Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Pretend that I had this disclaimer in Chapter 1, yeah?

A/N: I'm still not done with Chapter 4 (boo!) because Real Life is too much fun. That said, it'll definitely be done by the end of the week. If I'm not lazy, by Wednesday (though it'll still have to go through editing). This chapter features a new scene that wasn't there before. Also, this chapter is shorter than the first two, but this is actually much closer to my usual chapter length. Future chapters will probably be 4-5k words in length, not 6k+.

A week later and Riddle still hadn't done anything remotely suspicious. Of course, I thought, it was a lot easier to bide one's time than to watch somebody else doing it.

She was currently situated on the couch in the Slytherin common room, reading an advanced Transfiguration text, acting completely innocent. I snorted. She had to be up to something, and the sooner I could figure out what it was, the sooner I could try to convince Dumbledore to get rid of her. I wasn't sure what Dumbledore hoped to gain her, but after some thinking I decided that the risk was not commensurate with the reward, given that I wasn't being kept in the loop. Perhaps I could force the issue – not that I would reveal any knowledge I had of her, but I could unintentionally strike some sore spots.

I strode over and dropped onto the couch opposite of her. "So, Riddle, what are you planning?"

She glanced up and I felt a trickle of irritation flow through me. How could she maintain such a calm façade all day, every day?

"What do you mean?" she asked.

I raised my eyebrows. "Well, surely you plan to continue your work to wipe out the unworthy?"

Her expression shifted into a slight frown. If I hadn't been intent on shaking her up, I doubt I would have noticed. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

I gave her a mocking smile. "Don't play innocent with me. Your, ah, counterpart was rather intent on killing off muggles and muggleborn."

She returned my mocking smile, inch for inch. "Surely you were paying attention in Dumbledore's office? I thought I made it very clear that I could not account for my future self's actions – the fracturing of my soul seemed to have driven me insane, though I cannot say for certain."

"And your soul isn't fractured now?" I pressed, sensing an opening.

"No," she responded, her expression going blank.

I cursed inwardly. I should have known it wasn't going to be that easy, but I had been so close… Not giving up, I sought another avenue of attack. "Your dislike of muggles didn't appear from nowhere, did it?"

She regarded me with a wary eye. "How much has Dumbledore told you of my history?"

"Oh, some," I smirked. "You grew up in an orphanage, didn't you?"

"Yes," she spat out. "My experience with the muggles left much to be desired."

"Relying on anecdotal evidence, are we?" I teased in a sing-song voice. I could almost see the anger rolling off her. "I mean, I was orphaned too," shooting her a pointed glare.

She glared back at me.

"I know, I know… not your fault," I mocked her. "And yet, while my aunt and uncle may not have loved me as they did their own son, they didn't hate me, either."

By now she was fully focused on me. "I'm sure they just didn't want to provoke your wrath. The children at the orphanage learned quickly not to cross me."

"Observation bias," I mused. "No, I'm pretty sure they were just being good people. You're letting your limited experience influence your perceptions of everybody else. It's not only stupid but dangerous, and I didn't think you were much for stupid and dangerous."

She turned away, not looking at me. I knew I had won the argument, though the rush of satisfaction I had expected failed to materialize.

We sat in silence for a moment. "What do you want from me?" she whispered.

Suddenly, I was unsure what exactly I had hoped to achieve with this conversation. It wasn't this, this terrible silence, nor was it the pain I could sense flickering beneath her frozen mask of indifference.

I swept away without another word.

I panted and wiped the sweat from my brow, holding my wand aloft.

"Again," Snape demanded. "You are very near being able to break through it completely – I am sure you can accomplish this today."

I stared at the target, which had reformed once more. It was an enchanted dummy whose purpose was to train duelists to break through various shield charms. The dummy could be enchanted with a variety of shields, and to pierce it completely with a spell indicated that the same spell would go through the same shield cast by a wizard.

"Sectumsempra," I hissed, lashing out with my wand. The spell struck the dummy in the chest, cleaving through it. I groaned in disappointment. The spell had left perhaps a couple centimeters left in the back – the top half would have fallen over, otherwise.

"Once more!" Snape growled. "You are not focusing enough on the intent of the spell; your wand must be a blade wreaking destruction on your enemy! Use Occlumency if you cannot concentrate," he sneered, and repaired the dummy for another go.

Focusing on clearing my mind, I nodded. I had been rather distracted recently and it was showing. Sectumsempra – it was a spell I suspect that Snape had invented, as I thought I would have run across it in my perusal of the Dark Arts, given its power and versatility.

I had found, to my surprise, that the Dark Arts came as easily to me as normal combat magic, if not even faster. I harbored a slight suspicion that was not entirely due to my own talents, but I wasn't complaining. Sectumsempra, specifically, was a spell that I had learned to cast effectively more quickly than usual. Now I was focusing on increasing its power and precision.

My mind had cleared and I felt a cold stability return to me. Focusing on the invisible blade, the cutting, slashing, rending of flesh that it would accomplish, I slashed my wand forward. "Sectumsempra!"

I watched in exultation as the top half of the dummy was separated from the rest and bounced off the wall behind it.

"Good," Snape complimented. "That was my most powerful standard shield charm. While the Dark Lady is unlikely to use it in combat, you may be able to catch her off-guard. It is possible that she will underestimate you, though she knows that you have no aversion to the Dark Arts from our encounter last year."

I nodded. "What kind of shields is she likely to use?"

Snape thought for a moment and then responded. "If I remember correctly," he started, slow and thoughtful, "then she did not rely on magical shields very much, if at all. The Dark Lady was generally fast enough to avoid being hit, and used Transfiguration to her advantage. The Headmaster was the only one who could ever best her, and on the one occasion I saw them duel she resorted to an esoteric physical shield which seemed to have very strong negating properties, though I doubt it could withstand a killing curse. The shield was large and unwieldy, and it is unlikely she will turn to it against you. You can use her propensity for Transfiguration against her, though you will have to show her that simply slinging curses is useless."

I grunted, barely comprehending the spontaneous lecture. Casting the Dark Arts for such lengths made my brain tired, and the clarity I gained from Occlumency was fragmenting again, leaving me fuzzy and irritated.

Snape smirked. "I see that you have worn yourself out, Potter. Your stamina is also something we will have to work on. I think we are done for today, however."

I mumbled a goodbye and left, planning on taking a short nap.

Entering the Slytherin common room, I noticed Riddle sitting on a couch, looking almost as tired as I felt.

"What's with you?" I asked.

She glared at me. "What do you care?"

I glared back at her, suddenly irritated. "I suppose I don't," I ground out and brushed past her, going to my dorm.

Flopping onto my bed, I tried to clear my mind. Lately, I'd had trouble falling asleep without Occlumency. I had meant to ask Professor Snape about it, but it kept slipping my mind.

Having cleared my mind, I fell into an uneasy slumber.

I started to fall back into my routine over the next week, or as much as I could while still keeping an eye on Riddle. She seemed to be sleeping better, I noticed, though I refrained from approaching her again, not wanting a repeat of our previous conversation.

Nonetheless, her presence seemed determined to distract me at every opportunity. I was working on a Transfiguration essay when I felt her walk into the common room.

"Riddle," I said, turning to face her, "is there something you want?"

"Hardly, Potter," she replied with a frown, sitting down on an armchair with a book.

I grunted and turned back to my essay, but I could sense her sitting behind me, worrying away at my concentration like a dog at a bone.

Putting my quill down, I turned back to her again. "Well, spit it out already."

She looked at me. Opening her mouth to ask a question, she hesitated and seemed to change her mind. "Where do you go for Christmas Break? Surely you don't go back to your… guardians."

I stared at her, face blank but fighting confusion inside. Where had that come from? I decided to answer her – after all, she could ask anybody else and get the same answer. "I visit my Godfather."

She went back to her reading without a reply. I picked up my quill again, but found myself distracted by more than just the knowledge of Riddle sitting behind me.

November passed into the frosty winds of December and I found myself summoned to the Headmaster's office.

As I rode the staircase up to his office, I wondered what he wanted to talk about. My discrete surveillance of Riddle was the most likely conclusion, though it was possible that he wanted to relay some information on the Dark Lady herself.

"Harry, my boy, have a seat," Dumbledore greeted me with his usual warmth.

I sat down in the plush armchair. "Hello, Headmaster."

"How do you find your classes, Harry?" Dumbledore enquired, beginning the usual exchange of formalities.

I gave him a slight smile. "They're going fine, sir; thank you." I had started to enjoy the Headmaster's company more and more in the recent months. While at first it had been difficult to relax, remembering the momentous revelations that each visit to his office had signaled, his company now seemed more like a shelter from the storm of the world.

"Good, I am glad to hear that. And how is Miss Riddle doing?" he asked, forming a seamless segue into what I suspected was the true topic of our conversation.

How was she doing? Shifting in my seat, I wondered what exactly the Headmaster meant. "She seems to be doing fine, sir," I replied after a momentary pause. "I haven't noticed her doing anything suspicious."

"Indeed," Dumbledore replied, stroking his beard. "Have you engaged in any conversations with her?"

I nodded and awaited the next question, already knowing what it would be.

Dumbledore peered at me, and with an all-too-casual air asked, "And what exactly have you discussed?"

The Headmaster was no novice at the game of subtle inquisitions, I thought, but I recognized the direction the conversation was taking from what little experience I had in the power plays of Slytherin.

I started to answer his question, but then I hesitated. Riddle hadn't given me much to work with, in truth. We'd had all of two conversations, neither very meaningful, and the only things I had gleaned were her non-verbal reactions to things I said. However, I didn't want to let Dumbledore know that I baited her. A common Slytherin tactic it may have been, I had no doubt that the Headmaster would disapprove.

In addition, I didn't feel like revealing her moment of weakness during our first talk. I wasn't sure what I had said in the first place to garner such a response, and my perception of it had been nothing more than a vague feeling hovering just on the edge of awareness.

So what came out of my mouth was rather less than a blow-by-blow description of our two brief interludes. "Not much, really. The first time I talked to her, I asked her some questions, which she ignored or avoided. The second time she asked me where I went for Christmas holidays."

Dumbledore sat in silence for a moment, thinking through my response. "Very well. Severus and I have observed a similar lack of suspicious activity, though I believe it prudent to continue to keep watch. I think that will be all for tonight, Harry."

Dismissed, I made my way from Dumbledore's office back to the Slytherin common room.

I trundled into the library, humming merrily in anticipation of the holidays. Ignoring Madam Pince as she shushed me, I dropped into my customary seat.

"Ta, Jerry," I thanked the Ravenclaw sitting across from me.

"No problem," Jerry mumbled, not looking up from his book. "Are you done with McGonagall's essay? I've got it up to here with her essays."

I chuckled, pulling out my own book. "Almost, yeah. I think she's under the impression that if she gives us less work this year, we'll get used to the smaller workload and suffer during our NEWT year."

Jerry looked up and frowned. "Well she can shove her ideas up where the sun don't shine, yeah? I mean, we're taking seven NEWTs each - who cares about the effects of switching charms on animated objects? Doesn't leave any time for our own research," he grumbled.

I smiled at his frustration. Jerry was a true Ravenclaw, and schoolwork sometimes got in the way of that.

"Well, mate," I drawled, scratching a few lines onto my almost-completed essay, "maybe we should have dropped Herbology when we had the chance. It's not like we're going to be healers or anything."

Jerry gave me a gimlet eye. "Aren't you going into cursebreaking? That definitely needs Herbology."

I shrugged my shoulders. "There aren't that many deadly plants out there. If there was anything that I didn't learn up to my OWLs, then I could have just bought A Compendium of Deadly Magical Plants (and Fungi)."

"Ah, Christmas," Sirius said, wistful. "How many a frosty morn did we spend liberating the Hogwarts kitchens of their delicious foods?"

Remus smiled at him. "Oh, some. But I remember you being more interested in setting up pranks for the returning Slytherins than pilfering the kitchens."

"I may have that at that, indeed," Sirius grinned. "So, Harry, what do you want to eat for Christmas dinner?"

I glanced at the kitchen, amused. We trusted nothing that Kreacher, Grimmauld Place's house elf, ever cooked, and Sirius' cooking was terrible. Remus could produce edible fare, but nothing fancy, so we had taken to ordering out for the holidays.

"Oh, I don't know," I mused. "How about Chinese takeout?"

Sirius chortled. "Chinese takeout for Christmas? Well, I guess we can make it work."

Remus gave a neutral hum. "Well, if we're going for, ah, non-traditional foods, then I want sushi."

Sirius made a face and gave a dramatic shudder. "How you can eat raw fish, I will never know."

"Well, Sirius, it's rather like how you eat bubble'n'squeak. You like it despite the fact that it looks about as appetizing a pile of dog droppings," Remus responded with an air of infinite patience.

"Enough," I waved my hands. "We'll get you your sushi, Remus, and we'll get me my Chinese takeout, and we'll get Sirius his bubble'n'squeak, or whatever."

"There's nothing wrong with fried vegetables," Sirius proclaimed. "But anyways, Harry, tell us about what's been happening up at Hogwarts. Dumbledore mentioned something about a Basilisk, but he didn't go into any detail."

"Oh, right," I responded, fishing for time. While Dumbledore hadn't asked me to keep anything quiet, I understood the necessity for secrecy. At the same time, I trusted Sirius and Remus not to go shouting about Horcruxes from the rooftops. I just wasn't sure how to explain the presence of a teenage Riddle at Hogwarts.

"Well, this first year, Ginny Weasely, she went missing on Halloween, so the staff mobilized a search and we Prefects were part of it. Through a series of, ah, fortunate coincidences, I found the mythical Chamber of Secrets. Do either of you know what a Horcrux is?" I asked.

When both Sirius and Remus responded in the negative, I continued. "Well, the Dark Lady Voldemort decided to split her soul to make herself immortal, and a Horcrux is the container for the split soul-piece. It turns out, actually, that the locket we found the summer before my fifth year was one. Anyways, the first one she ever made was a diary, which somehow found its way into Weasely's hands. She ended up being possessed by the soul fragment inside, which forced her to go into the Chamber, and the soul fragment started draining Ginny's life in order to resurrect itself. I, of course, manage to stumble upon them before the process is finished, and Riddle releases the Basilisk hidden in the chamber. I'd figured out what was inside before I went in, so I was prepared for it."

At this point, Remus interrupted me. "Wait, Harry, how did you protect yourself from the Basilisk's gaze?"

I shrugged. "I filtered out the light going through my glasses and charmed them to detect magic instead, so I could still see it. The way I see it, I need to actually see the Basilisk's eyes to die."

Remus perked up. "Actually, I took the liberty of doing some research on Basilisks," at which Sirius and I laughed, "Yes, yes, very funny – obviously, there hasn't been very much experimentation done on the subject of their deadly eyesight, but there is some conjecture. We know that petrifaction occurs when the eyes are seen in a reflection or through a visible distortion, but magic doesn't reflect of non-magical objects like mirrors and puddles of water. So it makes more sense that the Basilisk is always emitting a field of magic which kills anything in its vicinity when the victim sees the Basilisks eyes. Of course, that doesn't make sense from an evolutionary perspective, but given that Basilisks can only be created deliberately, it's likely that it's a magically engineered trait."

Sirius stared at Remus in fascination, while I nodded in agreement. "That makes sense based on the fact that I'm not dead or petrified. Of course, I didn't actually take down the Basilisk. What actually happened was that I heard the Hogwarts professors arriving, because I had sent off a ghost to alert them before I went in, and I ran into Riddle's incorporeal form. And, uh, that hurt a lot and I blacked out. Headmaster Dumbledore thinks that I was a Horcrux, and Riddle absorbed the piece of soul inside me when I ran into her. Now we have a sixteen-year old Tom Riddle taking classes at Hogwarts," I finished, lamely.

Sirius stared at me in bewilderment. "So what you're saying is that you accidentally reincorporated a younger version of the Dark Lady?"

I ducked my head in embarrassment.

Sirius continued on, oblivious. "And what's Dumbledore thinking, letting her free like that?"

At this point I interjected, not wanted Sirius to misinterpret the situation. "Well, actually, the Headmaster made her take some Unbreakable Vows. I don't know what they are, but I trust his judgment."

Sirius slumped in his chair, deflated, while Remus looked thoughtful. "Perhaps he wishes to use her a source of information?"

"Maybe. It's what I would do in his position, probably," I shrugged in response.

"Well," Sirius ran a hand through his hair, "I trust I don't have to warn you to be careful around her."

"Of course not," I reassured him. "I've been keeping a close eye on her."

Perhaps I should have been more subtle in my spying, though I was hard-pressed to figure out how. Now that I was back at Hogwarts from break, I resumed my surveillance, but found myself stymied. It seemed that every time I so much as stole a glance at Riddle, she managed to catch my eyes. Frustrated at this turn of events, I resolved to ignore her for a while and see if I could catch her off-guard later. Of course, I should have known better than to imagine that she wouldn't get curious.

"Potter."

I grunted in reply. Riddle had been staring at the back of my head from across the common room for a while now, but I had ignored her in favor of continuing to read. It was obvious that she had gotten tired of the treatment.

"Potter!" she barked.

"What?" I looked over my armchair, sending her a mulish look.

She smirked. "Do you know how irritating it is to have somebody staring at you all day?"

I scowled at her, not deigning myself with a reply.

Her smirk grew into a malicious grin. "I imagine you will soon."

"Uh-huh," I dismissed her, pointedly turning back to my book.

She walked back to the other side of the common room, but I could feel her eyes on me for the rest of the night.

I wasn't about to make her newfound task of annoying me easy for her, though.

Looking around the abandoned classroom, I let out a sigh. It was one of many that I had found over the years at Hogwarts, and I rather hoped that Riddle didn't know about it. I realized it was unlikely, though. Riddle must have searched the entire castle trying to find the Chamber of Secrets.

On the other hand, if she knew where every place I might hide was, it was that many more she would have to search through to find me.

I had cleaned off the dust, but it was still rather dreary. The only reason I wasn't studying in my dormitory were my roommates, who were often intolerably loud.

Luck was not on my side, though. Half an hour later the door slammed open, and Riddle marched in with an insufferable expression of smugness on her face.

I let my head fall backward, hanging over the chair. "What do you want?"

Somehow I didn't have it in me to find her presence more than a vague irritation. In fact, I felt a slight amusement at the thought that she was wasting her time and energy looking for me.

"Nothing," she drew out the word, savoring it. "Just wanted to see what you were up to." She gave me a cheery smile.

I returned a mocking grin. "Well, you've seen, now bugger off."

She raised an eyebrow at me. "Is that any way to speak to a lady?"

I snorted.

She shrugged. "Point. But it's still rude."

"And you barging in here isn't?" I shot back.

She put on her best innocent expression and I fought the urge to snort again. It was clear that I wasn't going to get any more studying done, so I packed up and left for the common room, brushing my way past her.

My hideout had been discovered, but I wasn't worried. I had plenty of places to hole up in. Unfortunately, it seemed that Riddle had a knack for finding me. I checked for tracking spells on my person, my clothing, and my belongings, but came up clean. It was possible that she was using tracking spells after the fact to divine my location, so I started warding my hideouts.

Either I was doing something wrong, or Riddle was particularly gifted with this branch of magic, because she found me found me every time without fail, despite my best efforts.

Growing desperate, I sought help from the hidden servants of Hogwarts – the house-elves.

Walking into the kitchens, I looked around. The hustle and bustle was familiar, reminiscent of three years ago when I caught Wormtail here. This time I was visible, however, and a house-elf soon scampered up to me.

"How may we be of service, Master Harry Potter?"

I looked at the elf, trying to figure out the best way to phrase my request. "Well, I'm looking for a place in the castle to hide from somebody. The thing is, I've tried a bunch of abandoned classrooms, but she keeps finding me, even though I put up wards. Do you know any actual secret hiding spots in the castle?"

The house-elf nodded its head, ears flopping. "There is the Come-and-Go room, or the Room of Requirements. It makes itself whatever Master wishes it to be. Master Harry Potter may find it on the seventh floor corridor near the statue of Barnabas the Barmy – walk back and forth in front of the wall three times, thinking of what you need, and the Room will appear."

"Thank you very much," I gave the elf a smile and left.

Marching up to the wall in the seventh-floor corridor, I decided to test out the room first.

I need a bathroom, I repeated in my head as a mantra, walking back and forth three times. A door appeared in the wall, and I strode in.

I glanced around, marveling in the room's power. It had patterned itself after the Prefect's bathroom, except it seemed made for one person. Realized I actually needed to use the facilities, I conducted my business and exited the room, watching the door shrink back into nothingness.

My next request to the Room was for a quiet place to study, and it exceeded my expectations. The Room was now a miniature of the Slytherin common room, with the same upholstery, a couch in front of a flickering fire, and padded armchairs. It was, in a word, perfect.

The perfection was shattered an hour later, when the door opened and Riddle walked in, looking supremely pleased with herself.