Harry Potter and the Time Fluke

Dumbledore's Arrival

Any day now, it would happen.

Any day now Dumbledore would come strolling up the front path and into Wool's with the sole purpose of telling Tom something Harry already knew. He would take Harry's Tom from him; there was no way that Tom would turn Dumbledore down. Harry didn't mind accepting in his mind that he viewed Tom as his; they'd only had each other for nearly six years now. Harry wouldn't try and stop Tom from going to Hogwarts, seeing as how he'd be going there next year anyway and, not to mention, Tom deserved bigger, better, things than what the muggle world had to offer; things only the wizarding world could give.

Harry sighed and fiddled with the bracelet Tom had given him approximately five years ago on his fifth birthday. It had been a bit too big then, but now it fit quite snugly on his wrist. Some people thought it was amazing the two bracelets that "connected" Harry and Tom hadn't fallen off yet, but Harry knew better. When he'd made Tom's, he had wandlessly used an easy strengthening charm to keep the colorful twine from falling off by natural means. It would never get too tight, fray, or fall apart. When Tom had given Harry a friendship bracelet as well, he again used the same charm on his own and now they had something with meaning that connected them to each other rather than just Harry's scar.

It was a nice feeling.

Stretching his arms up over his head, Harry though about the irony in Tom's attempt to finish up a summer homework assignment for a class in a school he'd never attend again. True, the older boy wouldn't listen to Harry's not-so-subtle hints that the homework wouldn't matter. But still Tom decided to be studious so Harry sat on his bed, alone, in his room with his arms resting on the sill of the open window, scowling over events that had yet come to pass; about when Dumbledore would come to take Tom away to the world of magic and impossibilities.

There, strolling jovially up the front path in a much too cheery manner, was Dumbledore.

Granted, it was a much younger version of the future headmaster, one whose hair had yet to turn white.

As if he could feel someone watching him, Dumbledore looked up and met Harry's eyes. The latter wasn't shocked by the man's actions in the least and wouldn't have been surprised if he could feel Harry's eyes roaming over his form, so he didn't look away. Why should he? It wasn't like he was afraid of Dumbledore reading his mind. It had taken him the whole of sixth year to completely master occlumency, it didn't matter that he was only ten now, he still retained all the magical abilities he'd had at age seventeen.

Dumbledore looked away, never missing a step and, when he got to the front door, Harry could hear the faint booms echoing up from the front door through both the halls of Wool's and his third story window. His scowl deepened at the knowledge of what was already upon him. He didn't want to go bother Tom, and he couldn't. Dumbledore would notice him as the same boy from earlier and Harry couldn't risk him getting suspicious, especially since Harry was sure he'd see him again next summer. Harry heard the faint murmuring of voices drifting up to his window before the door was shut again.

He waited until he heard the door to Tom's room next door open and shut before sneaking down to the kitchens for a snack, he didn't want to face Tom at dinner.

Back in his hideout, Harry returned to his bed and looked out the window above it. He placed his elbows back on the windowsill and began munching on his apple. It was a good thing his mind was older than his body, or else he might've fallen out of the space years ago when he first discovered that it opened. He was, once again, disappointed in the people running the orphanage. I mean, really. Who puts a four-year-old on the third floor in a room, unsupervised, with a window that opens completely? Idiots.

Harry heard the front door open once again and he looked down, getting an excellent view of the tops of Mrs. Cole and Dumbledore's heads'. Probably discussing the cost of Tom's new school, he thought malevolently. Harry loved Hogwarts, he really did, but he didn't like the fact that it was going to steal his best friend away from him for a year, leaving him to fend for himself.

Mrs. Cole shook Dumbledore's hand and closed the door. Dumbledore retreated merrily back the way he came, taking one last glance back at the cheerless building only to, once again, meet eyes with the same small boy on the third floor. Not missing the hate-filled eyes directed at him, he attempted to probe the boy's mind. What he was met with, however, was a resilient steel barricade. His eyes widened a fraction of an inch at the strong resistance he was met with. Interesting, he thought before turning back around and exiting the property. He walked around the bend and flitted into a narrow alleyway–the perfect spot to apparate.

Seven o'clock came and went but Harry didn't leave the confines of his room. He didn't want to see Tom. He didn't want to find out whether Tom would trust him enough to let him in on his newest secret or not. If Harry were the older one, what would he do? Maybe he would tell Tom; probably he would. He wouldn't want to feed his friend half-truths. He knew how that felt and never wanted to purposely do it to someone he cared about...