Harry Potter and the Time Fluke

Getting Ready For Hogwarts

Tom stuck to his word. The next day, he rushed Harry through eating, dressing, and showering, in that order. Harry knew Tom was just overly excited to show him all the things the wizarding world had to offer that he wasn't able to before, but his enthusiasm was beginning to grate on Harry's nerves. Tom had woken him just barely after the sun had risen; too early for him to have to deal with Tom's abnormal morning-enthusiasm.
Harry moved slowly, even though Tom buzzed around him animatedly, hoping that it would calm the other boy down. Luckily, his plan worked and a much calmer Tom walked them out the orphanage towards the park from where they could go anywhere they liked. They didn't want to risk Mrs. Cole or another lady who worked at the orphanage spying them going off into the depths of London unsupervised from the front gates of Wool's. Neither boy had any desire to spend the rest of their summer locked away inside the stuffy building.

As they got closer to The Leaky Cauldron, Tom began to regain his excited personality, telling Harry about all the things the younger boy would get to do once the school year began. It didn't seem to matter to him that he'd written Harry about most of what he was explaining already many times over the past year, and Harry didn't interrupt. It was rare that Tom showed any emotion at the same level he had been doing that morning. Harry was treating it as if it was a special gift for him personally, smiling faintly, nodding, and making appropriate noises at the appropriate times.

One question that happened to drift into his mind was how he'd be able to get away from Tom to pretend to buy a wand. His real wand, the one from the future, was situated safely at the bottom of his messenger bag. He had retrieved it from his old rucksack earlier that morning when he pushed Tom out of his room, claiming that he couldn't get dressed properly if Tom was watching him. When Tom was out of the room, he'd removed two floorboards from under his bed which was where his magical possessions had been stored. While living at the Dursley's, he found that having removable floorboards to store things in was actually pretty useful. So he'd done the same thing and loosened the flooring in his new room.

"You'll just love Transfiguration, that's where you turn one thing into something else. Albeit, Dumbledore does teach the class, but it's still rather fun."

Harry glanced at Tom, offering a sentence for the first time. "You don't like Dumbledore that much?"

Tome grimaced. "I would like him more if he didn't favor those stupid Gryffindors over everyone else. It's not fair, some of the things they get away with. And their intelligence level is, collectively, most likely the lowest in the school. They place too much value in bravery and heroic deeds, and not enough in studying the right spells to keep them alive."

"What if I become a Gryffindor?" Harry pondered, remembering his time in Hogwarts and not disagreeing with Tom in the slightest. "What if the hat places me in that house?"

Tom walked silently for a few moments, deeply thinking about that outcome of events. "I've told you before, Harry, a bit about Slytherin politics. It's a kill-or-be-killed kind of house where the weak become servants to the strong. Therefore, when I'm at Hogwarts, I act a bit, well, differently than the 'me' you're used to seeing; I can't let my housemates see any of my weaknesses, Harry. I mean, to me it wouldn't really matter which House you're placed in because you're my best friend, but if you're not in Slytherin, for the sake of not being attacked by the rest of my housemates–verbally or magically–I might have to act... contemptibly towards you–but I wont really mean it. Would you hate me for it; for the way I'd treat you if you're sorted into Gryffindor?"

Harry knew that the Slytherins in his time were a nasty bunch when they wanted to be, and he was sure the original Death Eaters could be just as spiteful. And as much as he wanted to be by Tom's side in public, he wanted Tom to be safe in his house and not have to constantly check over his shoulder to make sure no one was pointing a wand at his head. And, since they had established friendship, Tom had never given Harry any reason to disbelieve in his kindness.

"I don't hate you, Tom. I could never hate you." Harry took a deep breath. I'm probably going to regret this later. "Even if you killed a thousand people, I don't think I'd really be able to truly hate you. I would probably become very annoyed with you, but you're my best friend. I don't think there's a thing you could do that would make me genuinely despise you."

The funny thing about that statement was that Harry really meant it, from the bottom of his heart. He'd steadily continued to get over the deaths of his parents and godfather, maturing, and watching Tom grow too. Being best friends for seven years and going through every hardship the world had thrown at them, helping each other when no one else extended a hand; their bond was as strong as the ones Harry had formed with Ron and Hermione, if not stronger.

Tom looked over at Harry and smiled warmly, grasping his hand and stringing their fingers together. "I don't think I could ever hate you either, Harry."

Harry gently swung their clasped hands back and forth.

"And if I am sorted into a different house, we can always rendezvous secretly in the middle of the night."

"I don't think so; the portraits would tell on us. They can travel into all the other frames in Hogwarts, you know. I think Professor Dippet has most of them spying on the inhabitants."

"Wouldn't they go to sleep at night?" Harry suggested, having snuck out of bed a fair enough number of times to know the portraits snored almost as loud as Ron.

"Maybe. I have passed by some during the day that were taking a nap. And I've heard some Gryffindors complaining about trying to get back into their common room but the portrait guarding the entrance was asleep."

"Then we should be able to meet up just fine."

"But there's also the teachers that are out on patrol, and the ghosts..."

"Fine," Harry huffed. "If Mr. Goody-two-shoes doesn't want to break a rule or two to meet up with his bestest friend in the whole world, we can just exchange secret glances from afar and communicate through simple letters written in our own special language that we create."

"And have an occasional reunion during the day in an abandoned classroom, possibly," Tom added, playing along with Harry's fantasy. "Oh, we're here."
Tom dropped Harry's hand and entered the small pub, holding the door open for the younger boy, who found himself missing the warmth of his friends palm pressed against his.

"This is the Leaky Cauldron," Tom stated matter-of-factly. "It's the entrance to Diagon Alley through the muggle world. Come on then, let's go."