Thanks a lot, to everyone that is following this fanfic and favourited it. My gratitude to Amista, Reader-anonymous-writer, MikeTen, RavenclawGryffindor35, erikablair, Gurgaraneth, wickidzombie, Krix27 and the guests for reviewing it. Your opinion matters a looooooooooooot to me. Looking forward to your feedback.

Harry glared at the ceiling and gnashed his teeth. He was restless. His mind was a whirlpool, swift, unprogressively and incessant, a torrent of thoughts leading nowhere, spinning round swift and steady. In his sleeplessness, he was drunk on silence. It had seeped into his pores, dowsing his mind in its thick toxicity. The usefulness of his thoughts had left long ago, leaving those fatigued neurones to fire almost randomly…flailing without direction. He wanted so much to not to think at all, he wanted to be absorbed into the darkness that the night promised. He wanted to awaken, refreshed to streaming white daylight, unaware of the hours between then and now. But as usual his wishes mean nought.

There was a tenseness to his muscles that made him more like a mannequin on the thin mattress than a living, breathing person of flesh and bone. He want so much to melt onto the foam, wrapped in eider-down, and drift into the world of dreams. Yet his brain was a violent whirl of stupidity, trying to organize the chaos in his life. It sought to discover a way to control the capriciousness of people, means to acquiesce and charm them so that their encounters were laxer, less draining. Of course the task was pointless, life was far too random for a human brain to take the billions of factors that come together to form just one day for one person. Though his conscious brain knows all this but his subconscious remains stubborn in its attempts to protect him, to ensure his survival. Ironic really, what he really need to survive tomorrow was sleep, at least six hours would be nice. But for that to happen he would have to be out in less than five minutes and he knew that the odds of that happening were laughable.

That man had shaken him…something about him had just put all his senses on high alert. If only he had gotten his name, he could have researched him and put himself at ease. On top of everything else, he was deeply unsettled by his relatives' behaviour. His Uncle hadn't even locked his bedroom door tonight. Something was up and he knew he wasn't going to be able to rest until he got to the bottom of it.

Sighing, he got up and grabbed his bag from under the bed. Opening it up, he extracted his notebook from the secret compartment. He could go and visit Tom. There was still plenty of time until dawn but it was too risky. The way his Uncle was behaving was just rubbing him the wrong way. His uncle was waiting for something. It was almost like he wanted him to sneak out. No, he definitely wasn't going anywhere tonight.

He flipped the notebook open and looked at the last entry he'd made in it. Stretching his legs out, he put the notebook in his lap and tapped his chin with the pen.

Tom Marvolo Riddle

Lord Voldemort

He flipped to the next page and wrote the two names down vertically. This time he wrote Lord Voldemort first and then Tom Marvolo Riddle. He stared hard at the alphabets…everything screamed that there was definitely a connection. He then proceeded to write all the characters in alphabetic order

He couldn't help but grin when he saw that the alphabets matched. Lord Voldemort was an anagram for Tom Marvolo Riddle. Sneaky Bastard. Fate definitely wanted him to know everything about him. That's why he'd been lucky enough to find out his middle name. Marvolo…That was a very essential piece of the puzzle. He imagined that anyone else would have had a hard time figuring it out since he had a feeling that Tom would have kept his middle name secret. The twins hadn't known Lord Voldemort's real name and they probably hadn't known any of the children's' name. Speaking of that, he pulled out his phone and turned it on. Surely enough the twins had sent him the pictures, along with the video of Ginny trying to slit his throat. He repressed a laugh as he watched the video first. He was ridiculously happy to be finally rid of her. He scrolled to the picture of the children and his grin was instantly replaced by an expression of murderous rage. He wouldn't hesitate to kill Dumbledore painfully slow if he ever met him in real. He stared at Tom and couldn't help but run his finger over his expressionless face, but pain filled eyes. Once again, he found himself burning to know their colour.

The curse…There had to be a way to break it. Something told him it wouldn't be as simple as a kiss. But a kiss was worth a try. He smirked as he ran his finger over his lips. He was really losing it, wasn't he? He was thinking about kissing a possibly dead guy. There was a word for that, right? Necrophilia. Well…if he was being fair, he really wasn't attracted to Tom...not like that…not in a sexual kind of way. It was pure curiosity that made him do, what he did.

And then there was something else...something about him not having the aptitude for magic. He absolutely despised not knowing how to do something or being told that he lacked in something. He had an urge to master everything he came across. He had mastered the piano and every other instrument he could get his hands on at Saint Brutus only because he couldn't settle for mastering a single instrument like everyone else had done. When he'd been fifteen, he'd taken an interest in criminology. Saint Brutus's library had really satiated his craving for information and in a span of six months, he had read and re-read every book he could get his hands on. After that he'd developed a fascination for psychology…especially criminal psychology. Well he didn't like the name of the field because it was his firm belief that criminals were people too. They were just misunderstood, mentally ill and formerly abused human beings. They weren't born that way, they were created. But anyways… he was morbidly captivated by learning about how criminals thought, understanding their intents…their actions and reactions…

It was then, that he realized that he might be a tad bit psychopathic himself. He was an excellent liar. He felt no remorse in using people to his advantage. He was charming when he wanted to be and could get anyone to do anything if he wanted to. He wasn't bothered by it one bit. Everyone used everyone for their personal gain. There was nothing wrong with that.

Anyways…magic…now that the twins had brought it up, aptitude or not…he knew he wouldn't be able to breathe until he mastered it. Tomorrow, he was going to check the library first and then if there weren't any books there then he might have to buy them. He picked up his bag and pulled out the watch Ginny had gotten him. He reckoned he could get a couple of quids for it…enough to afford some books. He had the option of asking the twins, but he really didn't trust them. It was better that he learnt it on his own. Besides, how hard could it be?