Harry could barely believe it. He was sat on the bed that was to be his for the rest of the summer in an old musty smelling house that apparently Sirius had grown up in. It was late, Ron shared the room but was already asleep in the bed by the opposite wall snoring loudly of course. He had only spent 2 weeks at the Dursleys house, a fact for which he was very grateful. He was almost thankful that the dementors had attacked, he didn't know how long Dumbledore would have made him stay at that hellish place if not. It had been a maddening few weeks of keeping to himself and avoiding the Dursleys, although they were at least so scared of Sirius that they had allowed him free movement in and out of the house – as long as he was back before Dudley of course.
Harry lay back in his bed, pulling the covers close around his neck and shuddering as he relieved the attack in his mind as he stared into the blackness. It made no sense for Dementors to have been in Little Whinging, and it seemed far too much of a coincidence that they had attacked him of all people. His first thought was that Voldemort had sent them, that he had regained his memories and escaped. Not that he would know, he thought bitterly, neither Ron, Hermione nor Sirius had given him any indication of what had happened to the young Dark Lord, despite his questions on the matter. Resentful thoughts swirled around Harry's head until at last he gave in to the weariness of his journey and surrendered to the darkness as sleep claimed him.
The next thing he knew Mrs Weasley was rapping on the door to the bedroom.
"Up, come on boys, breakfast's ready."
Ron groaned across the room from him, sitting up sleepily and looking blurrily across to Harry. His eyes widened when he realised what he was seeing,
"Blimey, Harry! When did you get here?"
Harry's voice held just a hint of ice as he answered, "Dunno, early hours of the morning."
Ron stood up. Even in the short time since Harry had last seen him it seemed that Ron had grown. Several inches of ankle showed as the lanky red head bounded across the room to the foot of Harry's bed.
"Well at least you're here now!" He said happily, "It's been a bit weird to have Hermione here but not you. This place is horrible isn't it? Can't believe Sirius used to live here, proper dark wizard's place you know?"
Harry grunted noncommittally, still avoid eye contact and trying to control his anger as Ron continued.
"Mind you I 'spose it's not surprising considering that horrid portrait, if I had that for a mother I'd have run away to." He shuddered, "Mind you Mum makes us spend most of our days cleaning so I might just consider it. Nearly half of the house is safe now though so you should be alright, but we've found some really weird things."
A knock came from the door, "Ron, get out of bed! Your mum says if you don't come down soon you'll miss breakfast."
"Hermione, come in, look who finally got here!"
Hermione's bushy head rounded the door to see a grinning Ron, then her eyes found Harry. Squealing, she rushed towards him and enveloped him in a hug.
"Oh Harry, I'm so glad you're here, we've got so much to tell you!" She pulled back, smile faltering as she registered the scowl on his face.
"Harry?" she said the name tentatively, "Are you ok?"
Something snapped inside as Harry met her eyes,
"Oh, so now you're concerned are you?" The sneer in his voice didn't sound like him at all, "Now you have things to tell me. You didn't think that might have been useful when I was stuck in a house full of muggles that hate me?"
"I – Harry, we -"
"Oh don't bother. I'll just continue lying in flower beds to get my information shall I?" The volume of Harry's voice was quickly rising as he let the anger out.
"What? Wait - flowerbeds?"
"Well how else am I supposed to get any information? Obviously I don't have friends willing to tell me anything!" Hermione's eyes were starting to glisten with tears and Ron looked horrified.
"We wanted to mate…" He tried to placate Harry.
"'Wanted to', what, someone had your hands tied? All it would have taken was a few stupid words. I've spent the last few weeks scavenging in dustbins for newspapers looking for any disasters in the world that might indicate that Voldemort had regained his memories and restarted his terror campaign. You must know something about what happened to him!" Harry's voice had an edge of hysteria as he finally voiced the worry and resentment that had been eating at him, "Considering I'm the first one he'll kill I think I have a right to know to!"
The room went dead silent for a moment. Unexpectedly the sound that broke the silence did not come from Harry's stunned best friends.
"I'd rather hope I had greater priorities than a teenage boy." The smooth voice that Harry new all too well drifted across the room. Harry's head whipped up to find Tom Riddle stood in the doorway, face expressionless. The young man's eyes swept over him, picking out each detail to the point that Harry felt exposed.
"Anyway, if you're quite done shouting you might want to go to eat?" Riddle paused a moment, still giving him that evaluative stare before he swept away down the landing.
"He's here?" Harry rounded on Ron and Hermione face flushing with embarrassment.
"We tried to tell you but you wouldn't stop shouting!" Hermione looked exasperated, "And for your information we couldn't warn you over the summer because Dumbledore made us swear not to put anything about Riddle in a letter. He said that the Death Eaters will have realised who he is by now and are probably trying to find him."
Harry saw the sense in her words, as much as he didn't want to admit it. Still red-faced he mumbled an apology and followed Ron and Hermione as they went downstairs towards the kitchen, treating him as if her were a bomb likely to explode. The house didn't look much less creepy in the light of day than it had in the pitch black last night and he had no trouble believing that this was the ancestral home of 'the most noble and ancient house of Black'. He was soon distracted however by the smells emanating from behind the door that led to the kitchen. It was only as they drew closer that Harry realised exactly how hungry he was, his stomach protesting violently against the fact that he had not eaten the night before.
Unfortunately, he was prevented from correcting this oversight as when he entered the kitchen, there were many exclamations of surprise followed by hugs and hand shaking. He caught Sirius' eye over the shoulder of Mrs Weasley and saw him wink, grinning. Sirius himself had met Harry when he arrived in the early hours and, once he had managed to distract himself from the tangle of limbs that was the Weasley family, Harry went over to sit by him grabbing food as he went.
"So," Sirius leaned over speaking quietly, "you told them about the dementors attack."
Harry looked at him blankly before realising what he was referring to, "Ah, no not yet, didn't think first thing in the morning was the best time."
Sirius raised an eyebrow, "So what was the shouting about then?"
Harry felt a red wave creep up to cover his face, before he realised that Ron and Hermione hadn't been the only ones to keep information from him.
"The lack of letters that actually told me anything important." His voice sounded accusatory. Sirius understood instantly.
"I'm sorry Harry, I know what it's like to be kept isolated," His face had darkened and Harry immediately felt bad for saying anything. Before he could apologise however, Remus Lupin walked down the table towards them. He slumped down next to Sirius and began to talk quietly to him so that Harry couldn't hear, but gave him a little wave. Lupin had been in the team that had taken Harry from his Aunt and Uncle's the night before and had greeted him properly then. The only other member of the team that had stayed over in the house was a young auror named Tonks, whom Harry had seen leaving (presumably for work) as he went down the stairs for breakfast.
While Sirius and Remus talked, Harry turned his attention to Fred and George who were levitating pieces of cutlery with their wands and having mock battles with them. Harry smiled and cheered along with the others, for a moment forgetting his embarrassment and anger and just enjoying having his friends back.
It was much later in the day when Harry finally got some time to himself. He had not seen Riddle again since that moment before breakfast but the young man had certainly not been far from his mind. Apparently the others didn't see him much. Hermione had said that he studied during the days, that Lupin was helping him acclimatise to a world 50 years after his last memory. Harry wondered if his friend was aware of the true nature of the young man that he was tutoring, or indeed if Riddle was aware of the true nature of his tutor.
Harry himself had spent the large majority of the day on cleaning duty. Mrs Weasley had taken personal offense to the lack of habitable rooms according to Sirius and consequently she had drafted anyone that didn't have much to do into her army and promptly begun waging war. So it was that Harry's muscles ached having spent the day wrestling with dark objects that did not want to be removed from their proper places. His neck was especially sore due to a particularly ugly old maroon bedspread that had decided to strangle him when they had tried to remove it for Mrs Weasley to clean.
Slowly, he drifted through the dark corridors of the derelict house. His mind, now away from the others, had strayed towards his ministry hearing. What would happen if they decided to expel him? Well, Sirius had offered him a home once, surely he would be able to live with him if they snapped his wand. There was a tall dark door looming ominously above him, considering living with Sirius would mean he would probably live here he wasn't sure that was a good thing. Harry grasped the bronze handle, feeling the cold metal keenly in the unheated passage. He felt lost, fear filling him as he imagined a return to muggle life.
A moment passed with him stood there, hand on the handle as time suspended around him. Suddenly Harry's mind caught up with him, remembering his Gryffindor determination. One thing was for certain, he thought as he firmly turned the handle and entered the room, he would not let them take his wand away. If they tried, he would not go quietly.
The room he had entered was a library. Shelves with books of every shape size and colour lined the walls, masking any windows that might have hidden behind. Consequently ornate gilded torches lined the place casting deep shadows across the deep carpet, stretching from the legs of the opulent furniture; 5 plush reading chairs surrounding an intricately carved table for books. Harry's eyes caught a dusting of dark hair above the back of the closest chair, the one that faced away from him. Slowly he stepped forwards revealing Tom Riddle smiling pleasantly.
"Harry Potter, how nice of you to join me." He lounged easily, indicating the chair to his left, "Please, sit. I've done a lot of reading since we last met, and I've been waiting all summer for the opportunity for us to have a proper conversation now I'm more up to date."
