He was breaking; he could feel it, the lack of strength in his arms and legs, the sharp pain that made him think his head was going to explode, and over the top of it all, a cold, high voice laughed at him.

Quirinus sat upright, gasping, and tore through his own mind, checking, but it was just him in there.

Snape came to collect Draco early the next morning, and Ron Flooed home shortly after they’d left. Remus couldn’t say he was sad to see them go; much as he liked Harry’s friends, the recent full moon and his break up with Dora had left him wanting to keep to himself, and think things through, both of which were far easier said than done when there were three boisterous Gryffindors upstairs.

"Greentooth's a little monster, like always," Matt said, following Remus into his cottage, "but Silverear… I think Hogwarts is changing him."

That was enough to pull Remus' attention away from his mantra of You chose this, now get on with things.

"How so?" he asked.

“How did you do it?” Bella’s voice was petulant, and Sirius, who’d done his best to ignore her on his other shifts in Azkaban, found himself looking at her. Marlene hovered behind him, eyes narrowed, and fixed on his cousin. She’d been pretty once, in a dark sort of way, but Azkaban had long since taken her beauty and warped it. If Sirius had to find a word to describe his cousin now, it’d probably be thin, or haunted.

It was like the beginning to a very funny joke; an Auror, a dead man, a banshee, and an old witch are all in a bookshop, and the Auror says… Sirius chuckled.

“Keira, Madam Wolple, this is Quirrell.” Sirius waved at the gaunt man standing in the doorway, who was staring at the hairs on Madam Wolple’s chin until he noticed Kiera.

“… fifth year, or sixth?” Padfoot asked, looking at Moony. The three of them were sitting on one of the benches on the outskirts of Hogsmeade, that looked up at the path to the school, and out over the forest. Moony had been recognised and greeted by a few of the older students (and Harry had quickly hidden under the invisibility cloak), but no one had passed by for a few hours now.

When Ginny awoke, Tom lingered in the back of her head, trying to steer her attention toward the diary. He’d decided that would be the best course of action; face to face, he’d be better able to play to her sympathies, and get her to forget about catching him out about his heir of Slytherin story… not that she understood the significance of it all, of course.

“… if I hear one more complaint, I’ll make it fifteen inches, Mr Smith,” McGonagall said, as the class started to throw things into their bags. Smith fell silent at once, but Harry saw him make a rude gesture at McGonagall’s back as he left the room. “Mr Potter, a moment, if you would.”

“Kelpies can’t petrify things,” Ron announced, shutting the large book on magical creatures he’d been reading. Draco, who was next to Hermione, reading over his potions notes, just grunted. “So it’s not that.”

“So,” Harry said, when the four of them were safely tucked away in the second year boys dormitory, “I reckon you’ve got some questions?”

“One or two,” Ron said, grinning. Harry mustered a grin back; that, at least, was easier to do than think of a way to deal with Hermione’s frown, or Draco’s arched eyebrow.

By breakfast the next day, rumours that Harry was the Heir of Slytherin had spread through the school and taken root in the minds of the other students.

A group of Hufflepuffs split Harry’s school bag when they saw him in the corridor, to give time for one of them – apparently a muggleborn – to get away from him, and Ron got himself detention for punching Cormac McLaggen at lunch after he asked a question that none of Harry’s friends would repeat to him.

“Potter!”

“Harry!”

“Harry, mate?”

 

Gryffindor common room was, for once, entirely silent. Even that third year, McLaggen - and his friends - who'd been playing a noisy game of Exploding Snape just moments before, seemed to have nothing to say.

 

He heard the low grate of what could only be the Chamber’s opening and would have turned around to look, but couldn’t even open his eyes. He still couldn’t believe what had happened, couldn’t work out how it had gone so, so horribly wrong.

It was obvious that no one particularly wanted to be alone, but nor was anyone particularly chatty. The result was the entirety of Gryffindor house all in the common room, but other than the low hum of tense voices, it was so quiet that Draco thought he’d be able to hear a wand drop.

 

“Harry Potter,” Sirius said, and Harry’s face appeared in the mirror at once.

“Padfoot.” He looked relieved, more than anything, but also tired; his eyes were dull behind his glasses, and shadows hung beneath them. “I tried to get you earlier, but-”

“Rodolphus Lestrange tried to break out of Azkaban,” Sirius sighed.

There was a soft knock on Gilderoy’s door, and he turned away from his trunk.

“Mr Lockhart?” an unfamiliar voice asked. “Mr Lockhart, are you in?”

Gilderoy weighed his options for a few seconds, and then replied, “Yes! Yes, I am, one moment…” He pushed his half-packed trunk under the desk, and went to open the door.

“Ron?” Harry's voice came to him distorted, as if through water. Ron couldn't respond, couldn't even turn to look at him. All he could see were Riddle's shiny shoes, wavering every now and then, as if they weren't quite there. He just had to Wait quietly for the Dark Lord's instructions. “What have you done to him?” Harry demanded.

“Are you just going to hide there, Harry?” Riddle taunted, as Harry clutched his head with one hand, and pulled the hat off with the other. “Poor Ginny’s running out of time.”

 

“This is it?” Dumbledore asked, reaching for the diary, as Padfoot glanced at the hat and shot Dumbledore a bewildered look. “Tom’s… hiding place?”

“Yes, sir,” Harry said.

“And how-”

There was a sharp knock on the office door, and Mr Malfoy strode in. He nodded at Scrimgeour, barely looked at Harry and Padfoot, and turned to Dumbledore.

“Welcome back,” Dumbledore said, smiling around the hall.

“You too, sir!” Fred called, and a smattering of applause broke out.

“Thank you, Mr Weasley,” Dumbledore said, nodding at him. Ron nudged Harry.

“Where’s Lockhart?” Ron asked, frowning up at the staff table. There was an empty chair between Snape’s and Sinistra’s, and the lack of brightly coloured robes between the two stood out, because both of them were wearing black.

May passed without incident, but with June came exams. More than ever, Ron felt Hermione's absence. He missed Malfoy too – Ron wanted someone other than Harry to play at chess, and joke with - but there was just something about exam time that made him think of Hermione.

Ginny pushed gently against the doors to the hospital wing and glanced inside. It was quiet, and dark; even the lights in Madam Pomfrey’s office were out. Ginny lit her wand with a murmur, and glanced around; Draco’s silhouette – which had moved when the door opened – materialised into his usual, pale, pointy faced self, blinking in the light.