"Pssst! Kid! His Lordship told me to give you this. I tried to open it, but the message is all squiggly."
Barty was trying to hide behind a pillar and be inconspicuous. He was failing horrifically; he must have forgotten he was till in his stumpy Moody body. Still, it served as a source of amusement for Harry (not as if he didn't have enough given the school's response to Potter's failure).
"It's probably Parseltongue. Give it here."
Barty nodded and glanced around before handing a package to Harry.
"There's no need to be so suspicious. Honestly! You're acting as paranoid as Moody himself! Are you sure it's not rubbing off on you?"
It was a rhetorical question and Barty had more sense than to answer it. He muttered something about classes and grading and stumped away.
Harry, dear.
Now, I know I said I'd let you have your fun with the Potter brat this year and I mean to keep that promise. Unfortunately, there are several circumstances that require your presence at my manor during the year. All will be explained shortly. This letter is also a Portkey; just utter the words 'Morsmordre' and it will be activated. Inside the package that I'm sure Barty had faithfully delivered is a Time Turner. I've also enclosed a pendant whose function will be explained at the Manor. I expect you tomorrow night at eight o'clock sharp.
Pompous git. And a cliché one too (Honestly, Morsmordre? How obvious can you get? I mean, the very incantation of the Dark Mark?!).
Nevertheless, Harry was still excited and ripped open the package.
Glinting in the sunlight streaming in from the archway was a perfect Time Turner. As Harry turned it about in his fingers, he noticed that it was inlaid with diamonds and the gold was not just gold flakes but real, pure gold. The band was white gold and the whole thing screamed opulence. Harry wondered where Tom might have acquired such an expensive object. Perhaps he'd gone to the blackmarket in Persia; it was known for being ridiculously exorbitant.
No matter.
He pocketed it and started down the corridor only to collide with Granger.
"What on earth do you think you're doing, Potter?!" she yelled as if it wasn't her that walked straight into Harry.
"Why don't you say 'Merlin' like a normal witch?" Harry snarked back.
Granger turned as red as her precious Weasley's hair as she sputtered, trying to find something witty to say back. Eventually, she settled on,
"I bet you were up to something!"
Harry rolled his eyes and said in the most condescending voice he could muster,
"Why yes, Miss Granger. I suppose that meeting with Professor Moody is considered being 'up to something' yeah?"
She blushed and stomped off in a huff, probably to complain to Potter. Just as Harry was about to walk off in the opposite direction, her footsteps halted.
A few moments of silence.
And then her feet came pitter-pattering back along the cobblestone as a faster rate than before and she called out,
"Potter! Your last name is the same as Alex's. What's up with that?"
Harry turned, a wry smirk adorning his features and he came face to face with the bushy-haired girl. He had hoped someone would think something like that; he had given the Hogwarts population four years already.
"You know Miss Granger, I've heard from the teachers about your academic prowess. I would think that with such high-caliber thinking skills, you would have figured it out the moment you met me. Why don't you take a guess?"
Harry's voice was patronizing but this didn't seem to deter Granger.
"I thought at first," she began in her signature insufferable know-it-all voice, "that you were Alex Potter's brother of sorts. But then, I analyzed your personalities and I found it was impossible you two were brought up in the same household. So...some kind of distant cousin?" she guessed.
"You certainly have a way of thinking, Miss Granger. However, I am afraid that your current assumption is incorrect. Yes, I was not brought up in the same household as Potter, and you will find out why when you meet James and Lily Potter for yourself. Good day, Miss Granger," he said coldly.
Harry turned on his heels and marched all the way back to the Slytherin dormitories, magic flaring in a way that had even the bravest of portraits scrambling away. He always had hated when people compared him to his idiot brother.
----------
It was late in the evening of the next day when Harry finally found a deserted corridor.
Glancing around, he dug the time turner out of his pocket and sunk into a shadowed alcove. One turn per hour would suffice. Tom had outright demanded that he come at 8 in the morning sharp, so...
Seventeen turns later, Harry stood in the middle of that same corridor (a bit disoriented, but what would he care?). He closed his eyes and grasped into the taut rope in the center of his magic and pulled almost as he would a bell.
An odd sort of sensation spread through him. It felt as though he was being made into mist and then cut out into shapes of the nature he could not distinguish. A solar wind blasted around him and he grinned (or as best he could with himself so scattered and all).
From the outside, you and I can only see Harry melt into a peach-colored blur and disappear completely from the corridor.
----------
"Ah. So you're here."
A deep, rich voice rang out across the huge entrance hall.
"The bloody hell am I?!"
Harry was utterly bewildered at his presence in what looked like a mansion. Tom must have done something to the time turner -perhaps it was a time turner/Portkey hybrid?
Tom shot him an unimpressed look.
"Slytherin Castle, Harry. Just look around," he said in a patronizing way.
Harry had to admit, he laid it on a bit thick.
The place had a high, vaulted ceiling that looked to be from the Neo-Gothic era. The marble pillars on which the ceiling stood were polished obsidian black with irregular streaks of jade green running through them. The tops of said pillars were carved in a Greek Corinthian style and were overall very majestic. The floor was of a checkered sort that involved white, dark green, and black marble. A huge grand staircase flowed from the second story balcony. It had a pine green velvet carpet draped across its black walnut-wood stairs. The matching banisters were of teak wood and intricate designs twisted into the framework.
*The image above is of the Grand Palais in Paris on the Champs-Élysées)
(Note: Do replace the pillar color in your heads. The floor I described is below, and you cannot see it within this image. Also, place said velvet carpet on the stairs and then I believe you will have an adequate idea of what the entrance hall of Slytherin Castle looked like)
"So..."
Harry's voice was just a touch too high, as he was a little overwhelmed by how extravagant everything was.
"Yes. I believe a tour is in order, no? Come on."
Tom held out his elbow and waited. Face burning, Harry tentatively wrapped his finger around it and they proceeded up the stairs, Tom pointing out his ancestors' portraits all the way.
"....That's Corvinus Gaunt....Gormlaith Gaunt. A nasty witch indeed...Rionach Gaunt was the mother of Isolt Sayre. You know her, yes? The sole Founder of Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry? I thought so..."
Harry was only half listening as he scanned the doors and began to plan which rooms would be whose when they broke the Death Eaters out of Azkaban.
"Harry? Harry are you listening?"
"Hmmmm?! Oh! Oh yes! I-I am!"
He was met with Tom's annoyed yet fond gaze.
"Harry, you know I can tell when your mind is elsewhere. What were you just thinking?"
Harry's face burned, but he managed to not stutter (quite the achievement on his part) as he mumbled,
"'bout where Auntie Bella will reside."
Tom looked exceedingly pleased.
"Yes, let's speak of that, shall we?"
"Why do you always have to sound so bloody sophisticated?"
"Because, darling, I am 'perfect' personified."
Harry stuck out his tongue but allowed Tom to guide him into a flamboyant, dark-hued sitting room. Once there, Tom gracefully draped himself over a jet black leather armchair while Harry sank onto the couch.
"So. Now that we are discussing rooming options..."