Hey guys, I am so sorry this took so long to update but I'm out of the woods and now it's February break! Which is, as everyone knows a time for eating and sleeping and publishing many, many chapters to your fornication story (also a good time for trying to virally detox your computer but that's another story). On a separate note I have been reading my reviews and there are some key things that must be discussed.

One. I haven't actually fully explained the scenario with Harry's scar and I'm noticing you all seem to be a little skeptical but judgment should be reserved until all is explained. If you decide its still stupid once all is out feel free to make funny faces at your monitor and scorn me!

Two. I know that Tom found the chamber in his fifth year. In my story, it's his sixth year.

I didn't do it on purpose but now that I'm eleven chapters in I'm sort of committed. I am also aware that the year 1949 is not correct either and that Moaning Myrtle is actually a Ravenclaw. That is one of the greatest joys of writing because if I said Hogwarts was on mars, suddenly in my story it would be. I'll try to do my research a little better now that I've decided to turn this story into something long. I'm sorry for any confusion!

There will be three more chapters after this before the story begins to go darker. I also intend to start bringing the assorted Slytherin characters into this story in a more intimate way.

With that said enjoy!

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Harry awoke to the deep darkness of the Slytherin dorms on Halloween morning disoriented, with his glasses on the ground, bent as though somebody had stepped on them. Cursing what was surely a Malfoy jab as he fixed his glasses Harry began to dress.

The thin mists that had dogged the castle and the surrounding grounds had finally gathered and given way to rain that fell torrentially from clouds as dark and heavy as rotten peaches. No matter where he went some of the storm that was outside seemed to follow him. He walked to his first class after breakfast with Tom, not saying a word.

Tom who seemed to have sensed his the sate of his short temperament remained silent, as though thinking, and this disturbed Harry more than a constant stream of thought would. More and more he was beginning to feel useless.

Potions was dull and Harry had a hard time keeping his eyes open, fighting to keep his cloak wrapped tightly around him. The only sound the permeated this chilled trance like state was the sound of Tom's quill scratching across his parchment. This is itself was only usual and didn't catch his attention until Tom slid the piece of parchment across the desk to Lestrange who took it and pocketed it smiling nastily.

What did grinning thuggish Lestrange know that he didn't? Tom and for that matter Voldemort had never seemed to be the type to over share his plans and Harry had a suspicion that this was largely to keep as many people in the dark as he could. It was harder to be betrayed that way and yet wasn't he more capable than Lestrange? Not as cruel maybe but surely more capable?

Harry barley had time to muse in Transfiguration as Dumbledore had passed out one of his most challenging quizzes yet. Still, Harry felt he had gotten the majority of it correct and passing surly faced Lestrange in the hallway to lunch felt perhaps he had been one of the few. He had even managed to answer the bonus question correctly when he asked the class without hesitation. Cheered somewhat he found that his lunch tasted better and he went to the library with Tom and Grodisius for free period feeling perhaps he ought to be glad it was a holiday.

The library was packed with sixth years whose workloads were exploding rapidly. Harry tried to work diligently but could not help but notice that Malfoy was shooting him nasty glances out of the corner of his eyes. Harry did his best not to return them, thinking of his bent glasses that morning.

Ink flecked his face as Malfoy chucked his quill across the table. "This is ridiculous! It makes no sense." The scrawny boy Terrence Flint was scrubbing his essay where the quill had landed sour faced. Malfoy continued, crimpling up his half written essay, "It's all your fault really Potter, I don't see why you don't just write the essay for me!"

Harry blinked, "How is this my fault?"

"You just had to know the answer to his bonus question, now he thinks we are all little geniuses." Harry snorted, distracted. The idea that Malfoy thought he was a genius was almost amusing.

Tom however was watching them, smirking softly, "The rest of us appreciate your trouble with simple Transfiguration Grodisius, it makes us looks so much more impressive."

Harry felt a flush of surprise and something else almost connected with pride though he refused to acknowledge it. Malfoy's wan face flushed and he turned to look in any direction that didn't have on of their faces in it. "What do we have next period?" he muttered in a sullen undertone.

" Unforgivable curses in defense against the dark arts." Flint said coldly, putting his quill back in the middle of the table.

Harry looked up. He had completely forgotten that unforgivable curses were something he was supposed to learn in his sixth year as he had already gone over them so many years ago with the fake professor Moody.

At this, Malfoy seemed to regain some of his righteous swagger. He pulled out a fresh piece of parchment. " Why do they even bother waiting till sixth year. Do you know any sixth years who don't know what an unforgivable curse is? My god, I've known for ages."

Harry shook his head and returned to his writing. He had been taught most of what he knew about unforgivable curses by a death eater who had been using the polyjuice potion to look like a teacher, and yet, he had taught him a remarkable amount. If it hadn't been for the fake Moody Harry might never have escaped the graveyard.

Tom meanwhile had the slippery look of someone who was itching to get away from them and Harry did his best to keep him sitting with them as long as possible.

Professor Marvel arrived in time for class looking tired. Haggard even. Was that the way of all of his professor this week or was he imagining things?

"Good day class, as you may know we are about to tackle some difficult topics today, so if you could all open your books to page 288 and try to understand the seriousness of what we will be discussing .

Harry was a little disappointed. Books? He had expected something like Professor Moody's lesson, but that seemed to be a ridiculous idea sitting here in this classroom. The idea that professor Marvel would place them all under the Imperius curse was so funny that Harry had to marvel at professor Dumbledore's gall for hiring Moody in the first place.

Harry flipped to page 288 and began to read, stealing glances at Tom, who was quite expertly pretending to be interested, sure as he was that Tom was more than knowledgeable on the subject. Perversely it seemed, many of his fellow Slytherins seemed to be catching each others glances and grinning. Malfoy especially seemed to have a special glow of superiority about him, fingering the pages of his book languidly and pointedly paying little attention to professor Marvel who seemed to regard unforgivable curses as magic of the highest degree, drawing them formulas that Moody had forgone in favor of hexing them.

Harry sat in the library that night, his head full of thoughts. How was it that so many young Slytherin students seemed to know about dark curses and get away with it? It wasn't as though Harry found the idea of being taught from a young age how to torture someone was a good idea. It was more that, in this world of fast witted magic, it certainly gave someone an upper hand to know how to use illegal magic. After all, it wasn't as though Harry had never broken the law, far from it. It was that he had always used average hexes to do an above average job. How much easier it might be just to use an imperious curse the next time he was faced with saving the world as opposed to a blocking spell.

In the wake of these strange and tangled thoughts Harry realized that he was holding his wand. Of course it went without saying that in order to use an unforgivable curse you had to be a powerful wizard. For someone like Tom this was nothing more than a matter of fact and one that did not affect him but for Harry, would Harry even be strong enough to use an imperious curse? There was a spider on the floor by the legs of the table and Harry felt a lurch of hidden excitement. There it was, an opportunity to test himself. Harry watched the spider move slowly, his wand trained upon it, willing himself not to feel so very guilty for considering it. He had no interest in the cruciatus curse and Avada Kedavra had never seemed like anything more than a weapon designed for the purpose of killing him alone. He thought back for a moment, to that night in the graveyard…when Peter had killed Cedric so easily. Peter of all people!

Harry could hear his blood in his own ears as he muttered, "Imperio."

The effect was far greater and yet far more simple than he had expected. It was as though he were the eye of some great storm. A storm that only moved where he willed it to, a storm from which nothing was safe but himself at its center.

"Jump" Harry thought calmly.

The spider jumped much to his enhanced excitement. Harry was about to command the spider further when he heard a noise behind him. Harry turned his head and he felt the thread of magic connecting him to the spider wear thin and break. Harry took a deep breath, no longer sensing the spiders presence under his control. Tom had walked into the library and had walked past him to the restricted section. He drew out a book and sat down across from him. He used his wand to flick the spider aside and he began reading. Harry thought that Tom ignoring him completely was perhaps a bad omen.

"Tom?"

"Harry." His voice was flat, and Harry could tell he didn't want to be interrupted. What was he doing now?

Harry shifted awkwardly, remembering how hard he had worked to keep Tom from leaving their side in the library earlier. "I'm sorry if I was annoying this morning," Harry muttered awkwardly, "I'm sure you had better things to be doing but I can only handle so much Grodisius on my own."

Tom looked at him, suddenly keen and vaguely cold. "What makes you think I wanted to be elsewhere?"

Harry paused, "Well because you sort of looked like if you could have sneaked off you-"

"Sneaking off?" Tom pronounced the words with such disgust that Harry almost recoiled.

Sensing that he had gone about this the wrong way Harry retackled this subject.

"Well, yeah, sneak off." Harry repeated, agitated aware that some of his anger at himself for being so useless at discovering a secret was leaking into his speech "One minute you're right next to me, the next you're off plotting murder or something."

Tom's whole face had altered to a hardness Harry would associate more with his future self.. "What's your point?"

"It's annoying!" Harry spat.

Tom looked stunned. Harry had impression that nobody had told him he was annoying in a long time.

"I'm annoying?" He looked as though he wanted to laugh snidely, "At least I have the decency not to sneak around behind my back questioning my friends and servants."

"Ok, every time that I have done that it's been a mistake, " Harry muttered, feeling a little cornered. "Cronk thought I was you, Malfoy just blurts stuff out, and Lestrange is just nasty and thick Tom."

Harry noticed his eyes blaze when he mentioned Malfoy's name and decided to call him out before the moment slipped away. Perhaps the more honest he was with Tom, the more likely he would be to believe him. "You didn't know about Malfoy did you?" Harry asked, beating himself up.

Tom sneered. "I'm not really surprised. The record keeper I would presume? His half witted way of bragging about himself always is his downfall."

Harry shrugged. "He's better then Lestrange. Smarter at least."

From that moment on the atmosphere between the two of them seemed to lighten. Harry continued his homework, and Tom took some notes out of a book of potions that Harry recognized when he lifted it to get another piece of parchment as the book he Ron and Hermione had used in their second year to make the polyjuice potion.

" What are you making?" Harry asked curiously.

Tom looked up at him, the hardness gone but an elemental spark of something sinister about his eyes. "You're nosey, you know that Harry?"

Harry smiled and turned back to his homework on the curses.

They walked to the Halloween feast talking about Caroline Greenly, a girl who had a vicious crush on Malfoy. Of course Malfoy, who was far to vain for any woman certainly had a sense of pride about the whole ordeal and one they both found to be if not repulsive at least rather hilarious. Harry was beginning to think they had skirted away from any nasty waters when they heard a strange muffled noise from an unused class room. Voices filtered out.

"Why? Why now!"

Tom froze and grabbed Harry sternly by his Hogwarts tie. They both exchanged glances and Harry could tell at once that Tom intended to listen. Harry nodded and they both were still."

"That makes no sense Maleficent!" Came a grumbling mans voice.

"It makes perfect sense, that is how it has to happen!" A woman's, shrill and edgy.

"Then it won't happen."

"I won't pretend."

"Yes you will. I could lose my job!"

"The fat Friar already knows."

Harry was holding his breath when Tom yanked his shirt front and motioned that they go down the hall.

Harry stumbled after him confused. Tom's face was set in a kind of private grin.

They reached the great hall, pausing as the smell of food and candles washed about them.

Harry was immediately uncomfortable with Tom's smile. "What was that about?" he asked.

Tom mused for a moment. " I didn't see that coming."

Harry was panting, and hadn't the slightest idea what they had just heard. "Er, what coming? Who was that?"

Toms grin was nothing short of frightening. " You heard at least one of their names didn't you Harry? Maleficent Marvel."

Harry couldn't help but gawk. " Professor Marvel and who?"

"Augustus Droblit."

Harry couldn't believe it. "The caretaker?"

Tom's cold laugh was his confirmation. Harry could help the laugh he let out himself.

"Who'd have guessed that?"

"Nobody."

Harry frowned. "Couldn't they have found a safer place to talk then the broom cupboard on the third floor?"

Tom sneered. "Marvel is a muggle loving fool, and Augustus is dumb, even for a squib."

Harry shook his head. " I'll never have a curfew again."

Tom grinned indulgently. "Don't breathe even a word to anyone."

Harry nodded, knowing that Tom likely had an idea, and that it was most likely foul and unexpected.

Harry straightened his grin. " I won't say anything."

Tom smirked. "Were are going to be late for the feast."

Harry had nearly forgotten about the feast. The great hall was almost explosive; noise of every kind met them as they made their way toward the Slytherin table. Jack-o-lanterns hung above them, casting a long, eerie light about the hall .A clamor of live bats swarmed near the ceiling that displayed the stars set ablaze for them. Harry sat across from Tom, his stomach growling. The candle light cast over Tom and made his face older. As it always was, Harry was offered only a ghost of the monster the man would grow to be. Oddly though, Harry felt no fear. Not fear of Tom at least but of what he kept hidden. Here in public there was nothing to be worried about. Harry could understand why Ginny had been fooled. Such a soft smile on such a sinister face.

"Well." Tom glanced around, the noise and excitement around them disguising his voice nearly entirely. They were all waiting for professor Dippit to make a speech so that the feast could begin. "The Fat Friar knows."

Harry raised his eyebrows.

"The fat Friar." Tom repeated, softly as though thinking. "Augustus said the Fat Friar knew."

Harry thought for a moment, watching professor Dippit on his way to the staff table. "Yeah, he did."

Tom nodded. " Well, the fat Friars loyal to the hilt, he'll never tell us anything on purpose." Harry noticed that for all his pleasantness he still sounded almost spiteful.

"No, he wouldn't, not on purpose." Harry trailed off thinking.

Professor Dippit's speech didn't hold a candle to Dumbledore's and the feast passed in a blur of warmth, seasoned foods, and rich puddings. Harry's thoughts strayed once or twice down deserted corridors but he remained sitting, present, well fed and happy as long as he could.

Harry walked back to his common room, full, and drowsy. Lestrange challenged Malfoy to a game of gobbstones on their way through the portrait hole and Harry noticed Malfoy shrugged him off hostilely. Of course Harry had never seen Lestrange lose. Perhaps his reputation as a winner had been tarnished by the suspicion that it had nothing to do with his talent for the game.

Lestrange spent a little more than ten minutes looking for someone to play before turning toward the cuter seventh year girls. Harry watched him for a while amused despite himself before turning in for bed. Malfoy was already fast asleep and he also saw Nott at the other end of the dormitory.

Harry undressed and got into bed, feeling peaceful and calm. The entire Slytherin house was beginning to grow on him in the way that only someone who had experienced horrors might be able to understand. While it was not the way he might prefer going to sleep it was certainly not the worst thing that had ever happened to him. The last thing he thought of was Tom. Mysteriously uprooted Tom who he had not seen since dinner. He thought of the Fat Friar and everything faded into black.

The next time he blinked he saw that the room around him had changed. It was nighttime, and he was in a wooden room far removed from the cold dark of the dungeons. Moonlight streamed in through the only window, illuminating the walls. Outside he could see tall bushy trees of summertime. He could smell the intoxicating perfume of flowers. Harry looked down and saw that he was wearing his Hogwarts robes with the Slytherin emblem on the chest but that he seemed to stand taller, more alertly. The ground was dusty and Harry suddenly realized that he was standing in an attic. The thick warm air was heavy, yet he felt no fear, only purpose and the certainty of his ability to reach his goal. Harry moved forward guided by this unknown force. Before him was a door and Harry knew this was where he must go. It was old and wooden, painted a dull white like the rest of the room. Harry reached for the door knob without question. It opened far too smoothly, so quietly it was almost surreal. He was standing before a set of long, ornamental stairs that somehow told of old wealth, descending before him. The carpet was a deep red, and it made Harry think of blood as the moonlight flooded it like a pool. Just as he reached the top of the stairs, he felt a jolt, like the static on a muggle VHS. The world lurched and Harry reached out with his hands, flailing, trying to find a hold on reality.

With a thud the world righted itself and he was in his dormitory, his hands sunk into his blankets and his head stinging from where it had just collided with a head board. The alarm clock by his bed told him it was seven in the morning. He took breaths trying to will away the cold that still clung to his skin. He felt entirely un-rested as though he had spent the night out of bed, having traveled across time and country lines. Shivering Harry willed himself to think that this was impossible.

0o0o

Thanks for reading. Ill be getting around to opening the chamber soon. Harry's descent into the darkness will continue but I would like to stress that although he may act his part well he does not truly view himself as a bad guy. He is after all Harry Potter. I love to reid those reviews!