A/N: Well, hope you like this chapter. Please read and review! And so far, thank you, my faithful readers and reviewers. Extra thanks go to...

koryandrs

TypeName

Yume (guest reviewer)

Insanely-Yours96

Stardust of Orion

Thanks a lot for reviewing and giving me advice!

Now comes the story... :)

When Tom walked down the hallway in front of the Transfiguration classroom several days later, he saw an unusual sight. Almost all of the Gryffindors were already prepared for the day's lessons (i.e. had taken out their books – A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration by Miranda Goshawk, their quills, ink pots, and some parchment for notes). They were chatting excitedly in isolated corners of the classroom, some clustered around the "Notice Board" that McGonagall had erected near the door.

"What's happening here?" Tom mouthed to Harry, who had been hanging near Weasley like a second shadow for the past few days, and was currently looking bored.

For a moment, bright emerald eyes met Tom's murky brown depths, and Tom felt Harry was going to say something. Then, Harry turned away and forced a smile at whatever Weasley seemed to be saying at the moment.

Something tightened in Tom, but he too turned away resolutely. He could live without Harry, even though it felt as though something essential had been torn out of his chest. His heart? No, that couldn't be possible. He hadn't had one to begin with.

"What's going on?" Tom asked a bookish Slytherin by the name of Theodore "Call me Teddy" Nott. Nott was one of the only Slytherins who didn't take offense to Tom's supposed Muggleborn heritage. The rest of the Slytherins rallied behind Draco Malfoy either because they were afraid of Lucius Malfoy's considerable political influence or because they truly believed in pureblood supremacy and wanted Tom gone, where he couldn't "taint" them anymore with his "impure blood"

Teddy stared up from his book and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose with his pinky. His initial expression was annoyance, which then softened to 'squishy' emotions (in Tom's opinion) like sympathy and pity upon seeing the cause of interruption.

"Oh, you don't know, do you?" he asked rhetorically, glancing at the excited Gryffindors. "We're having a flying lesson today with Madame Hooch. The Gryffindorks are glad because they love flying. Not that we don't," he added hastily, glancing around furtively for signs of Malfoy, "but don't tell Malfoy I said this."

"What?" Tom questioned, having a good idea of what Teddy was going to say, but wanting to hear it out loud as confirmation.

"Griffins are better at Quidditch than we are," Teddy continued, voice low. "They usually win the Quidditch Cup each year. We Slytherins win sometimes, too, but it's usually because our team cheats."

Tom was not at all surprised by this revelation. He had already spent weeks in the Common Room, and by subtly eavesdropping on some conversations, had been able to tell that standards in Slytherin were deteriorating. Sure, Slytherins were sly, ambitious, and cunning. But stealing was not honorable, even in twisted Slytherin morals. Tom rather thought he would like to win through talent, not thievery.

"Everyone," McGonagall barked as she swept into the room, "please sit down and cease chattering, else the jewels in the hourglasses of your respective houses will be suddenly and tragically decreased."

Teddy nodded to Tom in acknowledgment before returning to his Transfiguration textbook. Malfoy, who had entered the classroom right before McGonagall had, sneered at the interaction.

McGonagall Conjured a megaphone and her voice blared loudly across the classroom. "SIT DOWN!"

Everyone mercifully shut up.

McGonagall promptly Vanished the megaphone again and said in a considerably quieter voice, "Yes, we are having a flying lesson today – the first of many in our school year. But no, this lesson will not be taking the place of Transfiguration; it will take place after your last class. Now, open your textbooks to page thirty-seven. Today we will be talking about the Minimal Transfiguration Theory by Frantz Dodderson in application to Partial Transfigurations..."

Tom quickly became absorbed in the lesson, and was calmly reading his textbook's example of turning a toothpick into a needle by changing the atomic and molecular structures of each square millimeter of the toothpick. Then, a paper airplane slowly landed on the corner of his desk and unfolded itself. Letters that became words appeared on it slowly...

Dear itty bitty mudblood Riddle,

Now you know who I am.

Well, share the gossip with me!

I know you were kissing Potter the other day. Did you move on to Nott this time? Settling for less, aren't we?

I'd admit myself that Potter is pretty cute, but you've messed up your chances with him. I think I'd like to go out with him sometime.

Your face is turning dangerously red, Riddle. What, about to have an aneurysm? Well, don't postpone it on my account. I'm sure Harry and I will have a wonderful laugh when you're dead.

"Mr. Riddle, passing notes in class?" McGonagall stared disapprovingly at Tom. She walked down the gaps in the rows of desks and picked up Malfoy's note. Tom felt an internal smugness rise inside him. Malfoy would be discovered for the scum he was...

"Excuse me, Riddle!" McGonagall gasped, color rising in two distinct spots on her cheeks. She glared at Tom as though he had insulted her personally. From the corner of his eye, Tom noticed Malfoy smirking. "What is the meaning of this?"

"What?" Tom asked, hopelessly confused.

McGonagall set down Malfoy's unfolded paper airplane, and to Tom's shock, the words Malfoy had charmed onto it were there no more. Instead, there was a lewd picture of a plump, red-haired woman shamelessly displaying her more... private body parts. Tom knew instinctively that the image depicted a Weasley. Below the provocative image was:

Hey, Weasel.

We need fewer blood traitors walking on Earth, don't you agree? I, for one, am glad she's dead.

~Riddle

"Detention for a month, Riddle!" McGonagall shrieked in outrage. "With Filch!" she added as an afterthought.

Malfoy, his supporters, and his goons sniggered from across the classroom, but McGonagall paid them no mind.

"You should be ashamed of yourself!" the professor berated, her nostrils flaring in fury. "Mr. Weasley's mother made an extraordinary sacrifice that you cannot possibly imagine. I hope the detentions will instill more respect in you. Honestly, children nowadays..."

Tom glanced desperately at Harry, but the boy did not look up. Weasley was drilling holes in the back of Tom's head and Tom knew he would have to dodge stray feet for the next few weeks. He wouldn't be surprised if his book bag was torn open more than once, or if his homework mysteriously disappeared. His potions might even strangely explode. Such was the way of the world.

Harry was staring at him, too. Now, no one was laughing, not even Malfoy, who wore a fake-innocent face. Green eyes glared and turned away. Tom was not worth Harry's attention. At the end of class, Tom saw a note land on his desk. In green ink, there was simply one word.

Why?

Tom spent the rest of his free period trying to figure out what Harry had meant. He didn't conclude anything. Did Harry mean Malfoy's floating episode? Longbottom's explosion? Weasley's mother's drawing?

He wanted to apologize, but he felt like he was climbing the sheer face of a mountain and kept sliding down, no matter how hard he tried to hold on. Why couldn't he do anything right? And where was his inner voice when he most needed it?

He screamed inwardly, for anything to just... help. His head drooped.

All was silent.

A/N: Cliffhanger! The flying lesson will be in the next chapter. I'm changing things up a bit...

Also, sorry if I'm not replying to your reviews. I usually try to concentrate on the story and less on saying thanks. Though, to all my reviewers again, thank you, thank you, thank you. It's great that you take such an interest in my work. *blushes*

Again, if you have any suggestions, contact me!