Harry is the Master of Death and Lord of Time through his joining of the three Hallows together. During a duel that wasn't going well, he jumps to the 1940's and has a talk with the true Master of Death. Can have prevent the destruction that will oc...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Tom watched the scene, his dark eyes gleaming; it was obvious at least to him that Hadrian Peverell didn't want an outright confrontation yet wasn't backing away from one. It's the most he had ever seen him talking - other than when he was required to in class if the teachers ask him questions and such. He loved the rush that challenging the other teenager gave him. While the others could keep up with him on the written work on most things, none compared to him on a magical level except Hadrian. He knew there was no way he had just learned about the magical world, he suspected he had always known, but from whom he had no idea.
He hated Muggles, Tom shrewdly picked up on, and it was concealed, but definitely there. Something must have happened to make him hate them; unless he had been brought up by pureblood's and copied his own parent's stances. He wished he knew his background, he had looked himself, but Peverell name was mentioned quite a lot in history, nothing decent in the past three decades. No death listings either, so they must have died in the Muggle world, but it made no sense. They couldn't have died abroad unless they had gone abroad leaving their son at home. Because Hadrian would still be in whatever country they died in, it was just as simple as that until he found the Ministry, but then the Ministry would have found out and advertised it. So he was back to square one when it came to him.
He wanted to shake his head at the idiocy of Avery, he thought just because he was a pureblood he had a given right to say whatever he liked without consequence. Arching an eyebrow as the teen kart wheeled out of the oncoming 'Bombarda' Avery had cast silently impressed. Withholding a snort of amusement at the implication that a parrot was smarter than him, it was the way he said it, in such a Slytherin manner that he felt a stirring of respect. Avery was mediocre in some classes, but Ancient Runes was where he excelled and it wasn't an easy class. Although he needed everyone's help when it came to Arithmancy he though idly.
He wanted to close his eyes in humiliation at having someone so idiotic as a…friend when Avery tried to take Hadrian's wand away, when in fact he didn't have it out. It was perhaps best to rethink his decision to allow Avery to be part of his exclusive group. Instead he just stared in disbelief, his face pretty impassive.
Then he had to go do something utterly stupid like casting a TORMENTO curse. Rage replaced any other feeling, not only was he using his wand to cast the spell like an insipid fool; he was doing so against a boy he had declared off limits to their mocking and bullying ways. He still wasn't sure whether he was protecting Hadrian or his so called friends, seen as he didn't know well enough he had just implemented it just in case.
