When the Clock Defies the Time
Chapter One: Crimson Mirror
Cold, dank, musty and old portrayed the perfect description of the room. Moss grew in the corners amongst fungus, which also chose to grow along wall and ceiling. The stagnant smell and dripping water only finalized the face of residence below water, a lake that housed a giant squid, was that of a dungeon that belonged to a castle. The castle was an institution that for schooling of wizards and witches was its purpose.
And in that dungeon was a class, a very monotonous and testy class, for anyone whose house colors were not green and silver. The class was the study of potions, its teacher, Severus Snape. And in this class, behind rickety desks and brimming cauldrons, were students of Gryffindor and Slytherin, the oddest union of Houses for they hated it other with a passion. But the professor knew why these Houses were together; it was all the headmaster's doing.
"Now, class," Snape was saying; "Today we will be... Mister Potter, would you kindly explain as to why you are not paying attention?"
Said student raised his head, the lengthy ebony hair falling around his face. He looked at Snape innocently enough, but the green orbs were alight with all emotions Snape was accustomed to receiving. Harry Potter's companion, Ron Weasley, looked up at Snape as well, but no look of defiance graced his features.
Snape had to admit that, over the years, the Boy Who Lived had changed, and the most drastic of said changes happening after Sirius Black had met an untimely end. Yes, the savior to the wizarding word had changed. His right ear pierced, his hair now down to his shoulders, and although still only five-foot-seven, he had finally attained a lithe form of muscles. The young man was also attune to his surroundings and quite capable of decimating the entire castle with a stroke of his hand and a burning hellfire of his temper. But this was no threat to a person who had known the student for so long.
"I was paying attention, Professor," Harry said smoothly.
"Then, pray tell, what was I saying before?" Snape asked, gliding over with a menacing glare.
Harry looked at his hand tiresomely as he replied; "We're making Higgin's Brew, sir."
"Well, Mister Potter, since you seem to have the same arrogant air as yesterday, kindly inform us just what the Higgin's Brew is," Snape said, turning and walking towards his desk.
Harry glared daggers at his professor, hands tightening into fists underneath the table as he replied; "Higgin's Brew is an age-reversing potion, sir;" how he despised the aspect of school that was mandatory respect.
Snape turned around and nodded once; "Very good, Mister Potter, but five points will be deducted for your tone of voice and attitude."
"Damn him that make twenty-five today alone!" Harry heard Ron whisper almost inaudibly through gritted teeth. Harry had to smirk at this.
"Now, you will all be put into pairs, and to make things fair I shall be appointing you all to your partners," he sat down behind his desk, picking up the roll; "Finnegan, Bulstrode..."
Harry looked out of the corner of his eyes to see both students roll their eyes in dismay, Seamus emitting a quiet groan before rubbing his temples and laying his head down on the table. Millicent did the same, save for her head only reached her palms, not the hard wooden table.
"Weasley, Parkinson..."
Ron outwardly groaned. Harry looked at him sympathetically. The Promiscuous girl was a bitch and everyone knew she took great joy in constantly bothering, no, more like annoying the hell out of anyone with a last name she considered lower than her own.
"Granger, Longbottom..."
That match always happened. Snape knew Hermione would be able to direct the clumsy and nervous Neville through the class with only minor incidents. Harry was glad that Neville wasn't paired with any Slytherin. Pity for a fellow Gryffindor spurred this, and Neville was one of the weaker as it were...
"Potter, Zambini..."
Harry glanced over at Blaise, who was conversing quietly with Draco Malfoy. Harry rolled his eyes and looked away. At least he hadn't been paired with Malfoy.
"Malfoy, Petal..."
Again, Harry looked at Parvati, who was sitting with Hermione, and the girl looked at him pleadingly. Harry shrugged; he was powerless in this. Why did people always look to him for help, even when it was an inevitable defeat anyway?
"Thomas, Goyle..."
Soon, they were all divided up, House with House, ironically. Harry picked up his things and moved over to Blaise's desk as Draco got up. Upon passing the blonde, quick words were said.
"Watch yourself, Potter, Blaise got his wand back today..."
"Make sure you fuck your pillow nicely tonight, Malfoy..."
The fresh comeback had Draco stall momentarily to chance a glare at the Gryffindor, before he finally sat down with Parvati.
"So, Potter, big Quidditch game coming up," Blaise said coolly as he set up the things necessary for the potion. He had already gone and collected the ingredients.
"And I'll kick Malfoy's pale arse, as tradition goes," Harry replied just as calmly.
"Don't be so sure," Blaise said; "Who's saying you'll make it to that game, eh?"
Harry paused, looking at the Slytherin. Blaise was reading the text from their potions book, as if unconcerned by what had passed his lips. Harry mentally shrugged it off, beginning to chop up roots.
"And I suppose detentions with McGonagall were fine?" Harry asked quietly, snickering.
Blaise had, three weeks prior, purposely exploded a chair during transfiguration, after having transformed it from a crow. That had earned him a lecture from McGonagall, and three weeks detention due to the fact that a chair leg had shattered one of the windows, while the seat had flown across the room and squashed a crow. The Gryffindors laughed at this, and so did the other houses. But it soon died on the grape vine. Harry hadn't forgotten, though, the idea still brought amusement to his otherwise brooding soul.
"Oh, splendid," Blaise said sarcastically, pouring a foul smelling, greenish liquid into the already boiling cauldron, wispy smoke escaping the surface to waft through the air.
"Well, I'm shocked," Harry said; "And here I thought McGonagall was your worst Professor. I'll have to spread the word as soon as possible."
Inwardly, Blaise's face fell. Potter definitely had the social power to make that possible.
"Well, being everyone's 'Golden Boy' does have its benefits," he remarked snidely, instead.
"I'm not so Golden, I did see you for a time, after all," Harry whispered, his thigh brushing against Blaise's.
Blaise froze at the touch. True, in sixth grade he and Harry had had a quick tryst. It had been a secret, and had not gone past four months. Though home base had been reached a numbed of times...
"Of course, how stupid of me to forget," Blaise said, scooping up the root's Harry had been chopping up and dumping them into the potion.
"How could you forget?" Harry whispered, looking at Blaise with gleaming emerald eyes; "Oh, of course you could, being a Slytherin it was probably just a one-night stand, what, ten times over, to you?"
Blaise snickered; "You are catching on," he whispered, smirking as he waved his wand around the rim of the cauldron and whispered the finishing charm. The potion turned an icy blue; the desired coloration.
"Remember though, it was I who dropped you," Harry murmured.
"And it is you who still brings it up," Blaise said; "Desperate, are we?"
"I just know it eats you alive to know I am with someone else while you aren't," Harry replied; "Well, this is done," Harry said, referring to their potion; "I'll take it up," he took a vial, collected a sample of the potion, and, bottling it, and rose from his seat.
Unnoticed by Harry, Blaise leaned back, meeting gazes with Pansy. He nodded, and Pansy nodded as well, rising herself. The Slytherin girl had a vial of her own, filled with a crimson liquid. She soon came up behind Harry, and, she "tripped". In a flash her long fingernails uncorked the bottle, and it managed to get onto Harry's sleeve and hand.
"Gah, what the hell?!" Harry shouted as his hand began to burn and Pansy fell into him. They both fell to the floor, Pansy rolling the now empty vial back and under Draco's chair. The blonde quickly bent down and picked it up, hiding it in his robes.
"Mister Potter!" Snape exclaimed, rising from his seat quickly; "Twenty points from Gryffindor for your use of vulgar language!"
"Professor, Pansy dumped some sh — crud onto me!" Harry said accusingly, glaring at the girl who had already risen.
"Oh, I'm 'sorry'," she said, smirking as Harry rose.
Harry sneered, mimicking her mockingly as he looked at his hand. The crimson potion has gone into his skin, making it appear like he had been burned. And it felt as if he were on fire. Harry gritted his teeth. The pain was nothing that he was not accustomed to.
"Potter, even I wouldn't expect such an outlandish accusation from you," Snape said.
"Well, sometimes the truth is a bit garish, Professor, but look!" Harry held up his hand; "This doesn't just happen for no apparent reason!"
"What on earth are you talking about?" Snape asked incredulously; "Potter, stop making a show and bring your potion up before I deduct all of your House's points away!"
Harry heard the snickering from the Slytherins, and he turned to glare at Pansy again. The girl simply waved before flipping him off, and Harry felt his hair beginning to bristle. He went to his seat, staring at his reddening hand.
Why hadn't Snape noticed?
Apparently, though, no one else had, either. Harry looked at Ron, who only looked back worriedly. Harry received the same gaze from Hermione, and sighing he returned to his reddened hand. It was very red now, and the pain was intense, so much he feared his lip would begin to bleed form his teeth biting down upon it.
"Don't seem too arrogant now, Potter," Blaise muttered as he read his textbook.
"Sick fuck," Harry mouthed to Blaise with a glare as he did the same, taking his book with his good hand.
"Oh, several months ago that's not what I was hearing," Blaise whispered with a chuckle.
The class ended, and everyone filed out. Harry was a little slower due to his lack of a left hand. The pain felt as if his flesh was slowly being picked at and pulled away. It was grueling and horrendous, the dark magic was diluting Harry's very blood. He felt it, knew it, and despised it. He finally put his book bag over his shoulder, and left.
Ron and Hermione were waiting by the steps leading to the main entry way, and met up with him, both still perturbed by the class period.
"Harry, mate, what was that about?" Ron asked.
"Damnit, my hand is killing me!" Harry muttered; "Parkinson really did something, guys, I swear it!"
"But Harry, nothing's wrong with you hand!" Hermione said exasperatedly. She reached out and took Harry's wrist gently, and he winced in pain; "What's on your sleeve?" she asked.
"What ever got onto my hand!" Harry replied through gritted teeth, pulling his hand away; "I'm going to try and wash it off..."
Hermione and Ron followed him as Harry ascended the staircase; "Harry, it has to be dark magic," Ron said; "If we can't see it..."
"And it's hurting you so badly," Hermione added.
"Plus the fact that it was Pansy who did it," Harry muttered; "I swear, if I ever meet one Slytherin in a hallway alone, Azkaban or not, one will take a hit for the team," he stopped when he reached th boys' restroom; "Tell Professor Lupin that I got caught up with something," he said before going in.
Before Ron could follow, Harry stuck his head through the door and said; "I'll be fine," before disappearing again.
"Let's go," Ron said, taking Hermione's hand as he began walking away; "We'll be late for class."
"But Ron! Harry—!" Hermione protested.
"Will be fine," Ron interrupted; "Whatever's bugging him is his business."
Harry took his bag off, and removed his robes. He rolled his shirt sleeves up, before turning on the cold water and holding his hand and lower arm beneath it. Harry sighed; it dulled the burning pain. Looking down, he noticed the red blemish had steadily progressed to half-way up his forearm, mere inches from his elbow. This worried him to some extent. Would it consume him? Harry ran hot water, and was startled when the pain all but disappeared.
Harry looked at the mirror, staring at his reflection. His mirror self shown, and Harry realized that he was glowing. Gasping, he stumbled back, slinging water everywhere in his haste. Falling to the ground, Harry held his arm with his hand, staring in fixated shock and fear as he saw that the reddened skin had turned black. Jumping up, Harry stumbled backwards and into the large basin of a sink. He fell back, head colliding with mirror.
And, furthering Harry's anxiety and horror, he slowly fell through the mirror as if it were nothing but a horizontal pool of reflecting water.
TBC
Dedicated and written for madewithlemons, a very good friend
Don't forget to review and tell me how it was.
Intended pairings are: Tom/Harry.
Hint for next chapter: what lies within the mirror...