{A/N} Title credit to JYJ's Fallen Leaves. Extra long chapter for long wait? ;) But note that it's AU, especially for this chapter about Merlin.

Chapter 4

Harry hummed softly, tapping his foot leisurely as he scanned through the various books in the Restricted Section of the library. After quite some time, he had finally finished reading and practicing on de-warding a couple of days ago and was now looking for other books to move onto other branches of magic.

When he had first started out initially, there were just so many types of magic that he hadn't explored and it frustrated him to no end. He was so overwhelmed upon exploring the Restricted Section because it made him realize that even if he had covered all the Hogwarts material, there was just so much more he still didn't know about. Hogwarts, he realized belatedly, had only taught a small branch of magic and there was much that the students hadn't even heard of, let alone imagined.

The branch of magic that Hogwarts students had been taught by the professors was merely the basics to survive in the Wizarding World. Even so, Harry doubted that his professors really knew about other forms of magic, unless they too went about their own research.

Other more controversial forms like Blood Magic, Dark Arts, Necromancy, and Legilimency to name a few were only briefly touched upon in the seventh year, but most of them weren't even introduced. He could hardly believe that such wide range of magic could be casted away like that, especially when he delved further into them and learned even more. There was a lot of potential that had been wasted because they were deemed as "dark magic".

Mournfully, he wished that these were part of the curriculum at Hogwarts. Some might have said that Durmstrang was a better alternative, but even they didn't start on these until their seventh year. He might have been able to teach himself through the books and notes, but it was a slow process to learn alone. It would have been a lot more efficient if there were professors to guide him and point out to him his mistakes and the important steps. The wand movements were another complicated part that often made him confused as there was only so much that a book could illustrate.

Though, Riddle's little group probably had all the help they needed from the man himself. Harry hadn't heard much about this little gathering, but he knew that it was exclusive only to the selected students that were handpicked by the Deputy Headmaster. Most of the students were Slytherins, and that was to be expected since Riddle was the Head of the Slytherins. However, there were also quite a number of Ravenclaws, couple of Hufflepuffs and even some Gryffindors.

There was no particular way the students were chosen, but most of them had influential or pureblood families that Riddle knew on a personal level. Not to say that they all hailed from dark pureblood families only, but most had respectable background and idolized Riddle. The few who weren't chosen based on their blood were singled out by their talent and magical capabilities. Some were shrewd in theory and strategizing while others were more adept in the usage of magic itself, but all had a certain degree of talent.

He did not have much of an idea what the group did during their little sessions, but he knew enough. Mostly they practiced magic, and not always Dark Arts from the little snippets Draco used to drop, but magic in essence. They covered the school work in the beginning of the sessions and then moved onto other branches of magic, and from what the Malfoy Heir had claimed, dueling was a large part of their sessions. He would have to start practicing if he wanted to have an upper hand on that group to win the Dueling Competition, especially since Riddle would probably be grilling them now.

However, that pretty much explained why Riddle never scheduled detentions with him, Harry thought, slightly disgruntled. If he had done detentions with Riddle all throughout the years, then it would have been a lot of time the professor wasted supervising him. The man probably thought that sentencing him to work with Filch was good enough a punishment for him so that he could focus on his little group.

Harry grumbled. It wasn't like he was jealous, but Riddle was a brilliant teacher and he could probably have studied much more. But then again, Harry was sure that the other students hadn't covered things like Necromancy (or at least the basic level of it) and Blood Magic. Those were too complex, even with the help of a teacher, and some form of talent had to be there… which he wasn't too sure that his school mates possessed.

Occulmency though, Harry suspected they had. He wasn't fond of prodding into the minds of people, but he had tried once or twice to Draco's when he found the blond particularly suspicious, sneaking around in corridors late at night. To be fair, he was doing the exact same thing but only because he had stayed too late at the library.

Upon entering Draco's mind, Harry found that there was a misty barrier and he had retreated after that. He could probably go past that barrier, but not without Draco noticing the invading presence and he certainly didn't want to draw attention to himself or his knowledge of mind arts. Talented as he was in the school curriculum, he doubted that Draco knew the extent of his research.

Pushing past the stack of books, Harry reached out for a heavy tome lathered with dust from the top of the shelves and managed to take it once he stretched a little bit. Thankfully he had grown during the summer of his fifth year and was no longer the shortest in his year, even if he was petite… something he had inherited from his mother.

Frowning, Harry dusted the cover of the book and leaned in for a closer look. Adventures of Merlin, the cover spelled out in curly gold words. He quickly flipped it open and his eyes fell on the content page, where the various chapters were introduced. Eyes widening slightly, he scanned through the introduction and realized that the book he was holding was pure gold. It contained much information about the works of Merlin, and it wasn't the spin-off fairytale that some wizards liked to portray; it was the full account of Merlin's life and the real history and collection of all his achievements.

There were eighteen whole chapters dedicated to the spell work of Merlin and it included many branches of magic, including light and dark magic, which proved that Merlin was not merely a Light wizard as most Wizarding folk liked to proclaim. Magic was magic, whether light or dark and it appeared that Merlin held the same views as he did.

Hurriedly scanning through the pages, he found more about the life of Merlin including small details like how the Order of the Merlin came about and its purpose… right till the end with the real account of Merlin's death and his tragic romance with the Lady of the Lake. He didn't have the time to read in detail since he was almost late for Dumbledore's appointment, but from the brief bits he saw, fiction and reality was far apart.

The accounts of Merlin he heard from Sirius seemed like fantasy now that he was holding the real thing in his hand. It was obvious that this book held nothing but truth from the way things were properly accounted for, right up to Merlin's death. And it seemed as though the end wasn't marked solely by the death of Merlin.

In fact, judging by the other three chapters describing the aftermath of his death, it looked like there was much more to a simple death…

He just didn't know how true his muse was at the moment.

Footsteps slowing down, Harry stood before the door leading to Dumbledore's office, raising his hand to knock twice. There was the sound of faint rustling as someone moved within the room and a moment later, the door swung open to reveal the Headmaster's office.

He gave a glance at the room and noted it to be bigger than the normal Professor's office, but that was to be expected. Though he had never came to Professor Dumbledore's room, he recognized a few of the objects Sirius had pointed out to him long ago – the portraits that hung on the wall pretending to be sleeping and the numerous gadgets that decorated the professor's table.

He was surprised however, by the darkly handsome figure sitting on the chair adjacent to Dumbledore's table.

"Professor Riddle?"

The man gave a small smirk which was illuminated by the small lamp on the table, but he did not reply. Instead, it was Dumbledore who leaned forward to speak.

"Take a seat, Mr Potter," Dumbledore invited casually, his arms spread wide as he indicated the chair in front of the table.

Warily, Harry approached the seat and sat down, taking care to avoid the twinkling eyes upon him. If both the Deputy and the Headmaster were present, then surely what they had to say would be a matter of great importance. But it didn't mean that he had to like the fact that Dumbledore seemed to be scheming something by the looks of his slightly eager expression.

"I assume that you do not know why you've been called?" Dumbledore said after another second's pause.

Obviously. "No, Professor," he said and shook his head.

Riddle took the lead. "As you are aware, you have been Hogwart's top pupil of the year for almost every year running," Riddle began and Harry's attention fell to him.

"What does that have to do with my presence here, Professor? Surely that doesn't warrant any explanation or sorts," Harry replied guardedly, wondering if they were trying to imply that he cheated in some way or another… but it wasn't a high possibility given the lack of threatening truth serums in vicinity.

"Oh no, my boy!" Dumbledore intervened jovially. "It's actually not a grave matter, now relax yourself. It's a Hogwarts tradition, however, that the top student of the graduating year be called forth for an appointment with the Headmaster and the Deputy Headmaster. Both Professor Riddle and I have gone through with it, and I assure you that it is not a great fuss at all."

"An appointment?" he echoed.

Riddle explained, "As you very well know, all students at Hogwarts undergo their Career Guidance sometime between their fifth and sixth year, depending on the choice of their professors. I assume your Head of House Professor Flitwick had gone through the motions with you?"

Harry nodded.

"Well then Harry," Dumbledore said cheerfully, dropping the formalities. "I'm sure it wouldn't hurt for you to tell us the contents of your Career Guidance. It will make our session a lot faster and more efficient if Professor Riddle and I were to better understand where your preference lies."

"I don't understand."

"The purpose of this session, Harry, is merely a more specific Career Guidance. Hogwarts in all its legend has produced countless of great students. But where do they go after they graduate from Hogwarts? The very best – like you are – are destined for great things. But alas, the great cannot be attained without a path to follow and therein lies the Headmasters of the school to guide you to the path of greatness," Dumbledore ended his passionate speech in a dramatic flair, twinkling blue eyes capturing his own once again. "Do you understand, Harry?"

Harry made a non-committal sound and judging from Riddle's sour expression, the man looked like he was refraining himself to make a cynical comment. Well at least he wasn't the only one who felt that Dumbledore had overdone the dramatics.

"What he means to say," Riddle interrupted, his voice strictly professional though Harry could hear the underlying tones of irritation. "Is that for generations, the Headmasters of Hogwarts pledge to help guide the best students to even greater heights. There are selected few professions that only few wizards have embarked upon – professions that you would not find in leaflets from your fifth and sixth year."

"So you mean to convince me to have a change in career choice?" he said, frowning. He didn't like the sound of his future being swayed left and right by the two Headmasters and he was quite sure that they would have rather opposing views about where he should go. The positive side was that he didn't necessarily have to listen to their advice…

"Not convince, my dear boy!" Dumbledore cried. "Merely to provide a wider array of options for the talented. Although, quite a few of Hogwarts top students have changed their career choice, whether for the worse or for the better, only they can tell, though not many had a tale as tragic as that of Emericks' after the change…" his voice trailed of wistfully.

"That does not mean to say, however, that all top students need to change their choices. Professor Dumbledore and I have pursued our dreams to be professors of Hogwarts nonetheless," Riddle said.

"I can't imagine," Harry muttered under his breath but from the sharp look that Riddle gave him, it seemed as though the man had heard him.

"Well, so do we start? Any new, bizarre careers that I should know of?" Harry said dryly, not intending to change his choice of career in the least.

While he wasn't particularly fond of being an Auror, he wasn't against it either. Sirius was an Auror, as was his father, so it seemed like a viable route for him to go down. It wasn't what interested him the most, but it gave him more free time to do whatever he wanted… without supervision. He was almost gleeful about graduating from Hogwarts and having freedom all to himself without watching out for professors hovering behind his back.

"Not so fast," Riddle cut in. Harry turned his mock-outraged eyes towards the man who seemed to sneer slightly. "As I've said, we need to know what you and Professor Flitwick have discussed previously. This is to allow us –"

"To gain a better understanding of my preference," Harry interrupted. "Yes, I heard you the first time," he added after seeing the stony expression of Riddle. "Can we move on? Or do I just reveal the contents of my Career Guidance two years ago?"

At Dumbledore's nod, Harry sat back comfortably and contemplated, trying to remember what he and Professor Flitwick had discussed. There wasn't much to it, to be honest. He only remembered his professor's brief encouragement for him to speak out and the delight upon learning that he was going to go down the noble road of being an Auror.

"Well, Professor Flitwick and I… we discussed about the various choices in the Wizarding career," Harry started lamely, chancing a small glance at Riddle who looked as if he was going to pop a vein.

"And?" the man prodded on impatiently.

"He recommended me several choices according to my strengths which he said were evenly distributed except for History of Magic and Divination which I dropped in the third year," Harry offered.

"The specifics, Mr Potter," Riddle said through gritted teeth and Harry refrained himself from smiling gleefully. Oh, Riddle was just far too impatient, but judging by the expression on the man, Harry was soon to be overstepping his boundaries.

"I told him that I wanted to be an Auror and that was it," he concluded.

"That's all?" There was surprise in Dumbledore's voice which made Harry instantly alert.

He shifted slightly, wondering what more could Dumbledore be expecting, but he decided to play the man at his game. "Not really," he hummed, pretending to be oblivious to Dumbledore's eagerness for him to continue. "He encouraged me to work for my dreams and pursue my ambitions," he finished and watched happily as Dumbledore seemed to deflate at his answer.

"Didn't Professor Flitwick offer you… other choices in career path, Harry, my boy?"

"Nope," Harry said cheerfully but his eyes were guarded and eyeing Dumbledore.

"Any clubs or societies to join, perhaps?" Dumbledore seemed a little worried now.

"If you're talking about the Wizards' Association then you have a thing comi–"

"Now, Dumbledore, we aren't interrogating Mr Potter now, are we?" Riddle interjected smoothly, successfully drawing the attention of both the Headmaster and the student. Dumbledore seemed to give a start momentarily before he focused and waved a hand merrily.

"Ah, Professor Riddle. I quite forgot that you were there for a second," Dumbledore said languidly.

"Clearly," Riddle's voice was cold. "Now if Mr Potter cannot give us any more details as to his conversation with Professor Flitwick, let us now move on to the Sorting Hat."

"The Sorting Hat?" Harry asked incredulously, spinning his head around to see the Sorting Hat resting on a shelf.

He watched as Professor Riddle waved his wand to summon the Sorting Hat and rounded up on the man instantly.

"Am I going to be resorted, Professor?" he demanded. This was getting absurd.

"Nothing of that sort, Harry," Dumbledore's voice came again and Harry relaxed slightly. "I do hope you remember the Sorting Hat talking to you during your first year? It's the exact same process, only that the Sorting Hat will be looking as to the possible career choice you can have. It knows your deepest thoughts after all, even those you're unconscious of."

Harry's eyes widened. Dumbledore wasn't serious about asking him to expose himself vulnerably to an old hat that reported to him? There were countless of things that weren't meant to be seen and if Dumbledore got wind of it…

"Absolutely not," Harry said quickly. "My thoughts are private," he added.

"Harry my boy-"

"I am not your boy," Harry snapped.

"Surely you see the importance…" Dumbledore tried again.

"I most certainly do not."

"If you must know, I am not bound to the Headmaster," a loud voice drawled from overhead. Harry and Dumbledore spun around to see the Sorting Hat who seemed to wink at him from above.

At their perplexed expressions, the Sorting Hat explained, "It is a common no good assumption that the Sorting Hat is bound to the Headmaster. However, that is only a rumor for the Hat is bound to Hogwarts instead, of which includes all the students. I assure you, Mr Potter, that your secrets will be quite very safe with me."

"I wonder what secrets a boy at your age could have," Riddle's voice sounded from his left.

Harry glared. "Not too far from yours, I believe."

"Professor Riddle," Dumbledore's stern voice said. He waved his wand and the Sorting Hat flew to the table where it settled down. "Now is not the time." He turned back to Harry and picked up the Sorting Hat, standing up and walking towards him with the Hat offered in his outstretched hand. "You've heard what the Sorting Hat has said, Harry."

Harry eyed the hat suspiciously.

"I won't bite-" the Sorting Hat sung impatiently, looking utmost eager to get inside his mind.

"Only because you can't," Harry finished but he took the Hat nonetheless and settled it gingerly upon his head.

'Oho!' the Sorting Hat cried into his head and Harry could feel it ruffling through his memories, all through his first year to present time at an alarming rate. 'Been a bad boy, have you?' the tone was smug.

'Get it over and done with if you expect to remain as a Hat,' Harry hissed mentally, annoyed.

The hat was humming joyfully as it sieved through his memories, pausing at some particularly eventful ones to give a snide comment or two.

'Dark Arts…!' The hat exclaimed as they paused at a memory of him casting a severing charm that would kill if wounded too deeply. 'I must say, Mr Potter, I never expected that of you when I sorted you to Ravenclaw. If I had known better, off to Slytherin you would have gone even with your insistence… but of course, you stand firm to your decision eh?'

Harry grumbled.

'Never the socialite, I see,' the Hat mused, pouring over the memories of him brushing away company. 'Well that certainly rules out jobs that require too much correspondence – politicians, international departments and ministerial positions the like. But it isn't much of a loss to you, is it? Aha, an Auror! Is that truly your wish, Mr Potter?'

'Yes,' Harry said after a moment's pause. Well, even if it weren't truly his wish, it was good enough.

'But you aren't very fond to that job, are you Mr Potter?' Sensing his dilemma at answering, the Sorting Hat continued impatiently, 'Do not tire me with lies. I can see all your desires whether you like it or not.'

'Does Occulmency work in banishing you out of my head? Because you've got a thing coming if that were so-'

'Such a sharp tongue,' the Hat tsked. 'Nevertheless, I would advise you as I had done seven years ago, that you should follow your heart and not what the society expects of you.'

'It's not what the society expects of me,' Harry argued.

'But it is one of the reasons why you chose to be an Auror despite your fondness for other areas. Ancient magic is a branch of magic that has been long be forgotten, yet if you put your heart to it, I am confident that your research will come to light.'

'Then you would realize that I'm not giving that up either.'

'But you are taking away such precious time, are you not?' the Hat said snidely from the back of his mind.

'I will not change my mind. If there's nothing else-' He made to pull the Hat off his head but it cried out suddenly.

'A moment's wait, Mr Potter!' the Hat sighed. 'Even if you fail to reconsider your decision, I will still warn you. You do know of the impending war between Dumbledore and the rising Dark Lord, do you not?'

'I hardly think anyone doesn't,' Harry said dryly but sat back down on his seat to listen.

'Then understand that when power comes to play, you can make a difference. And that difference you make will leave a mark within the war…" the voice trailed off for a moment. "Choose wisely for I cannot warn you enough of the plans surrounding you.'

Harry paused, considering the words of the Sorting Hat. The Hat lived in Dumbledore's office and it would have an insight as to Dumbledore's thoughts, unless the Hat was deliberately planted by Dumbledore to sway him to their cause. It wasn't aplenty, but there had been rumors of Dumbledore recruiting talented students to join his organization which was focused to maintaining peace during war times.

And the Sorting Hat had just reaffirmed his suspicions. In fact, if he didn't know better, he would say that the impending war was as between Dumbledore and the rising Dark Lord as much as it was against Dumbledore and Riddle. Two immensely powerful and charismatic wizards with unsolvable differences was just a ticking bomb before either side snapped and he, according to the Hat, would be caught in-between.

Heart feeling heavy at the new revelations, Harry pulled the Hat off his head and stood up, handing it back to Dumbledore. Riddle watched him intently with narrowed eyes as he sat back down on the fluffy chair and waited for the Headmasters to speak.

"Harry," Dumbledore's old and tired voice sounded heavy as he surveyed him with somber blue eyes. "I cannot stress to you the importance of the words of the Sorting Hat, was there anything-"

"Skip to the specifics," Harry said impatiently, feeling too tired to deal with the Headmaster's grandfatherly ways right now. The Sorting Hat's parting sentences had given him more to think about. The Hat clearly knew something and seemed to insinuate that he would be an essential to the war… but for what? He wasn't outstanding in ways like Riddle and he didn't seek fame or glory like his schoolmates. There would be nothing that would attract him to either side of the war and it was more than likely that he would play neutral.

"I understand that you're feeling overwhelmed now Harry," the Headmaster tried again. Harry refrained himself from hexing the man, who clearly didn't get the meaning of skipping to the important details. He tensed for a moment then relaxed back to his seat, his eyes wandering over to Riddle whilst Dumbledore chattered on.

The man looked like an epitome of calmness, but there was a bored air surrounding him in waves. Harry leaned towards Riddle slightly, entranced by the calming waves of magic that the man exuded compared to the heavy and serious encompassing waves of Dumbledore. It was no wonder why so many people were taken in by the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor. If he didn't know better, he could have been one of the students in his fan club…

He sighed heavily, eyelids drooping but Dumbledore continued on, until he felt a sharp poke in the sides of his ribs and snapped his eyes open.

Riddle was staring at him in amusement. Harry quickly looked down on himself and realized that he was leaning far too close to the man for comfort. Dumbledore cleared his throat slightly to recapture his lost attention.

"Harry my boy?" the voice was concerned.

Quickly moving away from Riddle, he turned back to the Headmaster, determinedly ignoring the smug looks that Riddle sent his way.

"Yes Professor?" he tried to sound attentive in order to divert the topic away from himself.

"He asked if you had any new ideas for career choices in addition to the ones you raised to Professor Flitwick in your fifth year," Riddle supplied, the smirk still gracing his features.

"A couple here and there," he replied noncommittally.

Dumbledore looked frustrated; he would be after all, with his continued half-responses even after an hour into their session. "And?" the man prodded.

He shrugged. "He offered a few Ministerial positions here and there but I wasn't really interested in them. Auror remains to be the choice the Sorting Hat gave, Riddle."

"Professor Riddle, Harry," Dumbledore corrected.

"Right, Professor Riddle. But if that were all-"

Riddle sneered. "Do you intend to wiggle yourself out of this session in every few sentences? Do not expect that I am pleased to be here either."

Harry huffed. "Your presence is less than desired, I assure you. And unless there is any outcome, I doubt this session is of any practical use, Professor," he added at the look on Dumbledore's face. The man was frowning and seemed to be deep in thought for a few moments before he spoke.

"Very well," Dumbledore said and Harry was surprised at Dumbledore's readiness to dismiss him. The man didn't seem all too agreeable to allow him free rein throughout the session after all.

As he made to stand, Dumbledore finished his sentence. "Professor Riddle may take your leave. I require a word with Mr Potter here."

Riddle's mood darkened instantly and Harry could feel the calm magic swirling around the man take a dive into an icy aura. When he spoke, his voice was cool and controlled. "Is there something I ought not to hear?" The tone was light but there was a menacing threat underlying.

Dumbledore's smile was grim as the two wizards stared each other down. "Nothing of that sort, Tom," his voice was quiet. "I merely require Harry's presence for another matter and I wouldn't like to hold you up."

Riddle looked as though he would very much not mind to be held up, but then his expression cleared in a moment and he nodded, standing up. "Very well," he said curtly and Harry glanced up at him. There was something within the man's eyes that seemed to set off warning bells in his head… Riddle was definitely plotting something. He couldn't let go so easily.

"Have a wonderful night, Professor," Harry chirped as Riddle swung open the door.

"Insolent brat," he heard Riddle hiss just as the door swung shut.

The change in atmosphere was highly apparent the moment Riddle vacated the room. Harry became alert instantly, his defenses guarded as he steeled himself for Dumbledore's real purpose for calling him. Even though most would call Riddle a more dangerous and seductive man, Harry felt more unsettled in Dumbledore's presence instead.

There was just something to the Headmaster that he couldn't put his finger to.

"Make yourself comfortable," Dumbledore invited calmly once an echoing silence settled upon the room. Harry shifted slightly in his seat, eyeing the old wizard.

Dumbledore looked as though he was considering how he should phrase his sentence when Harry decided to cut to the chase. "What is it that you wanted with me, Headmaster?"

"Harry… I don't know if you have ever heard from Sirius, but before Lily and James passed away, they were-"

"If you're going to talk about my parents, I suggest you save it," Harry said coolly, not bothering to be polite anymore.

"Listen me out first," Dumbledore said, his voice heavy with authority and he surveyed Harry with serious blue eyes which made him want to curse the twinkling lights out of them. "Your parents were brave people, very brave people," he nodded impressively, mistaking Harry's bored expression for solemnity. "I am regretful to say that they died in the course of their duty, which I believe you have heard from Sirius before."

"That I have, but Sirius doesn't talk about these things often, if you get my drift."

Dumbledore shook his head slightly and Harry almost fell for his concerned look. Almost, if he didn't know better about the old man and the mysterious vibes he gave off.

"There's more to their deaths than what it seems, Harry. And I would not have disclosed this to you – oh, it was your parent's wish your for you to have a relatively normal childhood," Harry snorted at this point but the Headmaster ignored him. "But at this point of the war, I'm afraid I cannot hold back," Dumbledore settled back to his seat, watching him for his reaction.

There was a moment's pause and Harry's expression remained stoically blank.

"The Order of the Phoenix," Dumbledore waved his wand majestically and flaming gold words appeared in the air. A golden phoenix was perched on top of the 'O' before they disappeared after a few long seconds. "Is an Order which I formed to resist Grindelwald's forces in the First War, and subsequently for the Second War which is on the verge of eruption now."

"I don't see how it relates to me," Harry said slowly, dreading Dumbledore's answer.

"Your parents were in this Order, Harry. They gave up their lives for this noble cause."

They gave up their lives for this noble cause. The words echoed heavily in his mind, refusing to go away, as if reminding him of their abandonment. Was this why his parents died? But Sirius had said that Pettigrew killed his parents out of jealousy. Could there have been more to the story? He wondered if his parents were killed in the Second War since they were never involved in the First War. His mind was reeling, but the truth was that the Second War never happened because the Dark Lord never really started the war. He had remained under cover even till now, whereby his identity was known only by the few who were bound by silence.

But Dumbledore. The old man was asking for him to give up his life fighting for a cause that his parents abandoned him from.

"Is that what you want from me?" Harry said coldly. "My life bound to this Order of yours?"

"Harry, that's not what I meant-"

"So I don't have to join the Order, do I?"

"No," Dumbledore corrected himself hastily. "I only meant your life bound to the Order is a tad too strong a sentence to put this. I wanted to ask-"

"Don't you think it's time to listen to what others wanted for a change, Professor?" he added, glaring coldly at Dumbledore's wizened face.

"You must understand that the war with the uprising Dark Lord is not one to be taken lightly," Dumbledore said gravely, his hands twisting slightly as he paced around the room in agitation. "The Dark Lord is seductive and charming; he has several talented people on his side of the war, ready to lay their lives down for him if he so wishes. We need to combat him with our own talents and you are one of our assets, just like how your parents were. This you must realize, Harry. The rising Dark Lord makes Grindelwald's First War look like child's play, and we need to be prepared."

Harry stood up, turning to face Dumbledore who was leaning out of the window, eyes staring far away.

"Is this what you called me for? You never really wanted me here for the Career Guidance," he deadpanned. "It was your excuse, and your moment of opportunity the moment Professor Riddle left. And he knew what you wanted," Harry added.

It all seemed so clear now – the underlying tension between Riddle and Dumbledore throughout the course of the talk, and later, Riddle's reluctance at leaving. He might have a vague idea of the Headmaster's motives before that, but Riddle had bloody known exactly what Dumbledore was playing at. And he had refused to budge, though he relented, for motives Harry didn't know.

He heard Dumbledore sigh, but the man did not turn to face him. "I'm sorry I had to drag you into this. But you have to understand that all this is for the greater good. Your parents understood that and that's why they were willing to lay their lives down – for the sake of the Wizarding World. The war must be stopped."

"And you're asking me to be one of your warriors," he snorted.

Dumbledore's cloak swished as he turned, the lines on his face crinkling as he started pacing once more. "Is this why you're adamant to joining the Order of the Phoenix? Do you blame the Order for the deaths of Lily and James?" the voice was incredulous; surprised.

Harry laughed, walking towards the far end of the room to put as much space there could be between him and Dumbledore. The Headmaster might be powerful, but he didn't understand people the way Riddle did and played on their weaknesses. "I don't," he said simply. "But I won't lay my life down. There is much to do."

"What can there be for a young boy like yourself, albeit talented? You are suited for the war. Your parents would have been proud of what of you," Dumbledore insisted.

He smiled lightly, thinking back at all the books filled with the different branches of magic… ancient magic, particularly. "You're wrong, Headmaster Dumbledore," he said quietly. "There is so much I don't know."

"Harry," the man pressed on. "Just think about the lives you could be saving. You are our top student; Hogwart's top students, unchallenged and only Professor Riddle and I have surpassed you decades ago. Your skills and talents could be put to such great use for the greater good!"

"Like I said, Professor, I live my life for myself," he said, watching in satisfaction as Dumbledore deflated slightly. "Now, if that were all…" he moved towards the door, hearing the soft murmuring of his name by Dumbledore.

"Your parents would have been disappointed in you," the man tried a final time as his fingers closed around the door knob.

They couldn't be. They were dead already.

"Goodnight, Professor," he said quietly and the door closed behind him.

"He's got a point you know," a snide voice said from behind the door. "He thinks for himself. He isn't one of your little puppets, Dumbledore."

He stretched himself comfortably, ignoring the haziness in his mind that protested for sleep after staying up for three and close to four days. His legs were stretched out on his bed as he lay back down on his pillow, propped up on one arm as he eagerly flipped a page of his newest book that held accountable for his attraction and sleep loss.

It was rumored that Merlin died by his own hand, in the most cruel form of suicide. His magic was unable to withstand his inner conflict and emotions after his tragic love story with the Lady of the Lake (known commonly as Viviane) and turned against him. Instead of causing an explosion of power after suppressing it for years –like what history has recorded for Gwenyth the 2nd – all of Merlin's magic turned inwards against him. His heart turned to stone, but it was not just any other stone. It turned into the sapphire jewel, the exact color that Viviane's eyes were before they burned a deep violet.

Harry paused at that page, before re-reading it again. He had spent the past few days reading the book on Merlin that he had borrowed shortly before his meeting with Dumbledore, and there were many new surprises at every chapter. But this was different. It was a complete spin-off from the fairytales of Merlin's Adventures he had known from a childhood.

Yet he didn't know if this was truly the real version of Merlin's death. By staff, by sword or by his own heart? If he were to find out the answer, he needed to verify the source of the book and do more in-depth research. Though, this sounded highly plausible. There was never any form of duel between Merlin and another witch or wizard; the man had simply ceased to exist. His body was never found and only his staff had been left behind. Had his heart, the sapphire jewel, too?

Love was powerful; powerful enough to cause such a manifestation, such a supernatural thing to happen even to one of the greatest wizards there were in time. But it was because Merlin was powerful that such a mystifying encounter could occur; normal witches and wizards simply did not have enough magic in them to cause this phenomenon.

Sighing heavily, he shut the text and rolled over the bed, wondering what to do next when he heard footsteps shuffling outside his bed. Irritated, he stood up and pulled open the curtains to reveal Anthony Goldstein who was holding a piece of parchment in his hands.

"What…?"

"Here," Goldstein pressed the piece of paper into his outstretched hands. "Professor Riddle told me to give this to you. He said that you should read it immediately."

Frowning, Harry opened the parchment to reveal Riddle's neat scrawl. He scanned through the words quickly and realized that Riddle had sent him for his detention. And he was expecting him to arrive in another eight minutes, or the detention would double.

Cursing fluently, Harry quickly grabbed his book bag and stuffed the book on Merlin into it before pushing past Goldstein and hurrying out of the common room. Trust Riddle to pull something like that on him the first time that they would be having detention together.

Together. Harry skidded to a stop just outside the Ravenclaw tower. He would be with Riddle in an enclosed room, and there was nowhere to hide if the man tried to do him harm. He probably was exaggerating, but there was no way he could survive three hours with Riddle alone in a room without both themselves hurling verbal abuses.

Then again, why did Riddle choose to schedule detention with the man himself only after seven years? He had a hunch that it had something to do with the career conference the other day, especially the happenings after whereby Dumbledore had requested a private talk with him. It wasn't surprising that Riddle would be curious as to what the Headmaster had to say since the two were at opposite ends of a stick, always dancing around each other.

Sighing, Harry casted a tempus charm to find that he only had another five minutes after musing.

Now, what would Riddle do to him?

"Pardon?" Harry asked incredulously at the thick book in front of him.

He was currently sitting at the table opposite of Professor Riddle's, waiting for the man's instructions on his detention. Because he was late for the detention by half a bloody minute, he had endured Riddle's lecture on the importance of time and punctuality for ten minutes, and how precious time was.

That was, until Harry helpfully reminded Riddle that he had just wasted ten minutes of the precious time in his life. He was expecting to get sent off to Filch' again, but instead, he wasn't asked to leave the room immediately. Riddle had only given him one cold glare before summoning a thick book off one of his numerous shelves.

"Read the book, chapters 1 to 5 and summarize them for me at the end of detention," Riddle replied curtly, his crimson eyes staring at him as though he was thick for having him repeat the instructions again.

"No toads? Or any cleaning to do? Just reading?" Harry blurted out, surprised. It wasn't like he minded reading… far from it, in fact, he loved it. But it seemed so unlike Riddle to let him off so easily for detention.

"Do I have to repeat myself once more?" the voice was annoyed. "Read the book and summarize it for me. You will leave only when you have finished reading." There was no doubt that Riddle would carry out his threat.

Glaring, Harry reached out for the book and settled back comfortably in his seat. On the table were a quill, ink and a parchment which he assumed were for him to jot down the notes. He read the introduction quickly and was surprised for the second time of the day that the book was on advanced dueling for the offensive and defensive.

Frowning, he wondered why he was asked to read this book especially when the Dueling Competition was nearing. Surely Riddle would want to have one of his little group win the competition and do him proud? Why would he want to let Harry read a book that wasn't available at the library and give him an added advantage?

The man's motives were strange, Harry concluded, pausing from his reading. Riddle definitely wasn't one to do things on a whim, so the man had something up from his sleeve. He eyed the man cautiously over the large book to find red eyes staring back.

"Is there a problem, Mr Potter?"

"No," Harry darted his head down and resumed reading, trying to block out Riddle's presence, but there were times where he felt eyes upon him and that unsettled him deeply. The lingers of the stares seemed a tad too long than it should have been for the professor to check if he was dreaming off… but then again, Harry reassured himself, it was no wonder Riddle would want to monitor him, especially with his track record of dreaming in classes.

Two hours later, Harry yawned and stretched his arms, having finally finished reading the long chapters. He glanced down at the parchment he had been scribbling on and noted it to be fully filled with bits of notes here and there and felt a sense of satisfaction. Well, even if it was a little messy, it was nothing he couldn't handle and he was used to it. Only Riddle would feel irked looking at that sheet of parchment which had lines drawn all over the place.

"Done already?" There was surprise in Riddle's tone at his efficiency. The man was now looking at him, having been alerted by Harry's sudden shift in posture.

He passed the parchment of paper over to Riddle. "The summaries of all the five chapters. I'm afraid it's not too neat, but –"

"I thank you for stating the obvious," Riddle interrupted smoothly. "And see that you have mastered the theory aspects of advanced dueling very well, particularly on the offensive and construction of various unconventional magic."

"That is a nice compliment, Professor, but –"

"However, I wonder if your practical approach is as powerful," Riddle frowned, eyebrows creasing as he looked at the paper, then back up at him. Harry gritted his teeth at the hint of insult. "One would assume so, seeing that an Auror is your desired profession."

The man stood up now, and paced around the office. Harry stood still, staring at the empty spot that Riddle had sat moments ago.

"But there is another reason to assume rightly," Riddle continued. Harry tensed slightly, unsure as to what would be happening next. He was unprepared for the voice that appeared next to his ear seconds later, having not heard Riddle's quiet footsteps approach him. "Dumbledore seems to think so too," Riddle said, leaning down towards his ear and Harry could feel the man's breath tickling his ear, making him uncomfortable. He was never one for physical contact and quickly shifted away, but the hand pressing down on the junction between his neck and shoulder caused him to stop.

"Professor –" Harry started.

Now he knew why Riddle had scheduled this detention… he wanted to know what Dumbledore had requested him to stay for. He felt insulted that that was the only reason for the Professor to schedule detention with the man himself only after six years… as if everything was designed to suit Riddle's purpose. But that was true, to some extent, for things did revolve around Riddle – people, time, money and power. They all did.

"Why don't you show me what you have?" Riddle offered and that was all the warning Harry had before he was roughly pushed out of his chair, a wand pointing at his throat. Riddle's lips quirked into an inviting smile. Their eyes locked and Harry's wand was out in another second, mirroring Riddle's. Blindly, he casted his first spell in Riddle's direction and watched as the stunning spell flew out of range, behind Riddle's back.

He turned and met with a predatory smile – he had never seen the man grin so widely. With barely a moment's pause, Harry ducked under as a violet spell came whizzing pass the top of his head. Growling, he rolled over to fire more spells at Riddle. If Riddle wanted their detention this way, then so be it.

He struggled to stay balanced, his body swaying slightly from the late nights up and fought to keep himself awake. Chancing a glance at the ornamental clock hung high up on the wall, he realized that it was way past detention. Well, at least it was a weekend tomorrow and he could sleep in then practice for the Dueling Competiton the following Monday.

Eyes narrowing in concentration, Harry dodged around more of Riddle's hexes, alternating between shield charms and physical movement. His tired body was protesting against his strenuous movement but he paid it no heed and continued to fire curses when he had the opportunity. Riddle on the other hand, seemed to be playing with him. Given his tired body, he was sure that the professor could overpower him quite easily.

Slightly out of breath after twenty long minutes, his eyes darted around the room. Noting Riddle to be a fair distance away from him, Harry quickly summoned up his magic and tried to cast one of the ancient magic he learned a short while ago. The curse would cause the opponent to have hallucinations of the person they treasured most in place of him, effectively turning the tables of the duel.

"Cinnatia!" he cried, wand slashing out in the full rune circle movement, praying that the spell worked. After all, it was only dummies he had tried on, not a real human being.

To his surprise, Riddle allowed the spell to hit him. He had expected the professor to duck, or put up some sort of a shield but he seemed to be challenging him for the spell to work, as though he already knew the effects of the Cinnatia Curse.

A bright orange light engulfed Riddle's body for two seconds before it faded and dimmed, to only a small glow at the edges of his arms and neck. Harry held his breath, eager to see how the spell had worked and took a step forward to the now dazed looking Riddle.

He examined the professor cautiously, careful to maintain a small distance lest the man reacted. But it seemed as though his worries were unduly for Riddle looked like he was now seeing him as the person he treasured most, and wouldn't be likely to hurt him… would he?

Though, Harry paused, steps from Riddle and considered. Why had the man allowed himself to be attacked? It wasn't beyond Riddle to conjure a shield powerful enough to stop the effects of the Cinnatia Curse. And he had to admit, he was more than curious as to who Riddle would be hallucinating now… He wondered briefly if it would be Draco, then decided that given the over-inflated pride the man possessed, Riddle would most probably be seeing himself. All the better, Harry mused. There was no way Riddle would voluntarily curse himself.

Lost in his thoughts, Harry failed to notice a body-bind spell fly towards him from Riddle's outstretched wand. Half turned, Harry's eyes widened in surprise and a cry of outrage left him before he fell to the floor, unable to move. Glaring, he watched as Riddle strutted forward confidently, as though he was never under the effects of the curse.

"An interesting curse, the Cinnatia Curse," Riddle said smugly, leaning down so that they were to eye level. "A curse that would have worked on most men, but I confess myself to not be like most men…" Riddle trailed a finger down his cheek and Harry struggled futilely to escape the man's touch. Bloody hell, what was with Riddle and physical contact today? The professor looked as though he highly enjoyed Harry's internal struggles at being forcefully kept there, subjected to his merry, but he supposed that was what he got for stepping on his professor's toes for the past seven years.

"Nevertheless, if you're curious," Riddle continued, "the spell did work on me, despite your uncertainty."

Harry's eyes would have widened in surprise if they could at Riddle's confession. His mind was in a whirlwind, racing against time. If the spell had worked, then why hadn't Riddle been affected by it?

It seemed as though Riddle knew his unspoken question. The man stood up and paced around the room, taking his time. "The Cinnatia Curse does not work on a Master Occulmens," there was a smug edge in the voice and Harry huffed internally. If he had known… but he had always assumed Riddle was a Master Legilimens. He hadn't heard of anyone who was adept at being both.

"And secondly, I possess exceptional self-control. Your spell failed to work on me because I am not a dreamer, Mr Potter. I did see who was the most important to me," Riddle got round saying 'treasured', Harry noted subconsciously. "And though surprised I was by the image conjured, it was not enough to disrupt my mind."

Ah. That explained the initially dazed look Riddle had upon being subjected to the curse. He had not been expecting whoever that appeared in his stead.

Turning his back, Harry watched as Riddle settled himself back at his table, before whispering the counter curse for the body-bind spell to release him. He struggled to his feet in exhaustion, with the full force of the energy he used during the duel and the nights spent reading hurtling down on him. His wand snapped into his hand at once, but the Deputy Headmaster had only laughed condescendingly.

"Put that wand down, child," the man chided. Harry's eyes narrowed at being called a child and Riddle chuckled merrily. "If I had wished to do anything, I would have done so earlier, when you're lying as still as a dead log."

Harry ignored the suggestive tone. "Logs are still whether dead or alive, Professor," he retorted, albeit slightly sleepily.

"Your insolence needs to be cured -"

"May I leave now, Professor? Detention is over." He cleared his throat and waited for Riddle to respond, praying that the man would release him now.

He was already fighting to clear his mind from the drowsiness, and his eyes were threatening to flutter shut… He refused to hold onto Riddle's desk to stabilize himself, lest the man sneered at his weakness again, and chose to stare determinedly at the portrait of Slytherin on the wall to stop seeing doubles in his vision.

Riddle, being the man he was, made things difficult for him as usual. "And why is that so, Mr Potter?" the man sneered. "You look like you're barely keeping yourself on your feet. If exhaustion was your reason for me to let you off now, I will, but you would have to ask me for it."

Horrible, horrible bastard. "I am not tired," Harry protested against the will of his body, feeling the world start to spin softly… and strangely enough, a light smile started to form at the edges of his lips.

"And pray tell, what is this when your vision is barely focused and you're swaying as you stand? The duel has weakened you and you will bend your neck before I allow your absence…"

But he did not hear the rest of Riddle's monologue. Eyes fluttering close at a long last, Harry slumped to the floor with a soft thud as the world shifted and faded black. His last thought was what Riddle would make of him curled up at the foot of his table, but he was too far gone to care as he drifted off, happily asleep…