Lord Of Time

7

Chapter 7

Harry stirred awake, blinking at the top of the green canopy on his bed, stretching languidly, before sitting up ready to face his 'first' day at Hogwarts, Dippet had said he didn't need to go to classes not that he was actually forbidden to go. The thought of sitting around doing nothing held no appeal to him, in fact it was pretty much the only thing he had in common with his eleven year old self when he was a teenager. He'd had enough of sitting doing nothing in a cupboard most of his life, so anything was better...different. Also why he had probably got into situations he definitely shouldn't have as well, oh it helped with Dumbledore steering the reigns of course.

Sliding the curtains open, he noticed that his new roommates were still sleep; he froze however, seeing the sleeping face of his one time enemy. Sometime at night his arm had came out of the curtains leaving it slightly open. Bloody hell, Harry thought to himself, how on earth did he look so peaceful? So angelic? He was beginning to understand why everyone flocked to him. Beneath had mask was a boy so secluded by society that all he could think about was tearing it apart. No, he was just arrogant and believed he knew best, with some help he could change...at least he hoped so. It was odd to think Tom was more like Dumbledore than anyone would ever realize. Only Dumbledore chickened out at the last minute and decided he didn't want to go to the extremes Gellert Grindelwald was prepared to go.

Wandlessly checking the time, he realized he had amble time to have a long shower, with that in mind he padded over to his trunk and gathered his school uniform for the day, and made his way to the showers. Which he had no clue as to their location, but after a few minutes investigating he found them just fine. They layout wasn't all that different, though there was much more space here than there was in Gryffindor tower. Which shouldn't be a surprise, the dungeons was largely unused due to its size. The entire tower was used - cramped one might say.

Testing the water, he stood under the hot spray and enjoyed the luxury of not having to worry about someone attacking him. Last night had probably been one of the best nights he'd had in a long time, in both terms of sleep and able to relax. He'd never thought he would see the day where he could be in the presence of Tom Riddle aka Voldemort and actually fall asleep! It was deeply ironic and a smirk made its way onto his face. He was unsure of how the interactions would go, he wasn't just a first year, he was a third year that came out of nowhere, sleeping in Tom's dorm, no doubt the boy was unsure of how to proceed as well.

Burning anger flared through him just thinking about Dumbledore, damn the old man, if Dumbledore hadn't been so suspicious of Tom, treating him as if he were dark it was no wonder he had gone down his path. If he had just bloody helped him once, who knows what would have happened to him? Hell he was smart as fuck, could have been Minister of Magic. There was something he missing, in terms of Dumbledore, could it really be something as simple as having a fear of those with powerful magic? It wasn't just powerful ones you needed to look out for, Pettigrew for instance, he was weak both in personality and magic and he had killed his fair share of people - directly or indirectly. You'd think a smart guy like Dumbledore would realize that, but no, Merlin forbid. Sighing softly, Granger had said logic wasn't exactly a wizard's strong suit, and he had to agree with the whole of his being even if she had been the one to say it.

Quickly scrubbing his body with the stuff he'd bought, which by the way were way cheaper than he was used to, but everything was really. It smelt odd, not a bad odd but nothing like he was used to. He should have checked what he was buying but he hadn't, still too wound up over Dumbledore to think clearly. Shampooing his hair, still finding it really weird that he had long hair! He'd gone his entire life with what had Death called it? Oh yes, birds nest, which may very well have been a rather apt description.

Turning the shower off, he grabbed the towel that hung on the outside, dragging it past the curtain and began to towel off, he didn't use a spell; he didn't like how it felt to be honest and his hair always worse than unmanageable when he did it. Stepping out he quickly put his underwear on, then took his time with the rest, finding something else odd, all his scars were gone, most importantly the scar on his forehead. Even the words Umbridge had forced him to scribe into his hand were absent. A blank slate, he mused, a fresh start, somehow that both thrilled and worried him on equal measures.