Walking into the Great Hall, it was strange seeing that nothing had changed, and yet everything was different. The Death Eaters chatted and joked, Tom ate his toast in silence, and Harry drank as much coffee as possible.

At least now he only looked like a zombie, the caffeine meant he never had to act like one too.

Tom frowned at him in disapproval. "Really, Harry, are you trying to be the youngest wizard ever to die of a heart attack?"

"Well yeah, at least I'd be remembered when I'm gone," replied Harry, his tone more snappish than usual, the irony of his words not lost on himself. Tom at least didn't know about the fame he had back in his time.

"I had forgotten how much of a glory hog you are," said Tom snidely.

"Takes one to know one," muttered Harry, taking a bite of his bacon. He wasn't hungry, in fact after last night he'd be surprised if was hungry again, but it gave him something to do other than stare at the table.

"Touché," Tom's lips curved into some semblance of a smile. At least he never looked like a shark this time.

"Harry, are you coming to practice tonight?" Cygnus broke the silence that had fallen after Tom's remark. The Heir had a habit of creating moments of awkward silence, he really should go to a class for it.

"Oh…" The Heir looked smug and tilted his head slightly as if to give permission. Bastard. "Sure."

"We'll be on the pitch at seven, don't be late," Cygnus said hurriedly, packing up his stuff.

"Where are you going?" It was unusual for a Death Eater to leave before Tom, what made it more strange was that it was a Black and there was food still on the table.

"Margot wants to see me," Cygnus winked and Harry shuddered. Margot McCleary was a Seventh Year Slytherin with about as big a reputation when it came to the opposite sex as his godfather had in his time. It appeared the apple hadn't fallen far from the tree.

"You do realise she probably has more diseases than creatures used for medical experiments?" Tom asked coolly. Abraxus managed just at the last minute not to spit his pumpkin juice all over the table. After all it would be unbecoming of a Malfoy.

"I really don't see why you debase yourself by lusting after that creature," piped up Lestrange.

"Well you wouldn't know, would you," jeered Cygnus, "Now, if you excuse me, I'm going to be late."

"I don't think she'd appreciate that," muttered Harry, Cygnus laughing in response and clapping him on the back before walking away.

"I would rather kiss Merrythought than go near that disgrace of a Pureblood," fumed Lestrange. To Harry he seemed very much like a pigeon in this moment. You could practically see him puffing out his chest in an effort to get more masculinity back after Cygnus's remark.

"She is merely supplying a service, some people are only meant to serve," said Tom pointedly, and Lestrange blanched, hastily returning to his porridge. Harry never missed Tom's eyes flicking over to him, and he felt his hands curl into fists. There had to be someway to get out of the vow. Some loophole...

Ignoring Tom's disapproving glare, he poured himself another mug of coffee. All throughout breakfast he was aware of Dumbledore giving him curious glances. He knew he looked like Hell, probably more than usual, and so the future Headmaster was probably wondering what had happened. He guessed he could pass it off on nightmares when - not if, the man was too nosy for his own good - he was asked. After all, he never wanted to give one of the Light's biggest assets a heart attack by saying 'Oh yeah, well I walked into a trap and now I'm kinda one of Tom's followers'.

If that happened then the future would really be screwed.

Swallowing the last of the now lukewarm liquid, he and the rest of the Hall proceeded to pack up their belongings and get ready for class. Much to Harry's disappointment he had Potions.

"Do you think Slughorn will go easy on us since this is the first test since last year?" asked Avery, the bookish Death Eater had been reading up on his lesson notes all breakfast. If Harry hadn't been so preoccupied with the complete dynamic change between him and Tom he would have remembered this test.

Not only was the future fucked, so were his grades apparently.

"I daresay I can speak to him if needed," said Tom coldly, clearly showing that failure to him was not tolerated. Still perhaps the Death Eaters good grades weren't just because they were smart. Now it made sense why some of Voldemort's followers didn't have two brain cells to rub together, their Lord bribed the teacher.

Rolling his eyes, Harry pushed past them eager already to get the day over with. He was almost out of the Hall when he felt a familiar vice-like grip on his arm. The rest of the Death Eaters hurried past them and Tom smiled coldly.

"So you see it's just the same, do you believe it now?" his soft words were in complete contrast with his eyes. They looked like two orbs of ice, and Harry thought they wouldn't thaw any time this year.

"Unfortunately for you perception differs," hissed Harry, wrenching his arm out of his grasp. "Now if you'll excuse me, I don't want to be late."

He was almost surprised when Tom never ordered him back.

Darkness had rolled in fast as Harry walked up to the Quidditch pitch. He could hear more than see the others were already there. Cygnus's voice managed to carry to the castle!

Walking onto the pitch, he glanced up at the stands. Tom was sitting there staring stonily at the players below, Avery sat next to him chatting with Delilah, and Lestrange was no where to be seen. Abraxus was doing a lap whilst Cygnus was briefing the rest of the team, before seeing Harry and bounding over to him.

"Harry!" greeted Cygnus warmly, "Guys, this is Harry. Harry, this is Rosier and Mulciber, they're our beaters. Abraxus, Perdita, and Nott are our chasers, and I'm the keeper. Harry is our new seeker."

Harry felt rather like a fascinating animal being studied. Perdita, the only witch in the team, reminded him a little of Ginny. Her eyes were the same colour, but instead of flame-like hair, hers was a more chocolate brown. Nott resembled his son greatly, whilst not as lanky as Ron, he was close, and with the bulk that was Rosier and Mulciber next to him it was hard to see where he fitted in.

"Right, lets warm up with a few laps and then we'll get started," the others mounted their brooms and shot off, and Cygnus motioned to Harry to come over, "Your broom came the other day. It's a beauty."

Harry saw it propped up on the stands next to Cygnus's. It was a dark wood, Nimbus 1700 engraved on in it silver. It was nothing on his own Firebolt, but holding it Harry felt a sense of joy swell up inside his chest. With this he could escape. He owned something that could take him away from his place. He wouldn't use the time-turner for that purpose, but with this he had the chance to get away at least for a few hours and not be followed - something he had a feeling he was going to cash in on at some point. After all Tom detested flying, and he wasn't important enough to make the Heir get on a broom, he was just another mindless follower.

But then Tom's words came back to him:

'You will be different from my other followers.'

However, not even the slight doubt to his follower status was enough to dispel the happiness he felt coursing through his system. Mounting the broom he soared into the air, the cold night wind blew through his hair, not has quickly as it would on his Firebolt, but this was still freedom.

Flying higher and higher he felt the temperature drop. Soon the pitch was just a dot, and dimly he heard Cygnus calling him back. Turning, he plummeted back to the earth, feeling the adrenaline explode within his veins. Urging the broom faster he zoomed past the stands until he was about two metres from the grass, and pulling up sharply his feet touched the ground bringing him back.

"You are bloody mental!" yelled Perdita as Harry laughed. He probably sounded insane, but he never cared. After all that had happened it felt good to fly, and if the grin on Cygnus's face was anything to go by then he had just given one Hell of a performance.

The other players just looked at each other, their faces were a mask of shock and pleasure.

"Man, you sure can pick them, Cygnus!" yelled Rosier, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Where was he last year when we were slaughtered by Ravenclaw?" asked Nott.

"Harry, no more flying off. Now, unless we want to get slaughtered again lets get back to it!" yelled Cygnus, tossing the quaffle to Perdita.

They were just about to start again when a voice came from the entrance to the pitch.

"Are you so desperate you're getting suicidal players now, Black?" Squinting through the darkness Harry recognised the face of Lupin's father - he thought he recalled him being called John.

"What are you doing here, Lupin?" asked Cygnus, bristling instantly.

"We're here to practice, seems like the pitch is double booked," Harry never needed to see the shock of green hair to recognise Charlus Potter. That must have been some magic in that prank, and Harry smothered a laugh.

Apart from them Harry never recognised the rest of the Gryffindor team. He thought he saw a boy who looked a little bit like Arthur Weasley - that is if the ginger hair was anything to go by - but other than that there were no recognisable features on any of them. Then again, it was dark and he had glasses for a reason.

"Can't we just practice in one half and you in the other?" Harry suggested, trying to keep peace between the Houses.

"And then you steal our moves?" asked Charlus incredulously. Even with hazel coloured eyes and green hair the resemblance between the two was startling. Harry was almost thankful for the night so no one appeared to have picked up on it.

"You've already see me do one, and why would we want to steal yours?" Harry gave his best sneer. He did have a part to play after all.

"He has a fair point, Potter," said Cygnus, landing next to Harry.

"What is going on here?" Tom's voice pierced the night.

"It appears the pitch has been double-booked," replied Cygnus.

"Well we were here first," said Tom coldly.

"Are we really resorting this childish argument?" Lupin looked more amused than scared as he took in the sight of Tom. Finally, people that don't fear him!

"I wasn't arguing, I was merely stating a fact," replied Tom, danger underlined his words and Harry suppressed a shudder.

"And yet we still need to practice, so it appears we are at an impasse," returned Charlus, the cocky grin on his face reminded Harry painfully of his father.

"What ever happened to sharing," grumbled Harry, earning a laugh from his grandfather.

"Your minion seems to want to play," Charlus's voice took on a mocking tone, and Harry felt a stab of anger shoot through him.

"I am not his minion," hissed Harry.

"Jameson, this is not the time nor place for this argument," said Tom frostily.

"Harry," warned Cygnus.

"I'm going to put it simply. We were here first, you are too late, it is getting dark and we have better things to do than argue over a pitch," the superiority in Tom's voice made Harry's inner Gryffindor want to hit him, "Reschedule."

"And what will you do if we don't leave?" challenged Charlus. Lupin winced at this, clearly a pacifist like his son, and Harry caught Tom giving him a look saying 'This is where you get it from!'

"Do you really want me to answer that?" Tom's voice was velvety smooth, but the threat hovered in the air between them, and the Heir's magic crackled in warning.

Silence descended for a few moments before Lupin stepped back, ending it. "He's right, it's getting too dark to practice, Charlus."

Charlus remained there for a few more moments showing he wouldn't be intimidated as the rest of the Gryffindor team dispersed, before also turning and leaving gracefully. Well it appeared Harry hadn't inherited that at least.

"Does that happen often?" asked Harry, remembering the times the pitch had been double-booked in his timeline.

"Not really, but it's always interesting when it does," replied Cygnus. "Although it really is too dark to practice now."

"Sorry, I'll try and be early next time," muttered Harry.

"It's cool, we managed to toss the quaffle around a bit before you came anyway. We have a good team this year, I can feel it," grinned Cygnus, going over to the others and telling them to pack up.

Sighing, Harry put his broom over his shoulder, the familiar weight making him smile and diminishing whatever he had left of the urge to use the time-turner. He was about to walk back up to the castle when he heard his name being called.

Great. What did Tom want now?

"Harry, walk with me," said Tom abruptly, and Harry found himself practically sprinting trying to keep up with the Heir. Soon the others were far behind, and Harry was just glad he had his broom. Tom had already shown he was better at magic, but if he tried anything one whack from that would probably knock him out cold.

"What did you do to the Gryffindors to make them actually believe your threats?" asked Harry curiously.

"I follow through with them," replied Tom simply, his eyes glittered dangerously, and Harry could practically see the memories dancing in his eyes of such times.

"So did you actually want to say anything to me, or are you just walking with me because you enjoy my company?" The sarcasm would have been evident even to someone knew to the concept.

"Well you are certainly more entertaining than the others," conceded Tom.

"In a good way or a bad way?" asked Harry.

"It varies," replied Tom dryly.

"Gee, thanks," muttered Harry.

"It is remarkable how much you resemble your fool of a grandfather just now," chuckled Tom. Just yesterday he found out about his past, forced him into signing his soul away and now he was joking about it. Maybe Voldemort's insanity wasn't due to his horcruxes, maybe it was just the way he was…

"I'd rather you never brought that up," said Harry stonily.

"No one can hear us out here, Potter," whispered Tom, and Harry felt panic pierce the bubble of happiness that flying had created. Naturally he didn't show it.

"Tom, I'm warning you," threatened Harry, his hand itching to grab his wand.

"Can you not take a joke?" Tom's voice sounded vaguely amused.

"Considering you have the sense of humour of a teaspoon then no, I can't," retorted Harry.

"Your words wound me," deadpanned Tom.

"Go to the Hospital Wing then," suggested Harry coldly.

"As if you could hurt me that much," scoffed Tom.

"Have you heard of this concept called 'modesty'? I suggest you look it up as it's a trait in which you lack."

"And not give anyone else a chance to experience my brilliance. Have you heard of this concept called 'selfishness'? I suggest you look it up as it's what me being modest would be," replied Tom without a moments hesitation.

"I'm surprised you could fit through that door your head is so big," said Harry in mock amazement.

"I have my ways," replied Tom quietly, a smile tugging at his lips.

They were in the castle now and they lapsed into a comfortable silence - at least it was more comfortable than the conversation. It appeared Tom was as aware as Harry that the walls had ears.

It was a short walk to the Common Room. The candles were resting in their brackets, the flames flickering due to the wind outside. Add the fact he was walking with a psychopath and future Dark Lord, it was far from a nice stroll, and Harry couldn't help but wonder where the others were.

The only benefit was that it gave him time to think. He certainly never appreciated Tom mentioning his name. He could play off the grandfather comment, but if anyone heard he was called Potter then the consequences of that would be much harder to deal with. He knew this, just like the comments at breakfast, was Tom's way of showing he had power over him. However, their banter seemed like Tom showing him it would be the same. Urgh, this was too confusing.

Reaching the Common Room, Tom said the password, letting Harry in first. It appeared the Heir didn't trust him at this moment in time not to curse his back. Wise move.

They made quick work of the stairs, both lost in their own thoughts, and as he bade the Heir goodnight he couldn't help but think, 'So much for things being normal.'

I am really sorry about the wait for this chapter. I'm back at university now and most of my deadlines were for the end of last week. This has led to much stress and no free time. However, I'm on my Reading Week now so I was able to actually post something! I'll try and not leave it so long next time, it really has been a hectic time!

Other than that I'm not too sure about this chapter. Its purpose was to show that whilst things may not have changed to Tom, to Harry everything has shifted. A few chapters ago Cygnus mentioned Quidditch practice to that wasn't totally out of the blue! Also I thought it would have been nice to toss in his grandfather as well. Been wanting them to meet for ages, and as you can see the Quidditch rivalry is just as strong in 1943! Still, I'm not happy, but it's better than nothing. If you hate it though then I will change it. :)

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter.

Anonymous Review Replies:

Korolo: Thank you, I really appreciate that. As you can see in this chapter it is not going to be normal and that should become more obvious as the chapters go on.

Bluebird: Haha, no it is not! I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint.

Ramen God: I'm glad you like him! I don't want this Tom to end up sappy so don't worry about that, and there will be more inhumane Tom to come. :D

tomharryfangirl: I am really, really sorry about the wait. It will not be as long next time and I hope this chapter was worth it.