*Someday of November 1943, Hogwarts, Great Hall*
Harry is thinking about the Slytherins again.
The children there are nice, polite. Well, most of them are. He doesn't want to allow prejudice take over him and cloud his judgment. He has tried so hard over the years to make connections with some of them. And he has. He has met two girls and three boys that are nice enough. They talk some times, they get paired together in class... Yes. He would say that most of the Slytherins do not actually follow through the 'I'm dramatic, all eyes on me' stereotype.
A tiny owl made of paper lands on his hand on the wooden table. His mouth twists downturn in one side. His good mood from drinking up a cup of coffee, minutes before, dissappears. Except for him.
He doesn't unfold the little origami, no. He knows it will be unfolded on its own. And it is.A few words are on it.
'Come over. We need to talk.'
He grunts. He searches his bag for a pencil. He has a few scattered at the front pockets. He takes one and scribbles a reply.
'Fuck off. I'm not available to you every time you feel like it. It's seven thirty. Find something else to do. My eyes haven't opened up yet.'
He sees with the corner of his eye the paper refold itself and flying away. He takes another bite of his sandwich. Let the bastard see his answer. Riddle has to learn that not everyone kisses the hem of his robes and perceives him as a God on earth.
Ron and Hermione have another banter about some law that the Ministry voted for the week before so he decides to pay attention to them. Blah blah blah... Yeah, that's boring too. Ugh. He wants to go back to his bed. Saving the magical community of Britain for five years in a row is no easy deal.
He feels a sting on his right hand. Oh. The paper owl is back. He groans, yet reads the message anyway.
'That was rude, boy wonder. But seeing as it is indeed very early and your brain capacity tends to be quite low at such a time -'
Again, the bastard should fuck right off.
' - I am willing to overlook it.'
'Lucky me.' Thinks the savior dryly and keeps reading.
'You will meet me under the two headed statue in the second floor after your second period.'
"Or what, you son of a bitch?" He hisses quietly and stays still upon reading the rest of the text.
'Or I will find you instead and I will break another set of these lovely bones of yours. I think the ones of the legs wait in queue this time around.
PS: Pay attention in class, Harry. Don't fall asleep again, it will be such a pity if you do. After all, Chosen Ones must be prepared for anything, mustn't they?
Cheerio, darling.
You already know who.'
'Creep.' Harry snarls and takes out his wand. He mutters 'incendio'. The paper naturally catches fire.
He doesn't believe the other. Riddle... Riddle has been fucking with his brain stability since they were eleven on the train! It was quite simple. Riddle, like all the other kids, wanted to meet the Chosen One.
And he did. And guess what? They didn't get along. The horror.
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No Pain, No Glory | Tomarry
Fanfiction(An alternative universe where Harry was born in the 1920s and went in school with Tom Riddle. He is still the Chosen One from a prophesy with Grindelwald.) "Harry." "Tom. What the hell do you want now?" "To talk." "I have nothing to talk about with...
