"You've really made an appointment to speak with Dumbledore about him, Ginny?"

"I have," she quickly shoved the paper she'd been working on into her bag. "We couldn't properly investigate Tom Riddle without at least one of us speaking to the only Professor who ever saw through his veneer. Not to mention it would go a long way for preventing any claims that we're throwing around baseless accusations for the Headmaster to be aware that we have been doing research." Ginny pulled the strap of her bag over her shoulder. "I'll see you and Luna at lunch. We'll go and see McGonagall about him afterwards. We need to do our best to put an end to him being here as soon as possible; not only has this already gone on for too long, he's become comfortable enough to start making threats."

"Not only that, but Harry is starting to get mad as well. Do you really think that what we're doing is such a good idea?"

"He's not in his right mind, Neville. Just like I wasn't, back then." She told him. "He'll thank us once we've ripped Riddle's claws out of him. I'll see you later."

She stepped up into the portrait hole and exited the common room without another word, descending from Gryffindor tower and quickly making her way through the corridors of the Castle towards the Headmaster's office. After reciting the password she'd been alerted to in the note that she'd received, she scaled the staircase hidden behind the statue of the gargoyle and knocked on the door at the top.

"Come in." With permission granted, Ginny pushed open the door and stepped inside. Dumbledore, who had at the time been standing at the window of his study, turned towards her with a small smile on his face. "Good afternoon, Ms. Weasley. You wished to speak with me about Tom Riddle?"

"I did, Sir."

"Might I inquire about the reasons behind your sudden interest in the young man who Lord Voldemort once was?"

"I know it's been four years since what happened in the Chamber of Secrets, Sir," Fawkes ruffled his feathers and sidled slightly to the right on his perch, "but I've never fully gotten over what happened. Over my contact with…him. I suppose that I was hoping that you could answer some of my lingering questions: you did teach him while he was a student here at Hogwarts."

Dumbledore nodded slowly, crossing the room to the bird stand and offering the Phoenix sitting there a Lemon Sherbert. "Thomas Marvolo Riddle truly is a lost soul. Born under the effects of a powerful love potion to a father who did not want him and a mother who survived only long enough to name him, raised at a Muggle orphanage which taught him hate instead of love, thrown into a House which turned on him because they believed he had 'dirty blood' and ultimately becoming the wielder of power which was dropped by fate and a nearly moldered book into his lap."

His voice was solemn and tinged with sadness.

"It was through the pain of isolation that he turned to the power which Darkness offered, and it was in the crucible of loathing-of the Muggle world which ostracized him because he was different than them, the Magical world which wanted nothing to do with him until the truth of his bloodline came to light, and of himself who he viewed as weak for hurting in the absence of the love of friends and family-that the monster our world now knows as the Dark Lord was born."

The Headmaster shook his head.

"I wish that I had done more for him while he was still able to be saved. Had someone been there to love him, and offer him the chance to learn to love in return, it is my belief that he would have turned out to be a good person." The small smile returned. "Regardless of his numerous insistences otherwise."

"You're saying that we should have pity for him, Sir?"

"Sympathy. As I told Harry before he left at the beginning of the year in order to attend to matters of concern, even the Darkest of men are born babies. Not evil. Sympathy, empathy and understanding are necessary tools in defeating our enemies so that we do not ourselves become worse than them."

"But it's too late for him now, isn't it?"

He nodded solemnly. "Sadly, it is indeed. Through conventional methods." Dumbledore's blue eyes glittered merrily at the sight of Ginny's confusion. "Does that answer your questions, Ms. Weasley?"

"I suppose, Sir." She said. "Thank you for your time, Headmaster."

"Of course. Should you find yourself with any other questions, feel free to turn to myself or any other staff members: help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it. Now, I believe that you should be heading to lunch?"

"Thank you, Headmaster."

That had been…less than informative. Confused, she left the Headmaster's office and headed down to the Great Hall. Ignoring the snide comment of a Slytherin girl who passed her by on the way into the Hall she headed towards the table draped in red and gold. Tom sat smiling and laughing, arms wrapped around Harry like pythons as he put on some sort of charade to gain the attention of those surrounding them. Frowning, she skirted around them and headed to the far end of the table.

It wasn't long before Neville joined her. "How did it go?"

"To be honest with you, Neville, I don't really know." She said. "It was almost as if he were purposefully talking in circles. Maybe Ron is right about him having begun to go senile. I suppose that it's reasonable, to a point, to have an understanding for the Humanity of your enemy but it's almost as if he feels sorry for the Dark Lord. And he said a few things that were strange."

"Like what?"

"When the topic of his being beyond saving came up he said that he was, through 'conventional means'. Though what that means I have no idea." Ginny told him, filling her plate with whatever was nearby, "I just hope that Professor McGonagall proves to be more informative."

The rest of the meal passed in relative peace through forced conversation regarding absolutely anything else. Eventually the platters and plates filled with food began to empty, and with them crowds of students began to filter out of the room. The staff table emptied quickly, the Professors returning to their offices to attend to grading and their various other duties. The raven and dark brunet had risen from their bench now; Tom hissed something flirtatious into Harry's ear, causing the other boy to color slightly, and then dragged him out of the Great Hall. Eventually, Luna wandered over to them from the now almost empty Ravenclaw table.

"We're going to speak with Professor McGonagall, now?" she asked as the two Gryffindors rose from the Lion House table.

"Yes, we are." Ginny said, pushing the bench that she'd been sitting on back under the red and gold draped table. "She should be in her office now, and will hopefully be willing to speak with us on the matter."

Professor McGonagall was, indeed, in her office on the first floor of the Castle when they arrived at the door. A fire crackled in the large stone hearth behind the desk at which the Transfiguration Professor sat, dressed as usual in her emerald green cloak and hat and looked up at them rather sharply when they entered.

"Ms. Weasley, Ms. Lovegood, Mr. Longbottom. Is there something I can do to help the three of you?"

"We think so, Professor." Ginny said as Neville shifted uncomfortably and Luna looked around in a somewhat glazed manner. "Given the potential for war with the Dark to breakout at any moment, the three of us decided that we should be best served to do as much research into them as possible so that we can assist Harry and the Order of the Phoenix to the best of our abilities."

"Given that all three of you were all a part of Potter's ill-conceived banned Defense Against the Dark Arts class last year," she sounded anything but scolding and appeared to be struggling against a smile, "I'm not at all surprised. Have a seat."

All three did as they were told.

"Ginger newt?" their Professor indicated a small tin sitting open on the corner of her desk.

"No thank you, Professor." Neville said, a sentiment which was reflected by Ginny.

"Oh, that sounds marvelous. Thank you." Luna leaned forward to happily take one of the cookies. "Though you shouldn't leave the tin open like that. Ginger flavored foods are known to attract Gulping Plimpies, after all."

At least it wasn't Wrackspurts this time.

"You have been doing research into Dark Magic, have you?"

"Oh, no, not Dark Magic. We've actually been more focused on…researching our opponents themselves." She told her, picking nervously at the arm of the chair which she was sitting in. "We were wondering…what can you tell us about Tom Riddle?"

The reluctant upturn to her lips vanished, McGonagall's face instantly resuming its typical stern expression. "Why would you come to me to ask about the boy that the Dark Lord used to be? Surely there are better people whom you could speak to on the matter, Ms. Weasley. Such as the Headmaster."

"We've already spoken to almost everyone who could possibly have known him, Professor. Professor Dumbledore, Professor Hagrid, Moaning Myrtle, the Grey Lady. But there are still a few holes in the picture that we've managed to put together and, since we heard that you went to school with him, we thought that maybe you could fill them in?"

Professor McGonagall huffed and sat back in her chair behind the desk. Seeing no way out of answering their questions, the Deputy Headmistress adjusted her squared-off spectacles before beginning to speak.

"Thomas Marvolo Riddle was always…odd. Even for a wizard. From the beginning he had a Dark aura around him and he seemed almost hollow. When I first met him it was on the Hogwarts Express: when I saw him sitting in an empty compartment alone I offered to sit with him, but he simply stared at me until I walked away. Perhaps if he'd wound up in any of the other three Houses he'd have merely remained antisocial and cold, but the Sorting Hat chose to put him into Slytherin. Sorted him without even being fully put on; in all my years I've never once seen it display such behavior again as it did on that night. Snake House was not kind to him."

One of the logs in the fire behind her crumbled in half and fell with a pop and a crackle.

"They saw a small, scrawny boy in threadbare secondhand robes who did not know his parents and bore a Muggle's name. They branded him as a Muggleborn and for almost four years they tormented him ruthlessly. The endless attacks inflamed his paranoia and slowly transformed his inherent apathy into white hot rage. Many of us, myself included, felt sorry for him but between the already present school-wide ill-will towards the members of Slytherin House perpetuated by the older students and the fact that any effort to reach out to him were met with increasingly hostile reactions our sympathy quickly disappeared. The message that Thomas wanted nothing to do with friendship was very clear. But everything truly began to go downhill towards the end of our Second year when he came out of the Forbidden Forest with a venomous snake and Armando Dippet let him keep it."

Neville and Ginny exchanged a glance.

"He spent the entirety of his third year searching for his blood-line and left Hogwarts in a better mood then I had ever seen him. When Thomas returned he'd grown, transforming from a small boy into a tall and strapping young man despite the rationing in the Muggle world which had begun because of the war. He subdued the House which had tormented him for so long, going from an outcast to a God in their eyes, and he demanded to be treated as nothing less. Rumors spread that he was, in fact, the sole remaining Heir of Salazar Slytherin. And bad things began to happen to those who had oppressed him and those who dared to continue to oppose him. Pets would go missing and turn up later brutally tortured and killed. Serpents would find their way into beds and trunks and showers. Younger students who found themselves alone with him were never the same. He took from his Head of House the idea of forming an inner circle of his favored classmates-those from Slytherin whom he could control-and the things which he got up to with them-aside from practicing illegal magic-could only be described as utter debauchery!"

She paused to clear her head of evidently unwanted thoughts and images.

"When our Fifth year came around he was appointed as a Prefect of his House, as I was on mine, giving him all but free reign to roam the halls at all hours and do as he pleased. I very nearly had to run myself ragged to prevent him from abusing his power and destroying the school! And so, when Myrtle Warren was found dead one night in the first floor bathroom after being chased there by the bullying of members of her own House, I wasn't surprised. Thomas' unnatural fascination with the removal of her body made it all but certain that he had been involved in it somehow, despite Hagrid being expelled for the incident. He made a point to behave for the rest of the year, knowing that Dumbledore was watching him. In our sixth year he made use of his silver tongue and Horace Slughorn's inability to recognize manipulation to become Head Boy despite everything he'd done and even while not being in his final year, using him to get a recommendation for the position which he used to bend Dippet to his will. And by the time that we graduated from Hogwarts he'd even begun to change in appearance. His cheeks hollowed and his eyes shadowed, and he became oddly protective of both his diary and his family ring."

Professor McGonagall's gaze was severe behind her glasses, face set in a look of distaste.

"It was no great shock to me that, despite his vast intelligence, he immediately went into a career as a snake-oil salesmen peddling Dark objects for the likes of Caractacus Burke. The next that I heard of him was a handful of years later: by that point he'd gone entirely insane with power and had begun the first Wizarding War. Now, I believe that answers your question. If the three of you have nothing further to ask I'm going to have to ask the three of you to leave so that I can finish grading the papers which were recently turned into me by my Fourth year class."

"No, Professor, we don't have any more questions." Ginny said as she got up from her chair. "Thank you for giving us the answers that you have. I think we have a good picture of him now."

"I don't see how any of that could help us, Ginny." Neville said as soon as the door of the office had closed behind them. "We've learned a few new things, sure, but I don't think any of that will be useful."

"The last thing that she said is: he was protective of both the diary and his family ring. The diary was destroyed in the Chamber of Secrets and is still in the Headmaster's office, so the object that Harry came into contact with while he was abroad has to be the ring!" She sped her pace. "We need to get that ring away from him and destroy it somehow!"

"I'm not so sure anymore that what you believe is going on is really going on." Luna said, beginning to drift away towards a separate corridor. "I think I'm going to go and consult with Professor Trewlaney on the matter while you do that."

Ginny didn't even make an attempt at slowing down, leaving Neville to make a split second decision regarding which of the two girls to follow. The Fat Lady's portrait swung open to allow them into the common room.

"Tom took Harry out of the Great Hall at the end of lunch: they might be up in the dorms. Come on." She drew her wand as soon as they were on the stairs, Neville slightly more hesitant to follow her example. They reached the top of the stairs to the 6th year boy's dormitories quickly and Ginny's eyes ricocheted around the room. Taking in the sight of the empty bunks all around them, Nagini's coiled form sleeping atop Tom's pillow and the drawing secured around Harry's bed from behind which a muffled whimper issued.

The red-head practically threw herself across the room with Neville right on her heels, his former nervousness forgotten and both of their wands raised. She ripped the drawings back from the bed, expecting to find herself confronted with a horrifying scene of torture and pain, and froze. Eyes widening as her face immediately began to burn.

Harry lay sprawled on his back atop his bed, knees pulled up towards his heaving chest covered in a sheen of sweat and head thrown back in ecstasy, scattering his raven hair across the sheets in all directions. Eyes squeezed tightly shut as he bit his lips in an only mostly successful attempt at keeping himself quiet. One of his hands fisted in the sheets beside him and the other buried firmly in Tom's hair. The dark brunet was shirtless but, unlike the raven, still in a state of half dress. One hand was firmly secured to Harry's hip to prevent the smaller male from bucking upwards and choking him and the other-the one bearing the now entirely forgotten ring-was seeing to what little his mouth couldn't quite reach.

If it were possible to die from mortification, Neville probably would have keeled over then and there. And Harry wouldn't have been all that far behind him once he realized that their activities were being observed.

"Nnh…nnh…oh shit, Ginny!" He snatched up his pillow from where it had been lying beside his head and began an honest effort at smothering himself in a futile attempt to hide the blush which had spread all the way down to his chest.

Tom, pupils blown wide with lust, released Harry with a soft pop and sat back. Reaching up to wipe a thin trickle of drool from his chin and not even bothering to make an attempt at hiding his own arousal. "Do you mind?"

"… …" Struck dumb and slack jawed, Ginny simply stared.

"We heard," Neville squeaked, swallowing thickly before trying again, "we thought…n-never mind. Carry on."

The dark brunet yanked the drawings back into place after casting a Silencing Charm for good measure. Neville and Ginny both remained standing precisely where they were a few moments longer before turning away.

"I don't need that image stuck in my head, Ginny." Neville told her shakily as they finally headed for the stairs, looking pale and slightly clammy. "Obliviate me, would you?"

"Only if you Obliviate me first."

Annoyed, Tom returned his attention to his abashed lover as soon as he heard their latest annoyance leave the room.

"They're gone, love." He soothed, stretched himself out beside him and pressing his lips into the soft flesh just above the raven's hip. "You don't need to hide."

"I'm going to die of embarrassment, Tom!"

"Don't exaggerate." He began to slowly move upwards. Inch by inch. Imparting small chaste kisses across alabaster skin.

"I can never show my face to either of them again."

"They're going down to Obliviate each other as we speak, Precious. Which is lucky for them: the only one allowed to see, and remember, your full glory is me and if they weren't doing it of their own accord I'd have to hunt them down to do it myself." Tom growled.

"Please, someone, just kill me!"

"No one is going to kill you."

"I knew we should have used the Silencing Charm to begin with!" He bemoaned into the pillow still covering his face.

"It was your idea not to in the first place: wanting to prove to me that you could keep quiet." Tom's mouth roved across Harry's stomach and started up his chest.

"Against my own better judgement!"

"Somehow," Tom purred, gently wrestling the pillow away from him to reveal his face, "I get the feeling that most of what you do and have done in the past could, in retrospect, be found to be 'against your better judgement' pet." He claimed the smaller male's lips with his own and kissed him deep and long until the last traces of embarrassment had gone out of him. "So, my love, shall we continue where we left off?"

"I…" Harry's green eyes fell away from his and onto their clasped hands. "I'm sorry, Tom, but after that I don't think I can…you know."

Another small peck placed against his left temple. "Don't apologize, Harry." The dark brunet flopped down beside him and grinned. "It's been a while since I've had to beat myself off, but I still remember how to do it." Tom told him. "Would you rather I do so in my own bunk?"

"No," Harry nestled closer to his partner and leaned his head against his shoulders, absently beginning to draw senseless patterns across the muscled contours of his chest. "Stay. Not only would Nagini most certainly not be pleased to have you disturbing her over such a thing, I'm sure it'll be easier for you if I'm here."

"That it would, Precious," he said, Harry's cheek pressing lightly into the curve of his jaw, "but what I think you mean to say 'I want to watch'."

Harry shrugged slightly. "I'm not going to deny it."

"And to think you tried to tell me that you don't have any kinks."

"You all but offered me a show, Tom."

"I did, indeed, all but offer you a show." He replied with a smirk. "Would you like one?" Graceful, long fingered hands slid down over his flat stomach and plucked teasingly at the waistband of the slacks he still wore. "If you would, I'd be all too pleased to give you one." The top button came undone with a soft pop and the zipper was swiftly pulled down. "So tell me, Harry," those dark eyes met his, so close that their lips almost brushed and Tom's hot breath fanned across his face, "shall I touch myself for you?"

The raven's mouth had suddenly gone very dry: he tried twice to speak, but after repeatedly only managing to produce a hoarse noise he simply nodded.

Another kiss was gently pressed to his temple before he spoke into his ear. "As you wish, Precious."

Slowly, teasingly, he pulled down his slacks. Lifting his hips off the mattress and pushing his last articles of clothing down to his knees. Revealing the pale flesh of strong thighs and his reddened, leaking member standing erect amidst a nest of dark hair.

Harry's hand slid down to rest against the taller male's stomach, trailing gooseflesh in the wake of blunt nails as he traced his fingers along an old scar which had gouged a raised silver slash mark from the bottom of his ribcage to the flare of his hip as one of Tom's took his place on his chest. Dragging down over each of his ribs. Circling and flicking pink, perked buds as his other hand slowly wrapped around his hot flesh, encircling it finger by finger until his grip was secured around his hardened member.

"Precious," Tom hissed in Parseltongue as he began to slowly stroke himself. Letting his head fall back and his wet lips part as his pace steadily increased. "So good."

Harry could feel Tom's body shaking underneath him. His heart beat thundering in his ear and his breathing ragged. Muscle's rippling fluidly under his palm. Pulse thudding in his neck. He shuddered, his back arching, as he brought himself to completion before reaching for his wand to clean himself up.

"Well," his pale skin was now flushed with a pleasant pink tint, "now that that's done with, what would you like to do to fill the rest of our Saturday?"

"I'd be fine with doing anything, but don't have anything particular in mind. Though we should probably get dressed before someone else comes barging through my drawings." Harry said as he pushed himself upright. "Is there something that you would like to do?"

"Want to see if we can get into the Room of Requirement? I'm suffering a bit of an ivory itch: I really want to play the piano."

Both got up from the bed and quickly redressed, then stepped out from behind the drawings of his bed. Tom's shirt hung open over his sculpted chest and his pants rode low on his hips. Harry stared openly at his smirking boyfriend as he tossed his school robe onto his bed and quickly began to button up his shirt.

"Sex-hair looks spectacular on you, Precious." The dark brunet pulled him close and squeezed him briefly before taking his hand. "Let's go."

They descended the dormitory stairs and crossed the common room-Harry making a point not to look in the direction of Ginny and Neville-before exiting into the corridors outside. Harry wasn't expecting much in the way of their chances, given the fact that they'd managed to get into the Room of Requirement once so far in the entire semester, so when the door popped into being he was minorly surprised. Tom turned the knob and pulled him through the door.

The Room of Hidden Things had only grown more cluttered since Tom's time, now including such items as tables scattered with lost and broken wands, a teapot with chicken legs and a cage containing the skeleton of some sort of exotic creature which Harry had never seen before. The dark brunet led the way through the labyrinth of detritus, winding his way between hillocks and crevices in search of the piano.

The raven's surprise, as they were passing the Vanishing Cabinet, Tom stopped and moved towards it. Stepping over a scattering of shredded apples and mutilated sparrows he cautiously opened one of its doors.

"Someone has been messing with this." He noted, swinging the door open and closed and then beginning to examine the hinges and shelves. "It almost looks like they were trying to repair it. The question is, why?" when Harry didn't respond, Tom turned. "Harry?" a brief examination of the area found the raven attempting to climb up the side of the nearest mound, gaze cautiously set on what looked like a silver tiara. "Precious, Stop!"

The other boy jumped, nearly losing his grip, and turned his head to glare at him.

"Didn't you hear my warning about not touching anything in here the first time that we came to this room? Things are left in here for a reason: a lot of the junk making up these piles are Dark objects. Come down!"

"It's talking, Tom."

"Talking?" the dark brunet repeated. "What's talking? I don't hear anything."

"The tiara."

"Well, don't listen to it!"

"I'm not-it's hissing, anyway-I just want to see what it is."

"Hissing?" Tom scrambled up after him and caught his ankle to pin him in place. "You mean Parseltongue?"

"No. Like…white noise, I guess. It's not saying anything, it's just sound. Now let go of me, I only want to-."

"No! Messing around with the contraband of the past is not why we came in here, Potter!" His sharp authority melted almost immediately, a pleading tone invading his dark voice. "Please, Harry. Leave it. Let's just go find the piano."

The raven continued clinging to the side of the mound for a while longer, green eyes set the sapphire dangling from the ridiculous looking headdress which continued its garbled murmuring just below his range of comprehensive hearing, before he sighed and released his grip. Allowing Tom to yank him back to safety.

"Merlin, don't scare me like that!" He chided, holding him at arm's length as if to examine him for injuries before abruptly seizing his hand and beginning to drag him in the direction of the piano. "Let's just go. Before you get any other ideas and try climbing after something else while I'm not looking!"