Note: I'm aware the two new chapters are short/rushed feel to them, truth be told I'm no longer really interested in this ship and therefore the story. It has also been so long that I lost the ideas that I had (they were on my old laptop). I felt like you deserved at least some sort of ending to this story though. There will be a third part but it will most likely be a one shot though hopefully a fairly decent one in length.
Chapter Three: The Attacks Begin
The holidays were an interesting time for Max. He and Tom had headed off to the Malfoy's for the Christmas break at the insistence of Abraxas who they knew better than to argue with. Max had to admit it looked just as gloomy and dark as he had imagined back in his time but none the less it was a good break and he enjoyed himself. Abraxas's parents reminded him of what he knew of Lucius and Narcissa, even Draco back in his time but he didn't mind. He found himself liking it more and more, though they were less... evil?
The two of them saw a lot of their friends over the holidays and travelled to their places too. The Christmas Ball had been an interesting occasion. With the disaster of the Yule Ball in his mind, he had been rather hesitant at first but he found it to be nothing like that. In fact he enjoyed himself. Quite different to the one in his fourth year, the Ball went well and all in all it was a good evening. He had given his friends small trinkets and received some in return which surprised him. Despite being friends with them he hadn't expected anything from him. His favourite gift though had been from Tom – a book on Dark Arts that looked really old.
Apart from that nothing much happened over the holidays. In fact it was rather normal which Max loved.
Finally they were back at Hogwarts, and things there were as normal as they could be with Max in Slytherin and 50 years in the past. To him though, it was perfect and he hadn't been this happy in a long time, while he had been here he had watched people carefully and had started to question a lot of things from his own time from his friendships to how Dumbledore had taken an overly strong interest in his life and combined with the information he had now from Sirius, the prophecy and even more he wondered just how much of his life had been orchestrated – his first year and the philosopher's stone? His second year? His fourth year? Surely if Moody had been one of Dumbledore's closest friends he would have noticed there was something odd about him, his entire school career stunk of manipulation from the form of the Headmaster which had him wondering about the other professor's – McGonagall, Flitwick were they in on it too? If they had been he would be hurt, he had truly liked those two. While he had been here he had seen McGonagall around the school which was surprising, he hadn't realised she had attended school at the same time as Tom and it brought up some very interesting things he had to wonder about but that was for another time.
At the moment, Max was running through the halls looking for Tom and avoiding the teachers and prefects who were around, patrolling. It was getting late and he had agreed to meet Tom over an hour ago but he hadn't arrived, Max had an idea where he was though and he didn't want to be caught there, it would raise too many questions. Finally he arrived at the bathroom though and opened the entrance to the chamber before jumping in, closing it behind him as he did so.
Max was right, he found Tom standing at the entrance to where the Basilisk was. "Tom?" he asked the other boy.
"I think we should do it," Tom replied not turning to look at Max. "We need to install fear in those who are weaker, to rid the school of those not worthy."
"Yes," Max found himself agreeing to his surprise. He had been aware that he had changed over his time in the past but still he was surprised at just how much he had, in the past he would never have condoned the killing of people but that is what he was doing with that one simple word.
Tom summoned the Basilisk out then, commanding it to set forth and rid the school of the filth that didn't belong there, to do its job.
