Hermione froze as several rather large and burly Slytherin older years loomed over them, with folded arms and aggressive postures.

Her hand itched to creep to her wand.

"Well, what do we have here?" Flint gave a nasty sort of grin. "Lost little lions, separated from their pride. You should growl less loudly when you're outside the snake pit."

Hermione gathered her courage.

"We're looking for Harry, and last we heard he was with you. Is he still?" She gave a polite smile.

"Worried about him?" Montague said. "Do you think the evil Slytherins did something?"

There was some laughter, and not exactly the nice kind.

"Have you?" Ron demanded, bluntly – Hermione sort of wanted to kick him, and squeezed his hand. Ron was one of the kindest, most honest and loyal people she'd ever met, but sometimes he could just be so unbelievably obtuse.

"Maybe we did. Maybe we didn't. How did you find our common room? Potter tell you, did he?"

This was not going well. Even Ron seemed to be starting to pick up on the growing tension.

"He didn't have to," the redhead said, watching the Slytherins more carefully now, chin jutting up. "So, is he here or not? We'll let you get back to your party."

"We just wanted to make sure that he was okay," Hermione said. "He hates Halloween."

Flint looked about to take another bullish step forward, when one of the other Slytherins caught hold of his arm. A woman.

A look passed between them.

"Potter's not here," Flint said. "He left a while back."

And yet he hadn't returned to Gryffindor, by all accounts. Or had they just missed each other? Was this a coincidence or was something wrong?

"Do you know where he went?"

"Oh, so you do think we did something to him." Montague gave an unnerving grin. Even the girl who had stopped Flint seemed to be growing increasingly hostile. Aggressive.

"We didn't mean it like that! Bloody hell," Ron snapped, fists clenched. "Though now I'm wondering-"

She stomped on his foot. Hard.

She wondered if this was what happened when one was sorted into a house that everybody immediately hated and thought the worst of – house unity had never been worse after the 'Heir of Slytherin' last year.

Things escalated, and snakes bit and spat venom in an aggressive defence, forever expecting an attack. And lions growled and pounced on the certainty that such things would never change, and were justified by repeated experience.

Hermione swallowed, counting heads and considering their chances as she took a small step back.

"Now you're wondering?" the Slytherin girl said coldly. "Please, finish that statement. Or are you a coward?"

Ron's jaw was tight too, his eyes ablaze with a furious, stressed sort of mistrust and suspicion. She could practically see the explosion building; could only imagine how much Ron was dying to lash out at some surrogate for Tom Riddle, when cursing the Dark Lord hardly seemed a viable option.

She could see the accusation of cowardice sparking like a lit flame to a trail of petrol.

She tried frantically to think.

Ron's chin jutted up, and –

"Attempted diplomacy is not the same as cowardice. Or would you call me a coward too?" Harry's voice rang out, blessedly, from behind them. She turned, watching as he walked towards them. His gaze was entirely fixed on the Slytherins. "Would you call the Dark Lord a coward too, for not flat-out murdering me when he had the chance?"

The tone was clear, but had something soft to it, something calm and different to what she had seen in him before. Or maybe it was his stance which was different. She couldn't pinpoint what exactly it was, considering he wasn't glaring or even standing threateningly, but the hairs on the back of her neck were standing on end…

"I thought you left, Potter," Flint muttered.

Eyebrows arched in a manner alarmingly reminiscent of said Dark Lord.

"I came back. Just in time too, apparently."

She couldn't believe the vibe of discomfort coming off from one of the younger Slytherins lurking near the door, behind the slightly tipsy older years.

"Did you forget something?" The girl countered, watching him carefully.

"No, I heard a commotion and had to see for myself." Harry smiled. "Some type of misunderstanding, right? I mean, I don't know how many of you want some kind of truce with me, but I thought it went without saying that my friends are off-limits. So, you know, obviously this is just a case of crossed wires and wrong impressions, isn't it?"

Flint didn't look like he wanted a truce. He looked like he wanted to go for Harry's throat.

The silence stretched a moment.

"A misunderstanding," Montague muttered. "Yes. Terrible things, misunderstandings. It would be a terrible misunderstanding if lots of Gryffindors started realizing where our common room was too, wouldn't it?"

Harry's head tilted in an almost reptilian fashion.

"Maybe we should all try and avoid further misunderstandings."

"None of us are going to say anything about where your common room is," Hermione added quickly, for clarification. Slowly, the tension started to…not disappear, but diffuse. For now. Spark blown out, though the gas remained.

Ron gave a terse nod. The Slytherins were looking at Harry, though. Harry offered up another smile.

"Well, that's settled then. Enjoy the rest of your party, for real this time."

All sense of that strange…aura…whatever Harry had been giving off, was gone. He looked as unassuming as he always did – small, with dishevelled hair and eyes bright behind tatty glasses.

And suddenly she couldn't help but wonder how things would have worked out if Harry had been in Slytherin from the start. .


"Harry, what can I do for you?"

Lupin looked surprised to see him as Harry hovered outside of his door.

He'd gone down to the dungeons again, instead of chasing down Pettigrew – or at least the dot of Pettigrew – on the map, and the what ifs still left a bad taste in his mouth.

Maybe it had been a blip. Maybe it hadn't.

But Sirius had said that Pettigrew took the form of a rat.

A rat, missing a toe, and Harry could have kicked himself for not seeing it before. Scabbers, inconveniently enough, was nowhere to be seen considering Crookshanks had been terrorizing him all year so far.

After returning to the Gryffindor Common Room, he'd spent the rest of the night going through the photo album Hagrid had given him; tracing over the photos, noting how different Sirius looked back then compared to the wreck he was now.

"Dumbledore said you might be able to teach me the Patronus Charm…after what happened on the pitch…" he started.

Lupin's expression cleared, and he smiled. A tired smile, but a smile nonetheless.

"I'd be happy to, though I will need a little time to set the lessons up."

Harry gave an eager nod.
"After Christmas then, maybe?" he suggested. He honestly wasn't sure he physically had time before then, with all of his other lessons and Wood's attempts to kill him with Quidditch Practice. Especially after the last match.

"After Christmas, then," Lupin agreed. Harry hesitated, and Lupin must have caught something in his expression.

"What is it?"

"You were friends with my father, weren't you? Dumbledore mentioned it," he said. Lupin's face seemed to soften entirely, even whilst it remained shadowed and haggard.

"Yes. Yes, I – James was – he was one of my best friends, in fact. I knew your mother too. An uncommonly kind woman, Lily…"

Harry wetted his lips.

"You knew Sirius Black too, didn't you?"

Lupin appeared startled for a moment.

"What makes you say that?"

"Nothing – I mean, I just knew that they were friends at Hogwarts too. Him and my dad."

The man's face relaxed.

"Yes, I knew him," he said shortly. "Or at least I thought I did."

"And Peter Pettigrew," Harry insisted, taking a step closer. For a second, Lupin almost seemed wary once more, before his head bowed and he sighed softly.

"Yes, Peter too. It was the four of us – your father, Black, Peter and I." A broken sort of smile twitched the man's lips, before he seemed to shove it away just as quickly.

Harry sat down in front of Lupin's desk, utterly rapt.

"What were they like?" he asked.

He spent the next ten minutes listening to stories; of pranks, and how his father would always be trying to impress his mother, but how they didn't get together until seventh year until she deemed his father's head suitably deflated. About how his mother was kind, and a talented witch, friends with everyone.

It was…nice, to hear about them, to learn about them though he couldn't help but note how carefully Remus was trying to avoid mentioning Sirius or Pettigrew.

But maybe that wasn't the only thing bothering him.

"If you were so close to my father…how come I've never met you before?"

Lupin froze. Harry's stomach dropped, hands clenching in his lap. Lupin suddenly looked more old and tired than Harry had ever seen him.

"There were blood wards around your residence, and Dumbledore thought it best to give you a normal childhood. Away from the magical world, and all that had happened. The Death Eaters were still being rounded up, it wasn't safe."

"You never even visited," Harry said, voice a little hollow. "You didn't introduce yourself when I did join the Wizarding World either. You could have written me a letter, anything!"

Something shifted in Remus' expression.

"I did write to you. I never received any reply."

Harry stared, and his insides twisted.

"You…you wrote to me? I never got them." He wanted desperately to believe that Lupin was telling him the truth, and he could certainly believe that if mail had arrived to him from the Wizarding World that the Dursleys would go out of their way to ensure that he never received it, but…

They stared at each other.

"Mr Riddle," Lupin was obviously treading carefully now, "implied that…the situation with your childhood may not have been…ideal, considering the seeming lack of concern from your relatives this summer."

This time, it was Harry who froze. His expression went blank, calm, and he could and would have hit Tom were he there.

"Tom is somewhat biased on the topic of muggles," he gave a small smile, heart hammering fast. "If something was wrong, Dumbledore wouldn't have let me go back there, would he?"

He didn't know what made him say it but…he couldn't talk about it. What difference did it make if it did? Because Dumbledore had sent him back, just like he'd sent Tom back to the Orphanage despite how he knew Tom had expressed desires to stay at Hogwarts in the holidays.

He could see the lines of tension ease from Lupin's face. He trusted Dumbledore. Everyone seemed to trust Dumbledore's words and explanations, more than they'd ever trust his. It was always the same, and adults were useless.

"No," Lupin murmured, watching him, "I don't suppose he would…"

Harry's throat felt thick. It was definitely time to change the subject.

"Pettigrew, he's dead now, isn't he?"

Lupin's gaze only sharpened.

"Yes."

"But there was never a trial, for Black? Why not?"

"I-at the time things were-it was obvious that Black-no one thought that-the evidence was-where are you going with this, Harry?"

"I'm just curious, Professor," Harry replied. "He sold my mum and dad out to Voldemort. I want to know what he was like, why he would do that. Why do people think that it was him?"

"There was a charm, used to hide your parents," Lupin's voice was distracted, "it required a secret Keeper-"

"And Black was the secret keeper."

Lupin nodded. Harry wetted his lips.

"So why did it take Voldemort a year to attack? Surely Black would have told him immediately, if he was a Death Eater."

"Harry, where is this coming from?" Lupin asked, standing up. "If you know something…"

Harry stood up too.

"I guess I'm just trying to figure out why anyone would betray their best friend like that. It doesn't make sense."

Remus' expression cleared once more, though something lingered.

"Betrayal never makes sense. If it didn't come from those we least suspected, it would not be a betrayal in the first place," the man said quietly. "I wish I had more answers for you, Harry."

Harry forced a smile.

"It's fine. Thank you for telling me about mum and dad."

"Any time." Lupin's smile was warmer in turn. "My door is always open to you."


Horcruxes were never supposed to be this much trouble.

Lord Voldemort had been observing the events in Britain carefully, from the moment he realized the possibilities of what might be happening.

He'd never expected it to escalate to this.

Of course, the diary held a large part of his soul and he had fully anticipated being able to use the shard as a weapon if necessary….but this was something else.

As was Harry Potter.

"My lord," Alecto sank to her knees before him, face strained. "I have brought you what you asked for."

It was an infuriating feeling, to be so dependent on his own followers, unable to do anything for himself despite the magnitude of his power.

But that would change soon enough.

If his sixteen year old incarnation could find a body and success, then with greater experience and knowledge, so could he.

And then the whole world would fall to his feet.

It was only a matter of time.


"How did your meeting with the Slytherins go?" Tom asked.

He was sitting in Tom's office, and hell knew why he was doing that when he had so many other things he should probably doing. Practising Occlumency, practising spells, getting ahead on his homework or even just spending time with his friends.

But this was important. Besides, for all of his flaws – Tom had gone to significant effort to make time for this in his schedule. If they weren't equally busy, then Tom had even more on his plate than Harry himself did.

A holiday couldn't come sooner, really; they both looked exhausted.

But Harry couldn't afford to relax and take a ho#liday just yet, so at least there was a satisfaction to the feeling of growing stronger every day.

"It was…alright," he replied. "I mean, it probably could have gone better, but all things considered…"

"I'm pleased to hear it," Tom said, with a small smile. "I'm sure you did just fine. I'm sorry to have missed it."

He could only imagine the Slytherin Heir would be delighted that he might be making friends among the potential dark. Still, for all he was certain of manipulation, it was quite relaxing just sitting here.

It was idle, or seemingly as close as either of them ever got to idle anymore.

Tom's pride was as dangerous a thing as it was gratifying.

"Have you discovered anymore about Black?" he asked. "You said you were looking into it."

Tom's head tilted marginally.

"Not yet. I have a team trying to track the man down though – I wouldn't see harm come to my favourite Gryffindor, would I?"

Harry pinned a smile to his lips and snorted.

"Yeah, well, keep me updated, will you?" he leaned in a little closer to the man, only to find himself under rather close scrutiny. He willed his expression to remain even, innocent.

Forced himself not to look away, even if staring back seemed like a liquid transference of everything he was thinking and feeling. Tom had pounced time the last time he felt Harry was being evasive, so maybe he had to work on having nerves of steel instead.

He had never been more grateful for the fact that his palms didn't sweat when he was nervous. Still.

"Will you sign my Hogsmeade slip?" he changed the subject. "I mean, the Dursleys didn't, and you're the closest thing I have to a…well, I don't want to say parental consent but…"

Damn it. Tom's eyes were still searing into him – normally guardianship, or acknowledgement of how they had come, appeased Tom. At least, Harry had always thought it did, considering how Tom had behaved in the Hospital Wing, when Harry catered to him then instead of Dumbledore.

He really wanted to swallow.

"I'll see what I can do. Though I doubt anyone is going to be eager to let you roam around outside the safety of the castle walls, with Black on the loose," Tom murmured.

Well, that was inconvenient considering how much he really needed to talk to Sirius. He'd kept an eye out for Pettigrew on the map ever since yesterday, but he couldn't do it too much without it coming across as suspicious.

He was certain Tom would 'borrow' the map if he knew Harry had it. Same with his cloak.

"Thanks. Is this is a staring competition or do you just never blink?" he blurted out. "I swear, you're like a snake."

Tom's lips twitched in something suspiciously like amusement.

"People blink a lot when they're nervous. Are you nervous, Harry?"

Oh, this was not going well. Maybe he'd got cocky, thinking he could get away with asking about Sirius. He was half convinced Tom already knew everything, and was just toying with him.

"I have a mass murderer trying to kill me and finish the job he started when he sent my parents to be brutally murdered," he huffed. "It's not nerves, it's self-preservation."

Tom finally blinked.

"As I said, I'll do what I can about you going to Hogsmeade with your friends. It would be a pity if you missed out on the experience. I'm sure something can be done to keep an eye on you safely during your visit. I'll have a chat with our esteemed Headmaster."

"Thanks," Harry said again.

"And how are your Occlumency lessons coming along?"

Harry's gaze snapped back, heart pounding.

"You know about that?"

"You'd be surprised by the things I know, child."

He wondered if Tom meant that to sound ominous, or if he just suffered from a guilty conscience to think it did. He cleared his throat.

"So, if I do get to go to Hogsmeade, does that mean I get the weekend off from Bella?"

Tom looked like he was barely refraining from rolling his eyes.


Whilst it was…interesting to see Harry's skills at manipulation growing, along with his consequent awareness of himself and his surroundings…Tom wasn't sure if he should be amused or not by Harry's seeming confidence in manipulating him.

At the beginning of the summer, Harry had been an open book in many accounts. Now, things were a little more complex. The lines between both of their manipulations and the truths wound tight among the omissions and lies, were growing blurred. Twisted up.

It was difficult to tell how much of Harry's affections were genuine, and how much the boy played into the roles of their growing dynamic as a way of getting what he wanted.

Then again, he could hardly hold such lack of emotional purity against his charge, when by all definitions Harry had simply started doing the exact same thing that he did. Mimicking his behaviour, and reflecting his own tricks back at him – whether consciously or not.

It was fascinating.

Fascinating, but something to keep an eye on. He had no intention of being played by a thirteen year old boy, and it was more than obvious that Harry was hiding something.

But maybe it was a test to see what his Gryffindor did with it.

When a rather familiar black dog met Harry on Hogsmeade weekend, he was more than ready.

Perhaps everyone needed a reminder on who they were dealing with, and of the consequences of trying to deceive a Dark Lord.


A/N: I am terrible, I know. I'd say I'm sorry but...well, next chapter will be up soon enough? And should be better for the fact its set up properly? :P Midpoint climax of third year! Woo. You'll miss these days later in the story ;)

PS: HAPPY BIRTHDAY! ;) You know who you are. Hope that the chapter was satisfactory, and that you have an awesome day.