped not. Mostly, Harry felt disappointed.

When he was nearing the dungeons he found Chris walking towards him with an irritated expression which vanished when his eyes landed on Harry.

“Hello,” the blond boy said, seeming to force a smile.

“What’s wrong?” Harry replied genuinely.

“Oh, nothing, just that prattish friend of yours.”

“Tom?” Harry asked worriedly.

“No, the other. Rosier.”

“What was he doing?”

“Nothing much, just trying to manipulate me the way he usually does. Think nothing of it.”

Harry frowned. Dorian manipulating Chris?

“Hey, do you want to go for a walk?”

“Sure, why not,” Harry said agreeably. He had an hour or so left.

“Let’s go outside, then. The weather’s nice.”

They were wandering at a slow pace along the edge of the lake, chatting, when Chris said,

“I still can’t believe you wont play as seeker. You’re quite brilliant.”

Harry smiled, feeling his cheeks grow warm. “Thanks, but I just…”

“Don’t want the attention, I know.”

Harry shrugged. “What’s the current team like?”

“Oh, it’s alright. At least, it will be when I find a seeker. Look, the nearest match is in two weeks, and if I haven’t got one… will you play? Just for that game.”

Harry sighed, but couldn’t resist the earnest look the blond boy was sending him. “Oh, fine. But just that match.”

Chris grinned at him, happily. “Good. Very good. I think, with you, we could easily thrash Ravenclaw.”

“What’s their seeker like?”

“That would be Sam Archer. He’s good, but too heavy.”

“He can’t be that great with dives, then?”

“Exactly, and maneuvering, but he has brilliant eyesight. Let’s sit here.”

They sprawled out on a grassy bank, not far from the Forbidden Forest. The last day or two were marginally hot, for October.

“Mind if I take my shirt off?” Chris said absently. He rolled it into a ball and lay back, using it as a pillow.

Harry contentedly observed him, while he played with a blade of grass. Chris certainly wasn’t lacking, body-wise.

“What?” he mused, catching Harry observing him.

Harry smiled. “Nothing.”

They stared at each other for a moment.

“Will you go with Hogsmeade with me this weekend?” Chris asked suddenly.

Harry was taken aback. He wondered if the Slytherin meant as friends, or…

“Unless you’re going with Riddle, or someone.”

Harry smiled. “I’m not. Sure, I’ll go with you.” He received a slightly relieved look.

Chris smiled. “Good.”

*


Harry’s Transfigurations class with Professor Dumbledore was certainly interesting. The man’s beaming eccentricity and infinite knowledge applied to Transfiguration certainly left Harry bemused by the end.

He was called back after class.

“I trust your lessons so far have been satisfactory?”

Harry smiled. “They’ve certainly been interesting.”

“And how are you getting on with your classmates?”

“Very well, thank you, Professor.”

“Good, good. Has that vow come in handy?”

Harry told him about the Veritaserum.

“Ah, we were just in time, then. Very well, it is good to know you are fitting in.”

Harry was soon dismissed. The rest of the class had already left, and he was alone once more. In daydreaming he soon found that he was subconsciously making his way toward Gryffindor tower. Cursing silently, he began to make the long trip down to the dungeons.

A sound in the corridor made him stop in his tracks. He knew what it was. In the classroom nearby, someone, or someones, were panting.

He could see from where he was that the door was half open, and in walking pass he would be able to see the suspects. Well, there was nothing for it. This was the quickest way to the dungeons.

It was Tom. He was leaning over a boy, in fact the same boy who had sat next to him in Transfigurations, and with his hands gripping the panting boy’s thighs, was thrusting into him carelessly.

Harry soon managed to recover his composure. He was shocked. He was near horrified. Most of all, he was hurt, and it was this that led him to keep his face completely blank when Tom’s eyes rose and met his.

Harry raised a mocking eyebrow, and then darted away.