Disclaimer: Fanfiction...not mine...

Chapter One

The Latecomer

" It may be over, but it won't stop there."

I was fifteen.

Just fifteen, when it happened. When she happened. My sixteenth birthday was all of six weeks off, and I was thinking, that day, of the usual truths.

I knew that I would spend my birthday alone in my dormitory, my common room, because everyone else had gone home for their happy holidays.

I knew there would be no presents to open, save the small tokens of pity from the ignorant, well-meaning staff. Because I , Tom Riddle, had no home to go to, and my wretched birthday could not even have fallen in term time.

My birthday. New Year's Eve. Wasn't it supposed to be a time of new life, new beginnings? Perhaps to all the others, it was.

Only not for me.

My new beginning came that year, my sixteenth year, and it happened, as these things often do, I think, in the most unexpected of places.

O O O O O

Term had begun in the normal way, September the first, and for some, a tearful goodbye to their doting parents on Platform 9 ¾, and for me, blessed homecoming, for the London orphanage where I spent my summers had never felt like a home.

I had done well at school, excelling at every subject, and popular with every teacher. Well, almost every teacher.

This year I'd boarded the Hogwarts Express, proudly displaying a new Prefect's badge, and revelling in my newfound power and status.

My appointment as new prefect had not come as a great surprise, as I knew that I was one of Armando Dippet's favourite students, so it was only really a matter of coming of age.

And besides, playing the part of the model student all these years was a small price to pay for the privilege of handing out punishments to all the pathetic first years and Mudbloods that dared not to do exactly as I told them.

But it was November now, and the drizzle fell against the windows of the castle as we trooped into Slughorn's dungeons for a double Potions lesson that would, as they usually did, comprise of forty percent Potions and sixty percent witty and enthralling anecdotes, told in Slughorn's trademark jovial and self-important manner, and all featuring famous ex-pupils who, of course, attributed their success entirely to him.

I was leaning back in my chair, trying to conceal a yawn behind my outstretched hand.

I'd had a late night, after stealing Vittorio Zabini's precious invisibility cloak to peruse the Restricted Section at my leisure. I'd found some particularly interesting reading on a recent visit and I certainly did not want the librarian, Madam Finnelly, breathing down my neck and asking if Tom Dear was enjoying his book.

Stupid, irritating little woman. I had just begun to fantasize about using the Cruciatus curse on Madam Finnelly, when the door to the dungeons banged open.

I shall never forget that moment. It was the first time I saw her.

That moment became as etched in my mind as the burn marks were scored indelibly into the desktops of the Potions classroom. The sound of the door banging back against the stone wall of the dungeons was more than enough to snap me out of my thoughts, and I looked up sharply.

All I could see was a heavy stack of books falling down the steps of the Potions room, closely followed by a bundle of blue and silver cloth. Behind these, stood a figure in black robes, wearing no tie and with the longest hair that I had ever seen, held in a ponytail by a strange silver comb.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Professor Slughorn puff himself up, ready to take umbrage at the noisy intruder. But before he could begin, the girl in the doorway pushed her hair out of her face, and for half a second, her eyes met mine.

She looked away quickly, frowning and picking up the dropped books and her scarf in Ravenclaw's blue and silver. Professor Slughorn had pulled out a seat near his own desk, and told her to sit down. She rummaged for a moment more in her robes and pulled out a wand, flicking it at the books and sending them flying at speed to settle in a neat pile on the table where Slughorn had indicated, still looking flustered and still muttering apologies.

It was a very neat piece of spell work, though Slughorn told her to put her wand away.

I didn't know why at the time, but for some reason, I sat and watched her for the rest of the lesson. She certainly seemed to be a very strange girl.

O O O O O

Her name was Laura. Laura Ames. Abraxas Malfoy's twin sister heard from her friend's friend's cousin, who slept in the bed next door. I heard her tell her brother this, though I pretended not to be listening.

I didn't speak to the new girl that first lesson, or the next, or the next one. All I knew was that she had apparently been "asked to leave" Beauxbatons Academy in France, where her father still lived, but nobody had offered a reason why. If they knew at all.

This was the excuse I gave, in my own mind, at least, for attaching myself to the young Professor Flitwick.

Having recently joined the School, he had taken over the post of Charms Master, and Head of Ravenclaw house.I was, of course, merely taking my promise to Professor Dippet seriously when I stopped by the Charms Master's office one evening, to ask him if there was any small thing I could possibly do to assist him.

The tiny Professor was more than grateful when quiet, well-behaved model prefect Tom Riddle gave up his lunch hour to help him stack up all his Student Files onto the high shelves.

I was deeply involved, naturally, in his high-pitched conversation about his time spent travelling around the forests of Malaysia in search of the Horny-Skinned Goatcracker. It was most inconvenient, therefore, when Evan Rosier, one of the boys that shared my dorm, burst in, babbling some story about Peeves the poltergeist causing havoc in the Charms corridor, and the poor Professor was obliged to cut short his enthralling anecdote and attend on the scene immediately, leaving wonderful, selfless Tom Riddle to finish the job - all alone.

By the time he returned to his office, after finding that Peeves had apparently 'cleared up all the damage and fled the scene', all the files were in perfect order on the shelves, where I had left them before leaving for Professor Merrythought's Defence Against The Dark Arts class.

Well, perhaps not quite all.

Fifty points to Slytherin was certainly very nice, I reasoned, but it was not what I had come for.

O O O O O

That night, after Prefect duty patrolling the endless freezing corridors, I returned to my dormitory, and threw off my winter cloak.

Rosier, Mulciber, Dolohov and Nott were all sleeping as I closed the door behind me, and swung down the heavy, forest green hangings around the unoccupied bed against the far wall.

I took off my robes, undressing until I wore nothing but my black wool school trousers.I flung myself down onto the bed, casting enough silencing charms and wards to ensure that what I was about to do would be entirely uninterrupted.

Feeling underneath my mattress, I brought out the thin blue cardboard file that said: AMES Laura Rowena Lucita

I thought it was a coincidence that she shared her middle name with the founder of her House, and I wondered whether there was a reason for it. I would find out later.

I discovered that Laura had been born just outside Cardiff, in Wales,1926, and that this event had led to her mother's death. This seemed odd, as it stated that Laura was pureblood, so her mother, like my own, had been a witch.

I frowned, but read on, learning that she lived with her father in the south of France, and had done so ever since the age of nine.

She had had three brothers, Christoph, Sion, and Reuben, all Aurors and all killed in the fight against Grindelwald and his followers.

Then, I found the letter. The letter, in fine, sloping cursive, signed by the Headmistress of Beauxbatons Academy. The notice of expulsion. So she had a secret...this was going to be useful. I decided there and then that, as a Prefect, it was my duty to keep a very close watch on Laura Ames.

A very close watch indeed.

A/N : Quote from 'Goodbye My Lover' by James Blunt.

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