"Peverell!" shouted Flint, as he made his way over to the group; Harry looked up curiously, wondering what the seventh year could possibly be wanting with him. Noticing that the others continued to board the train, which did surprise him slightly since they rarely left him alone. "Where's your trunk? If you leave it in the Dorms you won't find it there when you get back. Everything left behind gets thrown out by the House-elves. Do you need me to summon it for you?" he asked seriously, he took his duty as Head Boy very seriously, and despite the fact Hadrian was a third year, he had been watching out for him like a first year due to it being his first year at Hogwarts.
"I've got it here," Harry said gesturing towards his bag, "Where I'm going it's probably the safest if nobody sees what's inside it."
"True," Flint mused thoughtfully, "Alright, get on the train before it starts moving. Lets go!" he shouted to the others, once he was sure everyone was on the train he stepped on himself, he flicked his wand and the doors shut and heard them lock for the journey, keeping the students aboard the train safe.
Harry blinked normally it took ages for everyone to settle down into the train, it took forever to find a compartment to sit in. Had he really been that late onto the train that he had missed the rush? No, he was normally one of the last ones on the train at any rate, shaking off his inconsequential thoughts; he couldn't keep comparing Hogwarts here to Hogwarts in the future. Although how could he help it? Not only were the Slytherins much different from what he knew the classes and teachers were as well. It was depressing to think that the Slytherins he was friends with weren't around in his future, so many people died before his time, it was baffling to say the least, since he knew they could live up to over one hundred years old, just look at Dumbledore and Doge.
Wandering along the train, rolling his eyes feeling bitterness stewing in his stomach at the happiness and squeals of excitement he could hear from within the compartments he passed. He hated how despite the fact he was mentally older; he still felt like a thirteen year old, felt the same things he had during his real third year at Hogwarts. It seemed no matter what he did, he just couldn't find happiness. It was rather depressing, and he couldn't find it within himself to cheer up.
"Hadrian! We're down here," Nott yelled down at him, making his way a few feet from the compartment to wait for him, which wasn't long seen as Harry wasn't dragging a heavy trunk behind him. "Don't worry about the silence, it's normally like that on the way home," he warned him, telling him to keep his mouth shut without outright saying anything - ever the Slytherin.
"I doubt I'm going to be much of a conversationalist myself, Thaddeus." Harry murmured, knowing why the compartment was going to be silent.
Nott nodded his understanding; they all knew that Hadrian was going to an orphanage. He had no family left, so it had been obvious to them before Hadrian had said anything. They weren't going to be able to write to him, they couldn't risk exposing the owls to the dangers of the Muggle war. Contrary to popular believe, owls weren't just used for delivering mail for the Slytherin's, they also had special attachments to their owls, and they were familiars after all. None of the Slytherins had cats or heaven forbid toads within their dungeons. Sliding into the compartment, he sat himself down on the opposite side from Tom, and right next to Nott who was sitting beside Lestrange and leaned against the window, gazing out at the platform. Why was he even considering this? It was utter madness, he was going to bloody London, in the middle of the Blitz, he was utterly insane, and surely there was no other word for it.
Then far too quickly the train began to move, picking up speed as it clacked against the tracks, moving them hastily towards platform nine and three quarters. So Tom was giving everyone the silent treatment then, he would have said it was pretty childish if he hadn't done the same thing, he'd barely ever spoke on the train ride back to the Dursley's. Sighing softly, he brushed his knuckles against his face, he felt as if his stomach wanted to jump out of his belly, he didn't think he'd ever been so nervous about anything - not even the trial for using underage magic. Someone from the orphanage was going to be waiting for him, or someone from the Ministry was going to take him to the orphanage, he wasn't sure which one comforted him at the moment.
Harry's gazed moved from the scenery to Tom, observing the teenager, he had his head buried in a book, his posture was relaxed and unbothered, but if he knew anything about Tom Riddle - it would be that he absolutely loathed returning to the Orphanage every year. He hated it so much that he had begged Dippet to remain behind, anything to save himself from having to return to a war infested country. If he really was relaxed right now, he would honestly hand over all his galleons. Tom still hadn't admitted to the fact he was going to be there too, so offering to share the ride to the orphanage was definitely out of the question. He couldn't deny he was wary of their meeting at the orphanage, he didn't think the others knew, and he would never want them to know something he considered as a weakness. The fact that he knew would be something intolerable to the control freak teenager.
They were striking alike, twice over if you will, and for some reason that didn't cause Harry the same concern it had when he was twelve years old.
"Are you doing anything special this summer?" Harry asked the others, ignoring the dumbstruck looks on their faces.
"No, not really," Lestrange admitted his gaze sliding over to Tom's temporary before landing on Harry. "With Grindelwald's forces it's being recommended that we don't travel anywhere. We normally go to France or Italy during the summer, but we haven't been for a few years due to the upheaval." he had to hand it to Peverell, he had guts in spades, the worst of it was that Tom never did anything to him either! They could have imagined scenarios like that and ending up being cursed.
"He isn't recruiting here?" Harry asked, his face blank revealing nothing, he knew they all assumed he had been attacked by Grindelwald or Grindelwald's men before he Apparated half dead to Hogsmeade. He had done nothing to indicate otherwise and it would remain so forever how long he stayed in this time.
"Why would he do that?" Avery scoffed; "He has those at Durmstrang, they learn more than we do at Hogwarts." he scowled here just thinking about it.
"Why would that bother you? Don't you get taught Dark Arts at home? It's much better that way anyway; you don't have the teachers keeping an eye on you just waiting to expel you like they did Grindelwald." Harry shrugged, finding it entirely stupid. Draco had complained about it as well, it was rather annoying when he thought about it. "Plus learning the Dark Arts too early can screw with your magical core, why do you think Hogwarts doesn't teach it to the lower years?"
"Grindelwald was expelled?" Nott choked out, gazing at Hadrian in shock how the hell did he know such a thing?
"Yup, from Durmstrang, delved too much into the Dark Arts and they couldn't control him anymore, kicked him out," Harry revealed, so that wasn't popular information, oops, he would have to watch what he was saying. "Here's another piece of information for you, he's the same age as Dumbledore."
"How in Merlin's balls do you know that?" Avery said his voice filled with awe, looking at the teenager in a new light.
All of them came under the wrong conclusion that he had fought Grindelwald himself all those months ago, and not just his men. Of course, Harry was oblivious to this, as he continued conversing with them.
"Newspapers, the Daily Prophet to be exact," Harry confessed wryly, smirking at them. And they could find all the information they would need by going and looking through all old versions of the Daily Prophet, although maybe not at Hogwarts - Dumbledore had gone to great lengths to wipe that part of his history from the magical world - so nobody would find out just what he had been up to in his teenage years naughty, naughty Dumbledore. He didn't necessarily want them to find the information, no, he planned on using it if he ever needed to. He wasn't sure how far Dumbledore would go during his school years with him being a Slytherin and not a goody two shoe Gryffindor this time around. So it would be nice to have a handy bit of blackmail material. To share his blackmail material with other Slytherins was just madness. The information wasn't glaringly there, so they wouldn't find it unless they really dug.
"He must have delved really badly into them for Durmstrang to expel him," Nott commented, "I've never heard of anyone being expelled for that reason."
"I wouldn't know my information on Durmstrang is sketchy at best, I only know that the location is kept secret, and that it's in an area that's freezing cold - have you seen their school uniforms? - and their penchant for having more Dark wizards coming out of their school." Harry said thoughtfully. "I would say the majority of them are actually grey to be honest," at least they had been in his time. Krum was a prime example of that, and he wasn't prejudice either, how he wasn't was a bloody wonder. "Oh, and they don't let Muggle-Borns into the school either, although I cant say if it's the same for Half-blood's."
Avery, Lestrange, Nott and Carrow blinked at the vicious smirk that appeared on Hadrian's face - they couldn't help but wonder what the hell he was thinking about. It was quite scary how similar Tom and Hadrian could be, yet completely different at the same time.
"Just Mudblood's," Avery stated.
"Just Mudblood's," Harry scoffed, "We are all magical Avery, our world is infinitesimal compared to the Muggle world, and we shouldn't disparage them. Especially when it's obvious some of them are smarter and more powerful than old blood."
"You dare-" Avery started.
"I dare, I've seen Muggle-born students more powerful and smarter than the house of Crabbe and Goyle…hell even Crouch, in fact one of the so called Muggle-Borns is ahead of you in four classes, and someone that's only known about the magical world for three years is beating you, a wizard who has always known about your magical abilities. The rampant prejudice is bloody stupid if you ask me, I mean honestly what is your problem with them?" Harry asked, leaning around Lestrange to see Avery who had moved seats sometime earlier. "Well?"
"All our holidays are being changed to suit the disgusting Mudblood's," snapped Avery in disgust. "They come here and change everything; it's not fair they should be changing for us! It's our world."
"How long has that been happening?" Hadrian enquired, surprised by the answer. "How long has it been since Christmas was called Yule? How long has it been since All Hallows Eve was called Halloween?"
"Too long! Long standing traditions in our world have been reduced to petty Muggle things." Avery spat.
"You can't answer me can you? You picked up your belief from your parents I'd guess," Harry cried out exasperated. "You are clearly operating under the belief that we created the pagan holidays."
"It's our holidays," Lestrange pointed out, squinting at Harry as if he was something strange.
"Really? Well let me tell you something, paganism was celebrated by everyone, Muggle and Witch or wizard alike, this was well before there was a proper magical community, people with magic just hid who they were. Then Christianity was on the rise, and quickly before anyone knew it, the Pagan celebrations were changed to fit the new religion, Imbolc was forgotten, Beltane celebrated by some still but back then it was done under the cover of darkness for fearing being found out, Samhain became Halloween they mocked the religion by making it a day of dressing up as witches and other creatures. Lughnasadh is another one that was swept under the rug. The only ones that are really remembered in any capacity by our world are the equinox and the solstices. It's our fault that our own custom has been forgotten, not the Muggles, they and we adapted to survive the fucking crusades that swept over the lands. It's ridiculous that the Muggles have kept up on their history better than we have. Hell they even changed the dates of their own religion to suit the pagan holidays to make it easier. Jesus Christ wasn't born on Christmas day they shifted it just to fit in with their new world." Harry ground out harshly, before sighing in defeat. It was beginning to feel like an impossible task to get everyone to stop blaming the Muggle-born's. "If you want something done start petitioning to get the pagan holidays reinstated in the magical world. It's hardly our fault the Muggle-born's don't understand the true values and traditions of the pagan rites, they aren't gifted with the books that go down the family line so we can actually remember what things were like.
The remainder of the ride was spent in utter silence, not a single word was spoken.
They were quite frankly speechless.
The niggling of doubt had been set, what remained to be seen was whether they took it to heart.
-------------
Harry said quick goodbye's to the rest of the third year Slytherins as he passed them on the train or the platform, he stopped at the gateway for what felt like hours but in reality it was only a few seconds before he summoned up his courage and passed through. The difference was immediately noticeable, the windows in the train station was blacked out, with some sort of mesh material pinned up against it, presumably to save it from shattering. Everyone was hurrying along as if they were expecting an attack at any given moment. There wasn't a single smiling face amongst them, they were clearly terrified but stood tall and continued on with their lives refusing to bow down to Hitler and the Germans who were bombing them. It was the faces of the children that got to him most, they were clearly hungry, tired and most importantly bored.
"Mr. Peverell?" questioned a man Harry would guess was in his forties.
"Yes?" Harry asked cautiously, gazing at the man, there wasn't a sign that he was a wizard but he knew some were better at fitting in than others.
"My name is John Smith, I'm taking you to the orphanage," he explained, "Do you have any luggage?"
"Um…no," Harry murmured, and he quickly began to walk beside the stranger as they walked towards a car, or at least a version of it. There was no roof, just a screen it was like those old ancient things he'd seen on posters, although the black thing at the back might have been the equivalent of a roof though. He opened the door and Harry quietly slid in, clutching his bag close feeling extremely lost in this time. Swallowing thickly as he caught sight of the gas mask, bloody hell, why was he doing this? He thought as his heartbeat shot through the roof, trembling slightly his breath shallow.
He had walked to his own certain death, yet being here made him feel petrified. London had received the most damage because that was where the Germans had wanted to hit. Coventry was almost obliterated, if he remembered correctly, but his information could be wrong he'd only read a little about world war two in primary school and it wasn't as if the teachers were going to scare the hell out of children by informing them what really happened during war.
As they drove (slower than cars could in future - a lot slower) he noticed a blue police box sitting on the corner, and his lips twitched slightly in amusement. It reminded him of the show that Dudley liked so much, Dr. Who, although Vernon and Petunia had pitched a fit, they hated anything remotely resembling not normal or worse slightly magical. And what could be more magical than a time-travelling Doctor who dealt with aliens in the heart of London? Well most of the time, from what he had seen while cleaning it was always London.
His mind didn't dwell on that for long, as he began to notice other things, like sandbagged buildings, the most stand out one was the police station. He had noticed a lot around the train station as well, but he hadn't thought much of them, so that's what they did with them. He'd only ever seen them used for one thing - putting around doorsteps when tides came in and flooding people's houses. It was on the news from time to time, but nothing too bad of course. Then they left the busy area of London and into the…less well off area, although how he could tell he honestly couldn't say, since everything was boarded up and just…empty really everything seemed empty.
Then they drove to the left and he saw the orphanage, it was like one big sense of déjà vu, he opened his mouth to beg the guy to take him back to the train station, but nothing would come out instead he just swallowed the lump in his throat as he stared at the matron of Wool's orphanage who was standing at the front steps, her face like stone as she watched the car. There were children of all ages running around, the entire area was bleak and desolate.
"There's no need to get out," Harry said hastily, opening the door and sliding out, "Thank you."
"You're welcome," John said dipping his hat slightly before he began to reverse slowly from the orphanage gates and leaving Harry in what he felt were the gates of hell not the Muggle world. Taking a deep breath, straightening his spine, and slowly turned around and started walking towards the woman he knew to be Mrs. Cole, the woman who ran the orphanage (or rather the matron).
"You must be Hadrian Pevriell, such a strange name," Mrs. Cole said, observing the teenager.
"It's Peverell, ma'am," Harry corrected her, remaining polite despite himself, biting down the urge to state that her name was strange, but the words she said to him were very similar to what she said to Dumbledore when he was enquiring about Tom Riddle - strange boy.
"Follow me," she stated curtly, her eyes darkening slightly.
Harry lay on the iron bedstead, in a squashed but very clean room, it was clearly meant to be a single, but was being used for two anyway. Two shabby mismatched wardrobes were at the side of the room, it was better than a cupboard, as for the bed and wardrobe he was used to second hand things - his so called family hadn't wanted to spend anything on him and gave him old stuff to use. The Dursley's weren't shy on punishing him either, scowling as the pain ebbed on his hands, stupid bitch, well he had made sure she got absolutely no satisfaction from it - he hadn't even twitched once. She'd used a bloody thick wooden switch to 'punish' him for taking back. As it stood now his hands were absolutely killing him. Bright red and throbbing painfully. He was not allowed any lunch, and wasn't to come out of his room until dinner. All because he'd told her how to say his name properly.
The small window was entirely blacked out; a small flickering weak bulb was all that lit the room. Of course, he missed Hogwarts already. Hell he missed the Slytherins even Avery; he wasn't going to be able to stay here for two months that was just going to be utterly impossible. He didn't have any potions to take away the pain in his arms, he vowed to himself to brew the potions he might need next year at Hogwarts. Although he certainly wouldn't be coming back here, that's for damn certain. He would be legally emancipated, which meant he could do whatever the hell he liked come his fifteen birthday and nobody not even the Headmaster (as fond as he was of him, seen as he was different from Dumbledore).
Harry was jerked awake by the door banging open so suddenly, cluing him in on the fact he had actually fallen asleep in this muggle hell! But it shouldn't have surprised him really, since he hadn't been sleeping well.
"What are you doing in here?" Tom Riddle hissed.
"Tom?" Harry asked, sounding confused. Sitting up and rubbing at his eyes as if he couldn't quite believe it only to wince in pain at his forgotten wounds.
"Hadrian?" Tom said barely hiding his surprise.
"Tom?" Harry echoed once more, "What are you doing here?"
"I live here." Tom told him his voice cold and empty.
"Oh, I don't suppose you can show me to the toilets or something? My hands are killing me," Harry asked him, he wasn't about to make a big deal about it, in fact he honestly couldn't. He was too tired, too scared and he bloody hurt, the last thing he wanted to do was go on and on about stuff he already knew.
"What happened?" Tom asked suspiciously, grasping a hold of one, leading it up towards the small weak light from the lightbulb.
Harry hissed out in pain trying and failing to yank his hand back. "Let go." he demanded, but Tom didn't, he just adjusted his grip so he wasn't actually pressing down where the bloody bitch had hit him.
"What did you do?" Tom enquired, his eyes flashing dangerously, he was quite frankly furious that she had dared to hurt Hadrian. Oh, he knew good and well who it was, she had done it to him often enough. Gritting his teeth, he hated this place, he couldn't wait until he was old enough to leave and never return. Two months he was going to have to endure of hell before he could go back to the safety of Hogwarts. Even the knowledge that he was at least getting away from the orphanage for nearly a year wasn't as consoling since he had no idea if he would even be alive to return.
"The matron said my name wrong," Harry explained, shrugging his shoulders lightly, "I told her how to say it right, and she took me to her office and started whacking me with a switch. Sounds to me like she was just waiting for an opportunity to do it, it wasn't as if I was nasty, I was actually rather polite. She called me Pivrell!" his tone indignant.
"She likes putting new orphans in their place," Tom said distastefully, "Come on, lets get you fixed before dinner." with that Tom dragged Harry out of the bedroom.
Harry gaped the entire way; Tom Marvolo Riddle was actually helping him? Going out of his way to help him? Instead of just telling him where to go? Why? That was very out of character even for him! He wanted to giggle at the looks the other orphans were giving Tom, they were terrified of him, they were avoiding him like the plague going so far as to run back down the corridor. Sighing out in relief as his hands were placed under the cooling water, blinking as the long nimble fingers caressed the sore hands, was Tom even aware of what he was doing? He could feel Tom's magic working itself into his skin, numbing the area completely. Natural healer or just powerful? Probably the latter. Looking at Tom, he watched him closely, but the teenager was concentrating on his task completely, Harry felt a strange pang in his chest. He'd always known he was good looking, but he'd never seen him attentive to something.
He wasn't sure what it was, but it made him feel something he wasn't familiar with. It completely eluded him but a bell ringing had him jumping and freezing his mind going blank was that an air raid siren?
"It's just the bell for dinner," Tom stated, seeing Hadrian freeze like a rabbit caught in the headlights. He'd obviously understood his reason as he slowly unfroze and relaxed - well slightly since he was tense but he couldn't comment since he too was tense. Although less so than Hadrian and that wound him up, he didn't like seeing him that way. He had dreaded so much getting back to the orphanage, not sure what the hell he would think of Hadrian seeing where he had grown up - having that power over him that he could tell the others. The urge to threaten and curse him had overwhelmed him completely. Then when he stepped foot in his room to find it occupied since the orphanage had taken in a lot of newcomers due to people losing parents and families with the bombs dropping down on them. Only to realize that it was Hadrian and he hadn't even made a single remark. He was the closest thing he had to a friend, although he knew he desired Hadrian more than just a friend, and he was determined to have him. Then all thoughts of cursing and threatening him had left him when Hadrian had told him his hands were sore, and he had known before seeing it what had happened. The urge to kill the matron was very strong, but as always he never displayed that anger or actually did anything about it - one day though he would kill her. For hurting Hadrian alone, he would absolutely make sure she regretted lifting it once against him.
If this was him now, what was he going to be like by the time seven came around and the Air Raid Siren began to blare?