Chapter 3: Can't Get a Break

The first day at Harry's new school was going, surprisingly, well enough. The boy had been trying to look as inconspicuous as possible in order to deter any attention directed towards himself. He had arrived about 3 hours before the opening ceremony (the Dursleys were just that excited to get rid of him), so Harry was able to find a nice and empty table in the far corner of the dining hall. He sat, twiddling his thumbs, and waited 2 more hours until more and more students began to trickle in.

The hall was just as bland and clinical looking as the outside of the school had been. There were no floating candles or long oak tables, like Harry experienced in his dream school. No, it was a typical cafeteria-like setting with its whitewashed walls and its fluorescent lights - which were beginning to give Harry a biting migraine.

The boy took off his glasses, scrunched up his eyes, and pinched the bridge of his nose in an attempt to ease his pounding headache.

At that exact moment, Harry failed to notice another boy enter the drab dining hall.

A familiar boy with dark blue eyes and elegant features, who strutted into the large room with all the confidence of a king surrounded by his subjects. That boy made his way to the very forepart of the room and sat directly in front of the professors' table.

Both boys were oblivious to the other's presence.

Harry sighed tiredly and slipped his glasses back on. There were a lot more people in the hall now, but that was to be expected with only twenty minutes until the start of the opening ceremony. Time had passed by dreadfully slow as the boy waited for the introduction to begin, but nonetheless, Harry wished it would go even slower. On the bright side, no one had chosen to sit at Harry's table (there was a reason he picked a spot by the trash cans).

The professors began to take their seats at the front table, and after a little more waiting the ceremony began.

A tall, lanky man with beady eyes and a balding head stood at the center of the teachers' table and cleared his throat.

The room grew silent.

"To those of you brats who don't know, I am Headmaster Farwell." the man said in a flat and scratchy voice, "I will not appease you with pleasantries, as we all know none of you deserve them." He eyed a group of boys in the very center of the room with disdain. The group, in turn, winked and blew kisses to the headmaster. The students around them laughed and whistled flirtatiously, and the headmaster looked ready to spit fire.

Oh, this was a lovely start indeed.

"You will follow the rules that this school has set in place," Farwell grit out, "and if you are stupid enough to break them - as I have no doubt many of you are - then the punishment will be served accordingly…" The headmaster gave pointed looks at a couple other tables before he continued. "Since the first years are unaccustomed to the rules of this institution, I will detail them this one time only. So pay attention."

Naturally, Harry started to zone in and out of the headmaster's long-winded drabble and only keyed in on the most important parts.

Apparently, classes would start the following Monday at 8:00 A.M. and dorms were on the fourth floor...yadda yadda yadda... That was as far as the normal information went anyway.

After that, the headmaster droned on and on about how alcohol and drugs were prohibited on campus, and that sneaking prostitutes into the school was grounds for an entire month's worth of bathroom cleanup duty, since expulsion was not an option in a correctional facility. That part had actually gotten a lot of 'boos' from the student population. Harry didn't know whether to laugh or cringe, as it was all very amusing if not slightly disturbing. He couldn't imagine the bathrooms at the school being hygienic, but living with the Dursleys had placed him in even less desirable situations than the former, so the idea of said disciplinary measure did not phase him much. Not that he was planning on doing anything which would give him that punishment in the first place.

The headmaster ended his speech with a malicious smirk, "If either of the two caretakers is to catch any of you out of bed after curfew, then nightmares will seem like a valley of roses compared to what you're really in for. Enjoy your meal..."

When Farwell had stopped talking all the students jumped up from their seats and scurried over to the food line; pushing and shoving each other in order to get first dibs on whatever the cafeteria had to offer. Harry did so as well, eagerly taking part in the mayhem and excited that he'd be getting a proper meal for once - even if it was just cafeteria gruel.

Unfortunately, the boy's height and scrawny build put him at a disadvantage. Thus, he ended up being dead last to get his food. The man serving the meal gave him a pitying look and served Harry his scraps, but Harry was thrilled to be getting the amount of food that he was.

The rest of dinner went fine, and by the end of the meal, Harry was feeling significantly stuffed. He patted his stomach and waited for Farwell to give his orders, which consisted of a concise "Dorms. Now."

Yes, if he followed the rules and kept his head down, then he will be just fine.

Maybe this school wouldn't be so bad after all.


Off towards the front of the room, Tom Riddle was chatting amicably with a few of the senior students while leisurely heading towards his new living situation.


Harry was utterly and hopelessly lost.

Where had the headmaster said the student dorms were again?

After being trampled by the entire student body - therefore making him the last to exit the dining hall - the eleven year old had gone searching for the restrooms, and now he couldn't find his way back to the cafeteria. He had searched and searched, and that had only made him even more lost! Eventually, Harry had given up and decided to head to the dorms, but alas, he could not even remember where Headmaster Farwell had said that they were!

This brought the young boy to his current predicament; searching every floor for the dorms. Unfortunately for the young boy, the layout of the school was a lot more complex and maze-like than its outward appearance... On top of that, Harry only had an hour 'til curfew, and he had hardly finished covering the second floor.

"I'm so screwed…!" Harry groaned to himself as he rounded another corner.


Tom was not impressed with St. Brutus.

He expected this school to be a little more original given its title as a correctional facility. He was expecting a hierarchy of kids leading to the top, most influential students. He was expecting a ladder that he could climb, all the way up, and overthrow whoever was in charge. Blast it! He was expecting a school run by the most cunning and ambitious of Britain's future leaders of organized crime!

What he got was nothing more than a despicable fraternity, lead by a bunch of superstitious immature little boys!

Tom was standing in the side common room of the boy's dormitory and wearing a ceremonial garb. He was covered from head to toe in a long white robe that looked more like Mrs. Cole's nightgown, and the young boy was about to partake in the school's unofficial initiation ceremony. Otherwise known as hazing.

He was not happy. For God's sake, this was absolutely preposterous!

The room was divided in half, between the first years and all the other students. Every one of the first years was wearing the same ridiculous white robes, while only a select few of the older students were donning maroon red cloaks with hoods over their heads and black masks covering each person's entire face. Splitting the two sides, was a small wooden standing table. On it rested a goblet of some dark colored liquid, emulating wine - Tom assumed it was only grape juice, judging by the people he was dealing with - and a needle along with a scrolled up piece of parchment.

A student at the front of the red-cloaks cleared his throat, "We have gathered you all here this evening to induct you into our brotherhood."

Tom wanted to gag at the overdone quality of the speech. This was a complete joke!

The head red-cloak continued, "The headmaster may have informed you of the most basic rules for this school, but there are some unwritten laws you must follow should you not wish to be eaten alive."

It was going to be a long night, Tom sighed and schooled his features. He would have to put up with the idiots until he could change these tasteless ceremonies, and he would be making changes.

"First off, we have an established hierarchy here at St. Brutus. Follow your betters, or suffer the consequences." With that, all the red-cloaks started cracking their knuckles. "We also have a tradition to uphold as students of this institution. This tradition demonstrates the respect we pay to the higher-up students; those with more power and influence."

The mentioning of this managed to garner Tom's interest. It looked like the students did have a form of hierarchy which he could work with.

"We have a step system where older students recruit younger students for assistance in their tasks - whatever they may be. All first and second year students are required to follow one of the older students. If one of the students from third year or up approaches you for this purpose, you are required to accept. Unless of course, another student asks you as well. In cases like these, the older student has priority. If you are - for some reason - to decline an offer, expect consequences... Harsh consequences." The red-cloaks cracked their knuckles for the second time.

'Interesting,' Tom thought to himself. If he were to choose the right person to be his so called 'leader', then he could gain the proper connections and work his way up the miserable ladder. Though the students had been handling the school in a rather cliché manner, it was a starting place that Tom could develop even further to his benefit.

Tom scanned the room, looking for the best candidate to be his mentor of sorts. The person would have to be someone that is easily gullible, but not necessarily a pushover. He would need to have connections with a majority of the people at the top of the school's food chain, and he would need to be in his second to last year of school. That way, once Tom was in his third year, he wouldn't have his 'better' holding him back. Tom would be able to start weaving his way into the schools most prominent circle, uproot it, and build his empire from the bottom up.

He forced his attention back to the school's hidden rules and gathered the other bits of information. He noted that the institute actually did have an underground black market which students could trade through, but only on specific days, lest it become suspicious and they risk getting caught. This black market - or rather 'supply day' as the students had so proudly dubbed it - had everything from porn to video games to actual school supplies, and people could buy with money or barter with other goods they thought were of value.

Tom had no interest in what the underground was selling, but he was intrigued with the idea of being a vendor. The only problem was that he had nothing to sell.

This would take some plotting.


By the time Harry reached the third floor, it had been five minutes past curfew.

Just great, the first day at his new school, and he was already breaking rules!

Harry made another turn and stopped dead in his tracks. He heard two voices in the near distance, and just knew that those voices were not some other students running around after hours.

The two caretakers… Shit!

Harry looked around the hallway and, in a panic, scuttled into the first classroom he laid eyes on. Closing the door as quickly and quietly as possible, Harry took a deep breath and slumped to the ground as he waited for the two guards, Skikes and Hael if he remembered correctly, to pass.

"Heard Farwell's gonna be on'r asses this year." One of the caretakers murmured just outside the door. His voice was low and gruff, like that of a smoker.

"No doubt. The number of students at this school just keeps growing, and we all know he can't stand the kids here." The other caretaker let out a sigh.

"Really though, 'e's a slave driver. How does 'e expect just the two of us to corral all these brats? I mean they're a sneaky bunch. Up to no good I tell yer, but in my entire time at this school, I've only had five drug busts. Five! I know it's just yer first year here, Hael, but with this lot, five drug busts in the span of ten years is s'spicious. I swear, Scarwall may seem overly distrustful of the kids 'ere, but there is a reason for it. We just 'ave li'l proof."

"Guess we'll have to keep a sharper eye out then," Hael laughed sheepishly, "and here I thought being a caretaker would be easier than my past job as a traffic cop in Piccadilly. Instead of loud obnoxious drivers, I'm dealing with spoiled rich kids. Honestly, though, this school is way too expensive for the average family. If any middle class or lower kids are here, I'll wager that either their families really wanted to get rid of them, or they're one of those 'special cases' that the government subsidizes. Hell of a job the school is doing at keeping those kids in line. It's damn hard to cover this entire school with only the two of us."

"Perks of the job muh friend. Perks of the job… At least yer not doin' it alone. I tell yer, my work has become loads easier since yer arrival."

"You're welcome," Hael remarked dryly.

"Anyway..." Skikes droned on, "I say we go get pissed on Farwell's wine stash. He never leaves his quarters on the first night and the same for the brats on the fourth floor. 'Sides, I'm right knackered from guarding the gates all day."

"I dunno John-"

"Ahhh it'll be fine Tim! Trust me, I've done it before~ 'Sides, after the first night our illustrious headmaster practically vanishes from the school 'till the end of the semester." Skikes replied sarcastically.

The two guards' voices slowly disappeared down the hall, and Harry exhaled in relief. At least he didn't have to worry much about getting caught on his way to the dorms now.

The boy took the moment of quiet as an opportunity to recover his nerves and assess his surroundings. Maybe the room had a map of the school somewhere. A dim light from the hallway shined through the dust covered window and allowed for only minimal visibility. Fortunately for Harry, that was enough to get a good look at his surroundings. The room was obviously uninhabited, with boxes piled almost to the ceiling, and the boy realized the area could not have been a classroom because it was too small.

'Maybe it was an office at one point.' Harry thought to himself.

Picking himself up from his spot against the wall, Harry moved around the room. There was a small oak desk that was covered in a thick layer of dust, but even Harry could recognize the craftsmanship that went into creating the table. The boy brushed the collecting dust off a part of the desk and marveled at the etchings on the oak. Intricate vines were sculpted around the perimeter of the small wood desk. Large hydrangea flowers were sculpted at each of the four corners, and the vines at the top twisted and curled to form the words-

"Novus Initium…" the words rolled quietly off of Harry's tongue, though he probably butchered the pronunciation, "I wonder what that means?"

The boy maneuvered around the desk, quickly losing interest in the patterns - as they were a bit too girly for his liking - and peeked into its only drawer hoping to find what he was looking for. Inside lay a small grandfather clock, about the size of a grown man's hand. The clock was made of the same rich wood as the desk and had the same vine design as the front of the table. There was no battery in the clock, so the time wasn't accurate, but the object's presence took Harry out of his little reverie and reminded him of what he really needed to be doing.

Placing the clock back in its drawer and closing it, Harry scanned the room one last time. Sure enough, there was a fire escape map by the door he came in through. There weren't any dorm labeled on the map which meant they had to be on the fourth floor. The eleven-year-old quickly exited the room and made his way to where he now knew the dorms were.


Upon the boy's arrival at the dorms, Harry found no one to be in the common room. The room was populated with only a couple ratty, blue couches and a few scattered wooden chairs. However, on one of the sofas rested a folded piece of white clothing and a paper slip with his initials on it. Harry assumed that he was meant to wear the parcel, so he picked up the fabric and slipped it over his body. It was a small nightgown-like robe: similar to something he'd seen Aunt Petunia wear before bed, except with a hood attached to it.

After a few more looks around the room, Harry noticed a muffled voice coming from down a small hall to the left of the common room. He followed the noise until he came across a room a quarter the size of the dining hall with practically the entire school shoved into it.

Luckily, all the students in white were positioned in front of the room's entrance, so he was able to blend in seamlessly; thankful that his height - or lack thereof - prevented others from seeing his arrival.

Harry didn't think that he had missed anything too important since the rules were presented at dinner, and he didn't want to make himself stand out by asking, so the boy stayed silent and pretended like he had been in the room the entire time.

Eventually, the boy stood on his tiptoes to get a better look at the other side of the room, and he noticed that the person, who Harry had heard talking upon his ingress, was wearing a dark red cloak with a black mask. The red-cloaked boy was unfolding a scrolled up piece of parchment which he then put on display for Harry's side of the room to see.

"Every year, incoming students are required to sign a contract." the head red-cloak stated, his voice at that awkward stage where voice cracks were inevitable, "This contract binds you to the rules that have been set forth, and you will be held accountable if you choose to go against this agreement."

The head red-cloak then picked up a small needle, "When we call your name, you will come up to this table and prick your finger with this needle, you will then place your blood on this contract, and hand us your robe. Only then will you receive your room number. All first-year dorms are down the hall and to the right of the main common room area. When you reach your second year here, then you will be relocated to another room which will be outside of the common room area. I will now begin calling names."

"Addison, David" a plump boy jumped up and aggressively made his way to the small standing table. The boy was a lot like Dudley with his blond hair and pushy demeanor, so Harry made a mental note to avoid the kid.

The names continued.

"Alcott, Benjamin"

"Broomhall, Owen"

"Caplin, Zachary"

"Clevinger, Carter"

"Covell, Morgan"

So on and so forth, the name's went. Harry was starting to get a bit anxious, when his name was finally called.

"Potter, Harry" Harry was relieved to notice that no one was really paying attention to him. His name was in the very middle of the list, so most everyone was zoning out or already in their assigned rooms.

The boy made his way to the standing table in the center of the room.

"Harry Potter, yes?" The head red-cloak surprised Harry by speaking to him when he hadn't to any of the other first years.

"Um, yeah" was the boy's smooth response. There was a moment's pause where Harry had no clue what to do, as the older boy in front of had yet to give him the needle and paper. The kid's eyes scanned over Harry's form, like he was assessing a display at a museum. Then he spoke.

"I have a feeling we'll be seeing each other around." Harry couldn't see the face of the person standing before him, but he got the feeling that the head red-cloak was smirking at him. There was something off about this guy, yet the green-eyed youth couldn't exactly figure out what that something was.

Before the boy could contemplate anymore, the tiny needle was placed in his hand.

"So, I uh, just poke my finger?" Harry asked, trying to delay the unavoidable prick to his finger. He wasn't expecting the hand that gave him the pin to grab hold of his fingers. The head red-cloak directed the needle to his thumb and gave it a slight prick, just enough to draw a single drop of blood. Harry winced, and looking up at the kid in front of him, he could see the boy's eyes darken. The leader's thumb stroked Harry's hand and pressed the boy's thumb on the parchment, and Harry was officially creeped out. However, he didn't want to be rude, so he just ducked his head and waited for the other to let go of his hand. When Harry's hand was finally let go of, he glanced back Harry was greeted with a black mask, mere inches from his face. The leader of the red-cloaks leaned in further, to whisper something into Harry's ear, "Your room number is 412. I'll be seeing you around Harry."

Harry's body was wracked with a shudder of revulsion, and he took that as his cue to leave. Quickly, the boy made a Beeline for his dorm room while desperately trying to ignore the feeling of the creep's eyes on his back.

He just couldn't get a break!


To say that Tom was shocked would be a complete understatement. Harry Potter was real… Living, breathing, Harry Fucking Potter!

Did that mean others from his dream actually existed? Or was it just Harry and him that were real?

Could he actually have magical powers? Tom dismissed that thought as soon as it breached his mind. No, if he had magic, then he would have known that by now.

Either way, the boy's presence should not affect any of his plans. Tom would just need to steer clear of Harry Potter. Besides, judging from the way the head red-cloak was essentially leering at the kid, it was safe to say that there were other things to keep Potter occupied.

If there was anything Tom Riddle learned from his dream - and if any of the dream translated over to reality - it was that Harry Potter is a magnet for trouble, and Tom could not afford trouble.


Chapter 3 End


Author's Note:

To one of the readers who asked a question which I was unable to respond to, I'll answer your question here. Unlike Harry, when Tom wakes up from the dream, it was like waking up from a nightmare. That made it easier to accept reality for what it was. Therefore, he just brushes off the difference in time periods from his dream and real life.

Thanks for reading!