Chapter Text
Harry’s world spun around him, the white passing his line of sight so fast it was blinding. He had chosen to get on the train at King’s Cross. Call him a coward, but he couldn’t bring himself to go back to the battle, so many were already dead.
He had been given the opportunity to go somewhere, it could be somewhere better, it could be somewhere awful - Harry would take his chances, nothing could be worse than seeing Hogwarts crumbling around him.
Fate hated him. That was the thought circulating his mind as he was dropped at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, the aforementioned castle in front of him. At first, all he could see was remnants of the battle ground, broken stone and blood stains around him.
Thankfully, when he shook his head the image cleared and there stood Hogwarts. The day was bright but chilled, Harry would guess it was early autumn, nearing the start of the school year.
He was dressed differently than he had been in the station, there was no muggle clothing, instead he was dressed in a plain black robe. Unassuming. Shaking his head and resigning himself to his fate, he headed towards the castle’s entrance.
In the hall that he had first stepped into as an overwhelmed eleven year old, he stopped a passing Ravenclaw girl who he estimated was a fourth year. He couldn’t remember ever seeing her, but he couldn’t claim he paid any particular attention to the younger years.
Trying to keep his expression friendly, a smile on his face, he asked her, “Could you show me to the headmaster’s office, please?”
He didn’t know what had changed since he got on the train and he was very aware how odd it would look if a random bloke was walking around in a school of children, unidentified.
His guide nodded but remained quiet, leading the way with silent assured steps.
Harry’s stomach dropped the further away they got from where Dumbledore’s office had been. The office had moved, who was headmaster? They stopped outside a rather unassuming door on the second floor, the girl gesturing to the door before heading off, probably to the library according to the muttering under her breath.
“Thank you!” Harry called to her before taking a second to compose himself and knock on the door.
“Enter,” A deep voice came from within the office, stepping in, the decor of the office was as plain as it’s entrance. Especially compared to Dumbledore’s that had clutter that whizzed and whirred on every shelf.
Approaching the desk, Harry faintly recognised the man sitting there. He was old and had white hair, his name was on the tip of his tongue - “Headmaster Dippet!”
But that meant…
Oh God.
Harry was in the 1940s. Harry was in the same building as Tom Riddle.
Dippet seemed impatient with having a seemingly incoherent stranger in his office, “Yes? Do I know you?”
Well he was obviously meant to be here, the train wouldn’t have brought him here if he wasn’t. But why was he here? His mouth started to move without his permission.
“Uh, no, Sir. I’m Harry Potter and I was wondering if I could transfer to Hogwarts? I was homeschooled, you see. And my remaining family were recently killed in a Grindelwald raid and I have nowhere else to go.”
The man seemed to age further before his eyes, a reminder that the war was at its height. He straightened in his chair, “Well, Mr. Potter. We’re not in the habit of accepting transfers and the scholarship fund for this year has been used -”
“Sir, I could pay -” Wait what? Why did he just say that? Just as he was beginning to berate himself for not thinking before speaking, an image appeared in his head, a memory. Yet it was impossible.
It was himself, in this time, going to a vault in Gringotts - a number clearly read and a key in his hand. What had happened when he stepped on that train?
Dippet’s eyes squinted at him, as if he could judge Harry’s intentions through stare alone, “Very well. You’re too late for the opening feast, so you’ll have to be sorted here and speak to the professors for the subjects you want to take for Newts. There’ll be a lot of paperwork to sign. Do you have your things?”
Well that was easy, “No, Sir. They’re in my Gringotts vault. I’d like to take Defence, Charms, Transfiguration, Potions and Arithmancy.” Harry thought sticking to the core subjects, plus Arithmancy which he had developed an interest in from Hermione whilst they were horcrux hunting, was a good decision.
A nod, “The elves can bring your things to whichever dorm you’re sorted to, with your permission, and I’ll arrange for the Professors to be here after dinner this evening. Now for your sorting,” He got up to retrieve the sorting hat, barely less battered than it had been last time.
Placing it on his head, Harry heard the hat’s voice once again, “Interesting, Potter. I’ve sorted you before and yet I haven’t.” Harry couldn’t begin to guess what that meant.
“Still it seems I can’t help but agree with myself, Slytherin would help you on the path to greatness. I can see in your mind that you’ve made some self-preserving choices recently. A Gryffindor would’ve stayed to fight, no?” What? No! He has to be a Gryffindor.
“It has to be SLYTHERIN!” Harry considered setting the dusty thing on fire, but Dippet retrieved it too quickly. Shame.
Dippet’s smile seemed to stretch, “Ah, perfect. I can have our headboy show you to the dorms and help you settle into the castle.” Pointing his wand at a stack of paper and a complicated motion later, it whizzed away, a trail of sparks behind it.
A few minutes of polite chat later, there was a knock on the door. “Come in, Tom.”
Tom?!-
Voldemort’s stupidly handsome face entered through the door, Harry wanted to curse it - though the same part of him that had been a little too happy to write in the diary when he was twelve, wanted to snog it.
“Mr. Riddle, meet Mr. Potter.” Harry startled from having a hand in front of his face, a mix of panic and instinct making him slap it away.
Baby Voldemort’s face twisted.
Harry shot up, “God, sorry!” He shook the hand far too quickly, nerves and disgust at touching Voldie fueling him.
The previously empty, smooth expression twisted into a smirk, “Tom’s fine.”
Harry began to nod, “Call me Har- wait, what?” Oh. “You’re such a narcissist Tom.”
Why did he say that? Riddle was going to kill him before they even left the office.
Tom did not murder him, though he did give him a strange look. “It was a joke, though I don’t see anything wrong with confidence.” He smiled and -
Harry wanted to snog - he meant slap - it off. He had been living in a tent for the past year, he was frustrated - sue him.
“Right. Well I’m Harry.” He tousled his hair, pulling at it slightly trying to stop his thoughts, making it even more of a mess.
Tom gestured for them to head out of the office, smiling innocently at the headmaster as they left. “Pleasure. You’re the new Slytherin I’m showing around? We don’t get a lot of transfers.”
Letting Tom lead them, staying half-a-step behind, he replied, “Yes, Dippet mentioned. I’m meeting with the professors later to arrange my schedule.”
Tom leaned into his space, pausing his steps, a smile on his face that left no doubt of his goal - it was filthy. “I’d love to come with you, maybe we’d be able to arrange for our classes to be together. It’s always good to have a…” His eyes roamed Harry’s body, hungry, and Harry had never felt more grateful that robes were relatively shapeless, “friend.”
A shudder wracked his body, forcing the most bland smile he could onto his face, looking ahead he said, “Of course. You can never have too many friends.”