Harry Potter and the Time Fluke

Fifth Year

Harry watched the Scottish countryside fly by. He was on his was back to Hogwarts to begin his fifth year as a Slytherin student. The past four years hadn't held any of the dangerous excitement that his previous school life had given, and he didn't mind it in the least. He enjoyed the quiet normality of it all. He had even refrained from joining the Quidditch team in order to keep any possible unwanted attention towards his skills on a broom at bay. It truly was blissful, being able to experience Hogwarts again as a normal person rather than the Boy-Who-Lived.

As he watched a melding of greens and browns flicker past, he listened to his friend, Dmitry, speak animatedly about his summer experiences. His mother and father had taken him back to Russia to visit his extended family. It was the first time he had been able to see them in years, so Harry couldn't blame Dmitry for being ecstatic in his descriptions. He crossed his arms over his lithe body and sent a small smile Dmitry's way as the blonde boy recounted yet another lavish ball he'd attended with his cousins. Even though Harry hadn't played as a Seeker since before he'd traveled back in time, he still retained all the quick reflexes and grace that the position had helped him hone. He was also still the shortest in his group of friends, though not by much.
The grin flipped into a frown as his mind wandered to Tom. The older boy had disappeared for a day that summer and when Harry had angrily demanded where he'd been, Tom had nonchalantly claimed that he'd been to Diagon Alley, ran into Abraxas, been abducted back to Malfoy Manor for dinner, and ended up spending the night because by the time the whole affair was over, it was past the time he was supposed to be back at Wool's. Harry had accepted the answer at the time, not wanting to push it, but he knew it wasn't what really happened, and it bothered him. Tom had rarely ever lied to him throughout the time they'd known each other, and whenever he had, it was because he though Harry would disapprove of the truth.

Sometimes when Harry caught Tom lying, he let it slide and allowed himself to forget about it, thinking it would possibly be better for him not to know, and continued living his life normally. But he couldn't forget; not this time. Not when Tom had... changed. That was the only way Harry could put it. Around Harry, he appeared to be normal, but when he didn't know the other boy was around, his eyes became colder and his aura darkened. It reminded Harry too much of the Tom Riddle from Dumbledore's memories and he knew that he'd have to do something before Lord Voldemort could be born. And whatever it was linked back to that day. If he wanted to find out what had changed Tom and how to stop it from spreading, killing the boy he'd befriended years ago, he'd need to figure out what really occurred the day he visited "Diagon Alley."

It was to the scene of Dmitry reenacting the tales of his summer and Harry lounging on the bench of their small compartment that the objet of Harry's current thoughts, along with his two counterparts, decided to make an appearance.

"Bloody McGonagall thinks she can order us around just because she's got the title of 'Head Girl' under her belt now," Orion grumbled, dropping unceremoniously on the seat next to Dmitry. Abraxas mirrored Orion's movements wordlessly, but in a more graceful manner. He hadn't been made a prefect, but Orion had obviously caught him somewhere further down the train from Harry and Dmitry's compartment and forced the Malfoy heir into becoming the ear for his rant. Harry would have sniggered if not for Tom, who had followed behind them both, face void of emotion; an obvious sign that, he too, was not amused by the girl's antics.

"I mean, really. I thought that to become Head Girl or Head Boy you needed to at least be a bit unprejudiced towards other Houses, but man does she seem to have it in for us Slytherins!"

"McGonagall," Dmitry said slowly. "She is the Gryffindor prefect you were complaining about last year, correct?"

"Of course she was. Don't pretend to have forgotten, what with the way he complained about her non-stop until our ears began to bleed," Abraxas commented, examining his well-manicured fingers.