Chapter Text
Henry Potter doodled absently on a scrap of parchment, watching his already transfigured mouse run around in tight circles. It stopped, sniffed at his pot of ink, and nosedived off the table. With his seeker reflexes, he managed to catch the suicidal rodent and gotten bitten hard on his finger as thanks.
“I liked you better as a quill,” Henry grumbled, sucking on his bloody finger. The mouse went back to spinning in circles.
“I think yours is defective,” Nance said helpfully.
“You’re defective,” Henry flicked his wand and the mouse turned back into a quill.
“Five points to Gryffindor,” Professor Dumbledore came over to his desk and picked up the quill. It let out a soft squeak.
“Could you stay back after class?” Dumbledore put the quill back down and studied Henry over his half-moon spectacles. The words made Henry suppress a shiver. In a poll, he was sure that Dumbledore would be voted most likely to use legilimency on students with those x-ray eyes. Henry purposedly thought of rainbows and kittens and not the fact that he hadn’t done his transfiguration homework.
“Sure thing, professor,” Henry said. Casting Nance a silent plea for help, he packed up his doodled notes, ink pot and quills.
“I’ll save you lunch,” Nance called back to him, filing out with the other students.
“You better,” Henry shoved his transfiguration book into his satchel. They were having sausages, English sausages, but still sausages. He made his way to the front of the class and dragged a chair over. Collapsing into it, he resisted the urge to put his feet up on Dumbledore’s desk.
“Whatever you think I did, it was probably Nance,” Henry said.
“I don’t doubt that,” Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled back at him, “but I actually wanted to talk about you.”
Henry quirked an eyebrow.
“Are you aware of Tom Riddle?”
Was he aware of the hottest guy in school? Possibly.
“I know of him,” Henry nodded slowly, “he beat the whole cohort in a duelling contest last year.” Henry had missed that lesson, stuck in the hospital wing with twenty-two broken bones in his arm. He had cursed the bludger that hit him with a slow, painful death from his bed.
“Ah yes he is quite the…gifted student,” Dumbledore said, “has he spoken to you recently?”
“Sorry, mate, didn’t see you.”
“Clearly,” the Slytherin prefect trailed his eyes over Henry’s body, narrowing at the sight of his bed hair and undone top buttons. His voice dripped with disdain. Henry hadn’t missed the muttered “thirty points from Gryffindor” from behind him.
“Is there a reason he might have?” Henry said, trying not to sound too hopeful. Sue him. He was only human.
Dumbledore sighed. He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “As your head of house, I feel that I have to warn you. I know how Tom can appear…but I assure you that appearances can be deceptive.”
“And what does that have to do with me?” As far as Henry was aware, he could count on one hand the number of times he had spoken with Riddle. There wasn’t a lot of cross over between Slytherin prefects and Gryffindor Quidditch stars. That didn’t mean he hadn’t heard the hushed whispers that followed the boy. Henry didn’t need Dumbledore to convince him that Tom was more than carefully controlled smiles and gifted crystalised pineapples.
“Oh, nothing I’m sure, my boy” Dumbledore said, “but I hope you will let me know if he reaches out to you.”
“I will make it my top priority,” Henry promised, wondering what the hell this was all about.
“You’re a bright young man,” Dumbledore smiled in what was probably a grandfatherly manner. It might have worked better if Henry remembered his grandparents.
“Thanks.”
“And I wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”
“Appreciated.”
“You have a good heart,” Dumbledore pat him on the shoulder, “and boys like Tom…I’d hate to see them take advantage of that.”
“Noted,” Henry leaned subtly away from the Deputy Head, “Can I leave now?”
“Of course,” Dumbledore said. As Henry sped walked over to the door, the professor called after him.
“And make sure you finish that transfiguration homework. It’s due tomorrow.”
Shit.
Henry broke out into a run once he was out of the classroom. He didn’t trust Nance’s self-constraint when it came to Hogwarts sausages. The house elves must put crack in those things. He rounded the corner and for the second time that week, nearly colliding with someone.
“Sorry,” Henry looked up from his feet, “oh hey again.” It was Riddle.
The Prefect was somehow glowering down at him even though they were the same height. Henry couldn’t resist looking him up and down. Did Riddle iron his ties? How many fingers would Henry lose if he messed it up? More or less than three. It might be worth it.
His gaze trailed down and landed on a small boy, hovering by the prefect. He was tiny. His hair was a birds nest of black curls and he had the biggest doe eyes. Something Nance and Whit had been gossiping about, rose to the surface of his mind.
“Wait let me guess, you’re Harry. I overheard some rumours about the little time traveller.” He knelt down onto the boy’s level.
Of course Tom had to have the cutest, little thing. Henry wanted to squish his cheeks. The boy stared at him suspiciously and it took everything in Henry not to openly coo. There was something familiar about the kid. Was this why Dumbledore wanted him to stay away from Tom? He didn’t need a fortune ball to recognise Potter hair.
Henry noticed the kid tense under his gaze and he put on his most serious face. “Now tell me, do the Chudley Cannons ever win the world cup?”
The soft giggle Harry let out made Henry melt.
“And that means, you’re Riddle,” he stood up and extended his hand, “not that you need to introduce yourself.”
Riddle closed his hand around Henry’s. It was cool and strangely calloused. He hadn’t pinned Tom as somehow who would get his hands dirty.
“I don’t think we’ve spoken. Henry Potter.”
“And yet we’re speaking now?” Riddle quirked an eyebrow. Merlin, he was so pretty.
“Yeah weird story,” Henry bounced on his toes. He explained about Dumbledore holding him back after class and Riddle’s eyes flashed.
“What exactly did he say?”
Henry’s mouth slipped into a crooked grin at the underlining command in Riddle’s tones. He had a feeling Riddle wouldn’t be good at taking orders. For all his Slytheriness, he could probably out-stubborn half the Gryffindor quidditch team.
“And then he told me to stay away from you,” Henry didn’t bother to hold back a scoff, “like that would deter me.”
“We’re heading off to breakfast,” Riddle’s face was a blank mask of indifference but Henry noticed how his voice dropped into something stilted, almost unsure.
“Want some company?” Henry leapt to fall into step with him. As they made their way down to the Great Hall together, Henry did what he liked to call flirting shamelessly. Nance would probably call it flirting unsuccessfully, given the fact that Riddle looked about one second away from murdering him but he got another giggle out of Harry. Henry would die for that boy.
“I’ll see you later Riddle,” Henry bowed down to Harry, “Mini-Riddle.”
He would have liked to stay but he could see Nance across the hall eyeing him suspiciously and beside her, was a plate of sausages. Henry swept away to her.
“Love of my life,” he sidled over and pulled the plate close to him. “Light to my darkness.”
“What did Dumbledore want?” Nance asked at once, “and what were you doing with Riddle? Did he say anything about the future?”
Henry took a bite of sausage. They were still warm. “Ah, but you’re asking the wrong questions,” he said once he had swallowed.
“And the right question is?”
“Where can I get a copy of the Potter family tree?”