"Kill the spare."

Vivid red eyes boring straight through him. Burning pain ripping his forehead in two.

"Crucio."

A yew wand. Sharp knives stabbing into his body, invisible, non-existent, yet so real.

"Please, not Harry! Take me, kill me instead."

A flash of green light. A high, cold laugh, spitting with insanity.

More cackling.

A man; gaunt face surrounded by limp, dark locks, elegantly falling backwards. Silver veil reaching out swirling tentacles to ensnare him.

"NO! Sirius! NO!"

A black box, thrumming with magic.

Should have known.

It was an odd experience to wake up in the pitch black. Confusing. Disorientating.

In his Gryffindor dorm, the morning light always filtered through his crimson-red drapes, effectively waking him. Even in his cupboard at the Dursleys, light managed to seep in through the cracks under the bottom of the door. In the underground Slytherin dormitory however, there were no windows. No light. Just darkness.

And Merlin, wasn't that ironic?

For a while he lay still and silent in the dark, wanting to put off meeting the future inner circle of Death Eaters for as long as possible. Why couldn't the hat have simply placed him in Gryffindor like it was supposed to? He wasn't a Slytherin. Perhaps if he had been put with the snakes since his first-year, he could've have been. But he hadn't. He was a Gryffindor through and through and no unexpected trip to the past was going to change that.

When he could postpone it no longer for fear of accidentally missing classes, Harry, after taking one last reassuring breath, pulled the green drapes back to meet the penetrating expressions of two boys.

The rest of the dormitory was empty and (thankfully) Riddle-free.

"Harold, wasn't it?" The boy on the right said, his voice light and melodic, hints of aristocracy tainting the tone. He was about Harry's height, perhaps a little shorter and had smooth, ash-brown hair swept across his face in the typical 1940's style.

"You're late," the other snapped before Harry could answer, folding muscular arms tight over his chest. He seemed to be built along the lines of Crabbe and Goyle, though from the way his nose was tilted in disapproval, it appeared the curly-haired boy harboured more brain cells.

The first boy shot his friend a sharp sideways glance, then looked back at Harry and stuck out a hand, smiling again. "Lycoris Avery, pleasure to meet you."

Swallowing a sudden bout of nausea at the all too familiar surname, Harry pushed himself to his feet and shook the hand, seeing no other logical choice if he wished to survive sharing a dorm with the future Death Eaters and their Dark Lord. "Harold Luxtor," Harry said, attempting to return the smile.

"Hurry and and get ready, would you," the burly boy complained nastily. "Or we're going to miss breakfast."

"Marius Lestrange," Lycoris said, jerking his head toward the other boy and rolling his eyes humorously. "As you can tell, he hasn't had his morning coffee yet ..."

Marius scowled furiously and, despite the indirect relation, Harry was forcefully reminded of Bellatrix. The same curling of the lip. The same leering posture. The same patronising tilting of the head. The difference however, rested in the eyes. While Bellatrix's had been dull, savage in their insanity, Marius's were sparkling with life and something akin to happiness.

"Um, right," Harry stuttered, feeling a prickle of foreboding as he turned his back on the Death Eaters to pull a clean set of school robes from his trunk.

A mere five minutes later, he was ready to go.


Tom chewed pensively on his toast, azure eyes carefully watching the entrance to the Great Hall. On his right was Abraxus, chattering idly with Alphard who sat opposite. Although to any prodding eyes, they appeared to be relaxed, normal students, Tom could tell from their tense tones and scattered glances at the door that they too were watching. Waiting.

He would be the first to admit – if he ever admitted to anything - that he didn't know how today would play out. Whether Harold would continue to have the audacity to disrespect him or if he would succumb to the Slytherin court. Tom deeply suspected the latter, though there was something more attractive to the former. There weren't many who had stood up to him; those that did often landed themselves in 'sticky situations'. He wanted to see how far he would have to go to wrap Harold so tightly in his grip that he couldn't escape. Force him to his knees in front of him, begging and totally submissive. A beautiful picture.

When the three Slytherins finally walked past the threshold, Tom gently put his toast back onto his plate, watching the green-eyed boy with undisguised inquisitiveness. He suspected Dumbledore - the manipulative git who always saw too much - of watching his actions with deep scrutiny, but in that moment he couldn't bring himself to care. The Professor was continuously observing him however Tom had come to the conclusion a long time ago that there was nothing the Transfiguration Professor could do. He hardly thought staring at a new student was enough to warrant him a trial with the Wizengamont, whatever Dumbledore's other suspicions.

Lycoris and Marius walked on either side of Harold, their positions startlingly similar to those of guards transporting a prisoner. Harold's murderous expression certainly did nothing to discard the metaphor. Tom indulged himself with a smirk before meeting Harold's eyes.

The smirk died on his face.

Luxtor was glaring at him with pure, undiluted loathing. Hatred so intense that had Tom been anyone else he would have backed away, cowering. As it was, he simply stuck to his seat, eyes widening before he regained control and with conscious effort drew up his mask.

"Harold Luxtor," Tom said by way of greeting, fully aware of how strained his voice sounded.

Lycoris moved around the end of the table to take his position on Tom's left and Marius sat opposite, half dragging Harold down to sit between him and Alphard.

The hatred in the emerald eyes didn't disappear. "Tom Riddle," Harold replied, the words almost spitting from his mouth.

Tom's four 'friends' stilled, expressions displaying a range of emotions; shock, anger, disbelief.

Ignoring them, Tom went back to his toast, feeling the new Slytherin's gaze on him all the while. "Are you going to eat anything?" Tom eventually prompted after Harold had done nothing but glare for several long minutes.

With a jerky movement, Harold grabbed a blood-red apple but didn't eat it, eyeing him cautiously with those vivid green orbs.

"It's not poisoned," Tom told him, raising an eyebrow sardonically.

"Can't be too careful," Harold muttered under his breath, finally taking a bite. The boy continued to glare at him then suddenly turned away, staring down the table, staring at the ceiling, staring at the High Table. Anywhere, Tom noticed, apart from at the small group.

"What do we have first?" Alphard asked in a clear attempt to break the suddenly tense silence. Typical. The Black couldn't stand any type of quietness for longer than thirty seconds. Heaven only knows how he had survived OWLs.

"Defence," Abraxus immediately replied, word slipping off his tongue.

Alphard groaned loudly, leaning back in his seat. "With Merryweather?" He said distastefully, curling his lip. "She's awful."

"Tom would be a much better teacher," Lycoris glanced sideways at him, hazel eyes seeking approval.

Inwardly pleased, Tom smirked but before he could reply he heard a derisive snort from opposite him.

"Something you want to share, Luxtor," Marius said, his deep voice bristling with hostility.

Harold looked airily between them all, absently turning the apple over in his hands and Tom got the very distinct impression that Harold was taking enjoyment in baiting them. In knowing something they didn't. "I simply didn't think the headmaster was one to go around employing sadistic bastards-"

Under the table, Tom's foot collided hard with Marius's shin, successively stopping the boy from throttling Harold. The others all froze, some glaring, some staring wide-eyed at the stupid boy with a too big mouth.

"Oh really?" Tom questioned sweetly, not certain of the emotion rushing through his body. Anger? He didn't think so. Amusement? Wasn't that either. "Then I presume you haven't met Professor Binns? He appears to take excessive pleasure from boring students to death."

Without any warning, Harold stood, swinging a book bag over his shoulder and dumping the half-eaten apple back on the table. "I think I've overstayed my welcome, I'll see you in class." The messy-haired boy span on his heel and stalked away, his movements drawing the eyes of several of the more observant students and teachers.

Once Harold had left, his group all turned warily back to him, flushed patches on their cheeks. Apparently they were just as provoked at insults aimed at Tom as Tom was. How naïve.

Tom's eyes hardened and he looked from student to student, an unfamiliar humiliated anger gnawing inside him. "What exactly did you think you were doing?" Tom inquired of Marius, voice quiet, soft, sparking in danger.

The Lestrange had the decency to go sickly pale. "I-I'm … Sorry-"

Pitiful.

"Don't act hostile, I told you," Tom continued, Harold's abrupt departure stinging his pride. He placed his long, pale hands on the table and leaned forwards, azure eyes glaring daggers at the older boy. "Didn't I?"

"Y-yes, m-my lord."

"That's what I thought." Tom stayed frozen in his position for a moment longer, itching to draw his wand despite the thousands of eyes in the hall. Later, perhaps. He leant back, grabbing his bag from under the table and shot them all a warning glare not to follow him.

It was only once he too had stalked out of the Great Hall that Tom wondered where on earth his sudden anger had come from. He'd always been a little, ah, unstable with his tendencies to lash out at unsuspecting moments. But this, the anger. It felt foreign. As if it wasn't his.

He chewed his lip, feeling uneasy. A side effect of the legilimency practice maybe? Could he somehow be accidentally tapping into others' emotions? He doubted it. He could hardly feel his own emotions, much less someone else's.

Tom took a deep breath, regaining his composure and filing away a mental note to look into it later. He could hardly become a vessel for human feelings, switching between like a ticking human pendulum.

A little unnerved but hiding it firmly behind his façade he headed off to Defence, once again focused on his new 'project'.


Harry was among the first to arrive outside the Defence classroom. The location hadn't changed over the years though he'd had to follow a couple of Ravenclaws to evade suspicion. The new student wasn't exactly going to know his way around a humongous magical castle on his first day.

The anger he'd felt at breakfast had finally ebbed away, leaving him confused and irritable. So Tom thought he could just force Harry to sit with him and all would be fine and dandy, did he? Hell no. He wouldn't be giving into Voldemort that easily.

Harry leant against the cool stone, grateful that the headache from yesterday had all but vanished. Regrettably there was still a painful lump on the back of his head from being smashed against the wall though hopefully that too would soon go; fingers crossed that Riddle wouldn't give him any more injuries in the mean time...

Think of the devil and he shall appear.

Harry bit back a groan as he spotted the familiar dark-haired sociopath walking straight toward him. Ten minutes alone. That was all he wanted. Fate really did hate him.

"Didn't you get that I didn't want to speak to you?" Harry spat once Riddle had come to a stop next to him, mimicking Harry's behaviour and leaning against the wall. The Ravenclaws shot Harry a startled look, most probably amazed that someone wasn't worshipping the very ground the teenage dark lord walked upon.

Bloody dark lord.

Tom seemed to have noticed this too for he raised his eyebrows in amusement, azure eyes flicking to the other students before they rested back on Harry. "What makes you think I was going to speak to you?" He asked politely, smiling in mock confusion. "I could simply be lining up for class."

Harry glared viciously, sure that he'd end up exercising his eyebrows much more than was natural what with being surrounded by infuriating Slytherins. "Of course, that's exactly why you're invading my personal space," Harry said through gritted teeth.

"Well you are standing right by the door," Tom said innocently with a casual gesture to the door on the other side of Harry.

Harry pointedly turned his back on Riddle and moved to the opposite side of the hallway. He was being petty, he knew, but there seemed to be something really satisfying about winding the other boy up.

Predictably, Tom followed him, resuming his position leaning against the wall and raising his eyebrows mockingly, informing him he couldn't escape that easily.

"What's your excuse now?" Harry grumbled, aware that more students had arrived from breakfast, lining up and talking loudly. A group of Hufflepuffs were staring at him with undisguised curiosity. It seemed their head of house had neglected to tell them of his status as a transfer student.

Riddle merely shrugged, azure eyes hardening and focusing intently on Harry's face. The body language was innocent enough, if a little intense, but Riddle's velvety voice sent shivers down Harry's back. "I'm curious about the new student."

"What's so curious about me?" Harry instantly countered, his heartbeat quickening. Riddle holding any kind of interest in him couldn't be anything but bad. He had no doubt that if the child prodigy became too absorbed and dug too deep, he would discover his secret. And Harry didn't need his Dreadful in Divination to predict how events would unfold from there.

"Many things," Riddle purred, voice quiet, soft and pensive. It was impossible to decipher the intent behind the words; the mask.

Harry inconspicuously wiped his suddenly sweaty palms on his school robes, eyes flickering behind Riddle's shoulder and landing on the posse of Death Eaters. "Looks like your followers are missing you, why don't you go harass them?" He hadn't been lying. The group of four were standing closer together than was normal, worriedly eyeing the dark lord, twisting their fingers, biting their lips.

Riddle didn't move.

There was a wheezy cough and Harry, desperate for a distraction, looked toward the door to see an aged witch pursing her lips at the non-existent neat line of students. "Well? What are you waiting for?" She snapped, her voice much stronger than her frail appearance. "In, all of you."

The phrase 'saved by the bell' sprung to mind.

Harry obediently complied, firmly turning his back on Riddle and hoisting his bag further up on his shoulder.

The Defence classroom hadn't changed much; a few posters on the wall perhaps and the layout of the desks. Otherwise, Harry may have been magically transported back to his own time. So similar were the rooms that Harry half expected Hermione and Ron to be sitting in their seats, beckoning for him to join them.

They weren't.

He dawdled at the back, unsure of where to sit. It seemed that everyone else already had their places, chattering with friends as they pulled their belongings from their bags. Wands, Harry saw. Not just books. His stomach jolted. The hassle of the morning had caused him to forget that little blip. The fact that Riddle and he wouldn't be able to attack each other - with their wands, that is to say. He would happily punch the git.

"Mr. Luxtor," the Defence professor - Merryweather, he remembered one of the Death Eaters calling her - grabbed his attention. "If you could take that seat there." She gestured impatiently to a seat near the back, mercifully as far away from Riddle as he was likely to get. Maybe fate wasn't that mad at him.

Harry dumped his bags under the appointed desk, falling into a chair next to a Hufflepuff boy with sandy hair and pale blue eyes.

"Hullo," the boy said, smiling goofily but his eyes rested uncertainly on Harry's Slytherin robes.

"Hi," Harry replied wearily, running a hand through his messy hair and taking a sheet of parchment, a quill and an ink pot from his bag.

Encouraged, the boy's smile widened, distrust fading slightly. "I'm Ralph Timby," he introduced.

"Harold Luxtor," Harry said shortly, disturbed at how easily the name formed in his mouth. Was he already that familiar with this timeline? This identity?

Their conversation was cut short by Professor Merryweather clearing her throat again, scowling around at the class. "Wands out, everyone," she declared in her raspy tone. "Today we're going to be continuing our work on duelling..."

Duelling? Harry blinked, surprised. Apart from the hopeless attempt at a duelling club hosted by a fraud and a Death Eater, current-day Hogwarts had never really focused on that aspect of magic, choosing to teach spells instead. Shame. Duelling would've been damn useful.

He listened, paying rapt attention, as Merryweather outlined the type of fighting they were aiming for; evasive techniques. Flight, not fight. She had them split off into pairs and for a terrible moment of suspension, he'd thought fate would be a git and place him with Riddle – it didn't, thank goodness. Ralph readily agreed to partner with him for which Harry was grateful; the Slytherins had been shooting him leering glances.

"Stupefy."

"Protego."

"Expelliarmus."

Harry niftily caught Ralph's wand as it flew in a graceful arc through the air. In an attempt to hide behind a desk that had been propped up by the wall in order to make room for the duels, the blue-eyed boy had let down his shield, allowing Harry to attack. In a way, it was too easy.

"Very nice Mr. Luxtor," he heard Merryweather praise as she shuffled around the room, trying to dodge haphazardly cast spells.

Harry's lips tugged upwards at the praise. He turned and threw the wand back to Ralph who stumbled, fumbling to catch it. "Your turn."

Despite his clumsiness, the Hufflepuff smirked. "You'll regret you ever did that, Luxtor! Imperdimenta!"

"Protego."

Little did Harry notice the azure eyes that were rested solely upon him, hungrily drinking in his every move.

A/N: Thank you for all the wonderful reviews. They make my day! Whenever I read them I promptly smile like an idiot... Sorry this chapter was a little filler-y but I don't like having huge chapters and it was needed so... there you go. More action next time.