Bless you all for the lovely reviews~ It never fails to make me smile whenever I get to read all your wonderful comments/theories/despairing over my cliffhangers. Hope this one is just as enjoyable.


Harry hurried through the hallways, safely cocooned under the most powerful disillusionment charm he could put on himself.

Breakfast had only just begun, but he had already been up for hours at this point, unable to go back to sleep after his nightmare.

His hand absently curled over his hip, where the mark still sat, and his teeth sunk into his bottom lip in worry.

He needed bloody answers, and he needed them now. Because seeing it drawn so pleasantly on his skin had rattled him more than anything these past few weeks had.

It was a childish reaction, but Harry could not help but lick his thumb, and rub harshly at the small mark. When the symbol did not smudge or vanish, he closed his eyes, and took a deep, steadying breath.

When he looked again, it was still the same.

He choked back the urge to shout.

Viciously, he dug his nails into his skin and dragged across it. Angry red lines slashed through the blackness.

The burst of fresh pain cleared his mind.

He dropped his shirt, covering the sign of the Deathly Hallows.

Harry braced his elbows on his knees, and rested his face in his cupped hands. "Okay," he said, voice shockingly loud in the quiet of his room. "okay. That was not there before."

His whole body shuddered, and he hunched a little more. The fragile calm he had been clinging to all this time shattered.

"What the hell is happening to me?" He asked, the words frantic and confused. His fingers gripped his hair brutally as he stared at the carpet.

His eyes prickled horribly, and Harry clamped them closed to stop the tears.

He had not cried since this entire thing had happened, had barely given himself time to dwell on what this could mean for him.

But now it was all bubbling to the surface.

The fear. The uncertainty. The rage and desperation. The questions that had been plaguing him.

If he was here, did that mean Nathan was in his body? Or what if Nathan was really gone, then what was happening in Harry's time? Was his body lying in the hospital, his friends and family standing around the bed, waiting for him to come back to them?

"I'm trying." He whispered. "I'm trying but I don't know how."

And God, Ginny. Harry missed her terribly. If he thought hard enough, he could almost feel her hand gripping his tightly, refusing to let go.

It just – it was so unfair. All of this. Had he not done enough? He had lost so much already. He had…he had sacrificed himself for everyone. When was all this just going to stop? Why could he not just live a normal, peaceful life?

And now this, this symbol inked into his skin, so smooth and seamless, like it had always been there. Like it belonged on him

He stayed like that, with silent tears on his cheeks, until dawn started to peak through the curtains.

Last night had not been a good one. The surprise of the Deathly Hallows symbol showing up on his body, especially after such an intense, vivid dream, had kick-started his need to research.

So he decided to head to the one place he thought could help him.

Hermione would be so proud, Harry thought as he slipped through the library doors and into the quiet entrance room.

The desk was unmanned, which was just perfect. The last thing Harry wanted to deal with was a nosy librarian suspecting that there was someone in here sneaking around. Because that type of behaviour would just lead to trouble he would rather not deal with.

Harry moved further into the library, bypassing the bookshelves as his eyes ran over the section titles. He stopped at one and started scanning the shelves from the small, blue book he needed.

His fingers caught one, and Harry pulled it free. The Beedle and the Bard stared back up at him.

It had been a while since he had heard the story, but Harry was not particularly well-versed in Wizarding fairy tales anyway. His Muggle upbringing was both a blessing and a curse sometimes.

He tucked the book under his arm and set out for the restricted section. The door opened without a problem, and Harry stood still as the wards washed over him, probing.

His time as a substitute professor had taught him a little about how Hogwarts worked. The restricted section only reacted favourably to students carrying an enchanted permission slip, or to an adult wizard.

Harry was hoping he met the latter criteria.

With no choice but to try, Harry picked out the closest chained book and slowly opened it. He wanted for the protective spells to work, his mind playing back the last time he had done this without approval.

No screaming faces appeared, and the book stayed perfectly content in his hands.

"Huh," Harry murmured, "guess I do register as an adult, then."

He had suspected as much since that meeting with Healer Johnson. His magic was exactly the same as it had been in his time, after all.

Harry considered if he should look for the Trace. It automatically broke when someone reached adulthood, registering the change that occurred in one's magic. Harry had already dropped the Trace in his own time, and he wondered if his fully developed magic being stuffed into Nathan's body somehow circumvented the Trace on the boy.

It was worth looking into. Being able to perform underage magic without the Ministry cracking down on him would be good.

Shaking his head, Harry replaced the book and began searching in earnest.

"Time travel, time travel, time travel…" He mouthed, flitting through the books without a clue where to start. "There we are." He stopped when his eyes spotted The Essence of Time. Next to it where twelve similar books, ranging from Time Turners and Their Limits to Time and Space and How to Understand It.

Harry took them all and found the most secluded spot in the library that he could. He set up a number of charms and simple wards to discourage people from approaching, and tugged a notebook, quill and inkwell from his bag.

With everything prepared, Harry sat down to start reading. He pulled The Essence of Time to him, but paused when he saw the little blue book sitting there so innocuously. He nibbled at his lip.

Unbidden, his hands grabbed it and flipped through the book until he came across the first page of the story he needed. The page before it was illustrated with the title and three human skulls drawn in unnecessary detail. On the forehead of one, was the symbol now branded onto his hip.

Harry swallowed at the sight of it.

"'There once were three brothers who were travelling along a lonely winding road at twilight.'" He read softly, and in his ear he swore he could hear Hermione's gentle voice beating in time with his as he went through the lines.

"'But Death was cunning.'" Harry took in the pictures etched on the thick, aged parchment.

The image of Death was chilling. It looked not like a skeleton, or a hooded figure, like many muggle iterations showed. It was like smoke, thick and heavy, with a darker figure depicted in the centre. The drawing swirled on the page, and Harry had to tear his eyes away from it. Sweat trailed along his neck.

He followed the tale of the brothers. One too drunk on power to care for consequences, one overcome with a desire to humiliate and ridicule, and one wise enough to understand the danger of what they were given.

"'…and there he greeted Death as an old friend, and went with him gladly. And equals, they departed this life.'"

Harry took a shaky breath, unnerved. On the last page was a more intensely designed version of the Deathly Hallows symbol, looking Celtic with the twisting knots and thick, intricate lines.

He ran his fingers over it.

Antioch. Cadmus. Ignotus. The wand. The stone. The cloak.

He slammed the book closed, chest heaving.

Harry shoved the book across the desk violently, wanting it far away from him in that moment.

He had not thought back to that night, that moment, in a long time. He had put it in the past, and ignored what his actions could have brought on him.

He slumped on the desk, cradling his head. "It's just a stupid story." He spat. "He killed the horcrux. Not me. That's why I came back. It wasn't me."

But still…the smoky figure…

A hand snagged at his collar, and blindly Harry lashed out, stirring through something that felt more like heavy smoke than a body.

It looked just the same.

It was a mass of utter darkness, shape indiscernible, and Harry choked because suddenly there was no air to breathe.

"Harry." It whispered again, voice falling somewhere between reverent and mocking.

He shivered, fingers winding around the pile of other books, and dragged them closer to him.

Harry pushed the memory of that crooning voice away and picked up the first book on the stack. If he was going to skip his lessons today, he at least wanted something to show for it.

OoO

Simon looked around the potions classroom with boredom, eyes blinking tiredly.

Slughorn was up the front, shuffling through papers and the roll as he prepared for the lesson. The man was a strange one, what with his tendency to collect students like trophies, and ignore anyone who was not well above average.

Simon hated Slughorn for that attitude, mainly because he had never been able to make the cut and impress the man.

The only thing that soothed the balm of that was that Nathan had never gained Slughorn's interest either – and his brother was in the man's damn House.

No, his mind snarled, not my brother. He's not my brother.

Spurred by the savage thought, Simon glanced over at the Slytherin side of the room, looking for the painfully familiar form of Nathan.

He blinked when he saw the empty back desk.

Simon knew that Nathan had never been close with his housemates, especially not after that got out, but he had never missed a class before.

He sat straighter, mind twisting over what this meant.

Last night had been spectacular, because it was the first time since he had woken up that Simon had seen Nathan falter in that stubborn confidence he had somehow developed while in his coma. The other had looked downright shocked to be on the receiving end of so much disgust, and Simon had enjoyed every moment of it.

Now though…

He knew that in the past, Nathan would become withdrawn whenever the bullying got too hard for him, but skipping a class? That was different. That was noticeable in a way Nathan did not like being.

Did something happen in the common room? He wondered with a light frown. Did they do something to him after he left the hall? There were quite a few hours between when Nathan had retreated from dinner, and this morning. That was a long time where something could have happened.

He wasn't at breakfast either, now that I think about it.

Simon shook his head and looked forward, angry. Stop it. He's not my problem anymore. What do I care if they did something to him? Nathan is like a cockroach. He just keeps coming back.

But try as he might, Simon's eyes could not stay away from the other side of the room. He looked to the Slytherins themselves, to see if he could glean what had happened from them.

Only Lestrange seemed to be really aware of their missing housemate. The tall boy kept glancing over his shoulder to the back desk occasionally. Each time the dark glint in his eyes burned deeper. He looked one step away from furious.

Simon winced at the expression. Lestrange was, in his opinion, absolutely terrifying. The only person who seemed capable of even managing to keep the other under control was Orion Black, and everyone knew that kid was a few chess pieces short of a full set.

He quickly looked away before the taller boy spotted him, eyes darting to the person in front of Lestrange.

Tom Riddle was fair more interesting than anyone else in the room anyway.

Simon could admit that a part of him admired the other boy, despite his blood status. Riddle was the type of person that without explicitly knowing he was not a pureblood, you would not be able to tell otherwise.

There was just something so incredibly forceful about Riddle that drew attention, and charmed whoever he turned his focus on.

It had initially irritated him last night, when he saw Nathan being invited into Riddle and Black's circle. His brother was hardly worthy of being in their company.

But Carrow's timely interruption had effectively driven Nathan back from the idea.

"Now, attention please class."

Simon turned back to Slughorn, who was slipping his glasses onto his nose and unravelling the roll.

The man made his way down the names with a pace that was unnecessarily slow.

"Nathan Ciro?"

No one spoke up.

Simon bit his lip and glanced back over at the Slytherin side, just as everyone did.

"Mr. Ciro?" Slughorn raised his eyes as well, but rather than searching the room, he looked directly at Riddle.

The boy smiled, "I'm afraid he was not feeling well this morning professor."

Slughorn nodded, "Ah, very well then. Thank you, Tom. Someone be sure to let Mr. Ciro know what the homework is for today."

And there was the negligent behaviour they all knew. Not even assigning a specific student to the task, just assuming someone would eventually do it.

The Slytherins all agreed obediently, but Simon doubted any of them would actually pass the information on.

"Simon Ciro?"

"Here, sir."

Simon was about to look away, when the oddest thing happened.

Once the class' attention was firmly back on Slughorn, Riddle turned around to trade a look with Lestrange. The two boy stared at each other, before Lestrange shook his head.

A slight frown came to Riddle's face, his eyes narrowing just slightly as his gaze shifted to the empty back desk.

He looked annoyed, but only for a beat, before he too was facing forward.

Simon hummed to himself, intrigued. So Riddle must have been lying about Nathan's wellbeing. And if that look had been anything to go by, neither Riddle nor Lestrange actually knew where Nathan had scurried off to.

Interesting. But Riddle hates Nathan. Why would he cover for him?

Simon finally pulled his full focus back to the blackboard once Slughorn had finished with the roll. He listened with half an ear as the professor told them of the potion they would be evaluating today.

He wrinkled his nose in distaste. He hated the Polyjuice Potion.

"Now, of course we shan't be making this potion for assessment, due to its incredibly advanced nature." Slughorn explained with a polite chuckle. "But it never hurts to know and understand just how these high level potions are created, and what their purpose is."

The man turned to the blackboard and began writing. "If you all turn to page 42 of your textbooks, there will be a passage about the effect of the Polyjuice Potion."

Simon opened his textbook and started reading, ignoring the persistent echo in the back of his mind.

OoO

Harry left the library with a heavy head and pounding temples.

He was no stranger to long nights parked at his desk, because sometimes being an auror meant writing reports more than catching criminals, but this was something different.

Nathan's body, while becoming gradually stronger thanks to his exercise, was still rather scrawny, with more limits than Harry was used to.

He was also a growing child, meaning that his body protested a lot earlier than Harry anticipated. He had forgotten just how exhausting it could be to be a teenager at school.

Harry sighed, rubbing at his face as he stopped next to a window. It was late afternoon. He had missed an entire day of classes, and he had next to nothing to show for it.

Because apparently time travel of this magnitude was impossible, and if it ever was successful, would be horribly unstable. Words like 'ceasing to exist', and 'loops', and 'alternate timelines' were in abundance.

"Thanks for those comforting pieces of information." Harry grumbled. Being told his situation was impossible did nothing to help since clearly it was if he was here.

One thing all the books had stressed though was not altering the timeline, which Harry had already decided against. He knew the consequences, but having them listed in front of his eyes was a good reinforcement. The last thing he wanted was to accidently cause the people he cared about to never be born.

Harry blew out a loud breath and leaned against the wall, massaging his growing migraine.

He knew he needed to head back to the common room soon, or else swing by the kitchen to get some dinner so he would not have to spend it with his lovely housemates again.

And I do need to go to class tomorrow. Harry scrunched his face up at the thought of attending lessons. He would already know most of the answers, since not only had he done this year before, but he was also a stand-in professor.

He just knew it would be painfully boring for him in class.

Repeating school was like one of those abstract stories some muggle movies liked to joke about, or that nightmare Ron sometimes claimed to have.

Harry felt his lips twitch upwards at the thought of his best friend.

He missed them all terribly, and last night had made the ache sharper than it had been before.

Harry sighed once more, deciding to head to the kitchen since he had skipped both breakfast and lunch. His stomach was rebelling, but at least the house-elves would happily prepare something for him.

Plus he loved the atmosphere of the kitchen, the buzz of magic, the pans and utensils whizzing about the air, and the tantalising smells. It was all so mesmerising.

Later, stomach pleasantly full and mind fuzzy, he stumbled back into the common room. Nobody really looked up as he entered, save a few. Of those that bothered, most glared.

If Harry was inclined to care about their opinions of him, he might have done something about it. As it was, he was much more interested in heading to bed.

"Ciro!"

Or not.

He tilted in the direction of the voice, his response to the name thankfully becoming faster.

Orion waved at him from where he was sitting surrounded by boys their age. And Riddle. Fantastic.

Harry groaned quietly but made his way towards them. "Orion, hey." The younger boy tugged on his arm, wordlessly pulling him down to sit next to him. On the boy's other side, Gus watched carefully.

"Where have you been young man?" Orion asked, though the voice he put on made it more humorous than demanding. Harry swallowed the urge to smirk.

"Out. Why?"

Orion shoved him, "Uh, because I've just heard from the others that you were nowhere to be found today during class. People were saying you were sick, and yet here you are, perfectly fine."

Harry nodded along, mildly surprised about the lie of being unwell. It was a good excuse, except that meant that if word got back to Benedict and Cynthia, they might do something out of concern.

"Well?" Orion prompted.

Harry shrugged, "I was feeling a little under the weather, but I was fine towards the afternoon." He looked at the books around them and swiftly changed the subject. "What are you working on?"

Orion looked at him, unimpressed, but answered anyway. "Transfiguration homework. The others are doing their potions stuff."

"Oh, nice." Harry leaned forward, reading over the younger boy's questions. "Animagi, huh? Are you interested in them in particular, or was this assigned?"

Orion squinted at him in confusion. "Both. We have to write an essay on the benefits and affects of a type of transfiguration. I chose this."

Harry nodded. "Well that's pretty easy. There are heaps of benefits to being an Animagi."

The younger boy cocked his head, and he looked to be humouring him. "Oh?"

Harry narrowed his eyes, not appreciating the sarcasm. I'm smarter than you by a long shot, kid, he thought testily, and I'm not afraid to prove it.

"Sure." He answered, and a smug grin pulled at the corners of his mouth. "As an Animagus your emotions are not as complex, so while you retain all of your mental facilities, you are not as prone to emotional outbursts. Very helpful against something like, say, Dementors, which directly affect someone's emotions. Being able to think clearly without being dragged down by the sense of hopelessness and cold is pretty important."

He carried on when Orion's eyes flickered with something like shock.

"And whatever animal you transform into can sometimes influence how you act as a human, which can be both useful and dangerous, I guess. A dog Animagus might be unfailingly loyal to the ones they love, or a wolverine Animagus might exhibit aggressive tendencies." He paused, remembering a particularly vicious unregistered witch who loved attacking in her wolverine form. Two of the aurors with Harry that day had been critically injured and had spent months recovering.

He blinked and came back to himself, adding one last piece of information. "It's also possible to forcibly turn an Animagus back to their human form."

One of the boys off to the side snorted loudly, and Harry turned to him, a little surprised to find the entire group watching him. The boy sneered at him. "There is no way to turn an Animagus back unless they wilfully do it." He said, sounding too confident.

Harry raised an eyebrow at him. "Sure there is," he told him. "the Homorphus Charm."

"The what?" The boy asked, forehead creasing and face showing just how insane he thought Harry was right now.

Harry twitched, looking down and thinking frantically. How do they not know about it? It was a revolutionary development in countering Animagus transformations. He wanted to shift uncomfortably. Oh God, has it not been invented yet? Shit. Why did I even open my mouth?

He cleared his throat, excruciatingly aware of their eyes on him. "You know what, never mind. Clearly I don't know what I'm talking about." He turned back to Orion. "But that stuff before, about the emotion and traits crossing over is definitely true."

"Thank you." The younger boy said, making no move whatsoever to reach for his work or take his eyes off of Harry.

Harry looked away from that stare, eyes coming to rest on Riddle without even meaning to.

The other boy had a roll of parchment spread out on a polished wooden lap desk, balanced perfectly on his crossed knee.

Riddle was writing, but Harry knew that he was paying attention to what they were saying.

He nibbled on the inside of his bottom lip as he stared at the young Dark Lord.

He looked so normal, and even with the small amount of time he had spent here, Harry was almost accustomed to the sight of Riddle already.

The main odd thing was just how painfully young Riddle was right now. He did not look like a particularly evil or vicious individual. In fact, if Harry did not know any better, he would think he was just a regular, albeit smart, student.

But he was not. And Harry had to remember that even at the tender age of fourteen, Tom Riddle was dangerous.

Still. Watching him do something as ordinary as homework was as fascinating as it was unsettling.

Shouldn't you be plotting murder?

"Do I have something on my face?"

Harry blinked, "Huh?"

Riddle glanced up at him, expression mocking. "You're staring awfully hard."

The boys around them snickered, and the undercurrents of cruelty had Harry's lips thinning. "Am I making you uncomfortable?" He asked, almost demanding in his tone.

"Not at all." Riddle replied swiftly.

"Then what's the problem?" Harry smiled, teeth kept firmly behind his lips.

Riddle returned the gesture. "No problem. Just curious." He stopped, and out of nowhere he held out a handful of loose pieces of parchment. "Here."

Thrown at the sudden change of topic, Harry stared blankly at the paper. He hesitated to touch them, his brief time as Nathan strengthening his already heightened vigilance. "What is it?"

If Riddle was offended at being left hanging, he showed no sign of it. The boy merely watched him with those inquisitive eyes. "Your assigned classwork. I made sure to get it all for you. Can't have you falling behind even further."

Harry strangled back the biting comment he wanted to make at that. Slowly he reached out, and just before he touched the parchment, he sent a wave of delicate magic over them, probing for curses or anything remotely dangerous.

They were clean.

"Thanks."

Harry took the offered pages and leafed through them, taking in the questions and assignments with disinterest. He only just caught the glance Riddle shared with Orion and Gus. Harry's attention snapped back to them. "What?" He asked, lowering the homework.

Orion smiled sunnily at him, "Nothing." He patted Harry's shoulder. "Would you like some help with your homework, Ciro?"

Harry returned his focus to the neatly written words and shook his head. "No, that's alright, I'll be fine."

Orion's hand lifted away from his arm. "Are you sure? It would only be fair. And you might have some…gaps."

Which is a nice way of telling me my brain is broken.

Harry smiled brighter, but his eyes were sharp. "I'm sure I can manage, Orion. Thank you, though." It's not like I haven't done all of this already.

"I'm heading up now. I'll see you tomorrow."

"And will you actually be attending class, Ciro?" One of the boys he did not know asked, and Harry had trouble picking if he was more against the idea of him being in class, or skipping.

"Oh, definitely." Harry assured him, unable to keep the amusement off his face. "I can't wait to learn all this very important information. Have a good night, kids." He ended with a quiet snort and a half-hearted flap of his papers.

He made for his room, pausing only slightly at the door and scanning the interior for any signs of tampering or unwanted visitors. The chill from last night crept up his spine again, reminding him of the there-but-not presence he had felt.

"You're losing it, Potter." He muttered, closing the door firmly behind him and feeling the wards gently reform around him.

He chucked the pile of paper onto his desk and rubbed at his face. "Now the question is, do I suddenly become a genius, or dumb it down?"

Harry tossed a glance at the homework Riddle had gathered for him. And was that not a disturbing thought.

Why would he even bother? It's not like he and Nathan were close. And I sure as hell haven't given him a reason to play the friend card.

What did Riddle think he would even gain from associating with him?

He ruffled through the paper absently, deciding to ignore Riddle and his confusing actions. He doubted he would be able to figure out what the murderer-to-be wanted right now anyway. Riddle's mind was like a bag of cats.

He had more important things to consider.

Nathan was only barely above average. Everyone would get suspicious if he suddenly started topping every class. Then again, do I really want to spend however long I'm here writing mind-numbingly boring pieces of assessment?

Harry scratched at his chin, missing the faint stubble that usually cropped up every couple of days.

"It's not worth it." He eventually decided with a sigh. "Mediocre, here I come."


And you finally have some answers to certain questions. Most of you had already guessed what symbol it was so kudos for all you smart cookies haha~