I said I had the next chapter ready, didn't I?

This is an important chapter for me lol. We're out of October now and you can tell that stuff's...stirring!

Hehehehe

As October faded away, so did my painfully embarrassing sniffles.

Madam Blishen's face lightened each day that I had shown up for pepper-up, and by the time I stopped going to the hospital wing, she'd taken me aside and told me quite kindly that she'd keep a stock of pepper-up potion for the sick and allergic under a desk in the common rooms come the fall.

It made me a little sick to realize that the stock my friends used to raid for me was something caused by me myself 50 years before.

The nervous energy that had vibrated within each student in Hogwarts about the Hogsmeade trip had dissipated by the following week. Most of the older students were already retreating back to their hide-outs in the library or the small nooks where quiet studying was possible. Even Fawley was bringing books down to the common room.

"My father would skin me like one of his prized animals and hang me outside the manor if I bring home anything less than an Acceptable." He told me nervously, hair already ruffled beyond recognition.

Even though the thrill of a Hogsmeade visit had faded away by the time I was in my fifth year, this particular visit had struck in me an uneasiness that lodged in my throat and refused to budge no matter how much I swallowed. I knew it was due to the familiar but younger face I'd spotted. An old…acquaintance, someone who had once saved my life possibly, who had helped feed me and my friends, who I had fought alongside of…it was bound to bring back troublesome issues.

I was silly to think I could only cross paths with people I knew with no consequence.

I wondered if perhaps asking Dumbledore about his brother would help ease some of the tension in my chest. After all, it was his brother – he would know him best.

But then again –

"Don't suppose my brother spoke of me."

I didn't know much about Aberforth's relationship with Dumbledore. He never used to speak about him, only his sister. Ariana's story still haunted me. Despite Aberforth's description of her and the serene girl who resided in the portrait in the room of requirement, I could never quite forget the jeers of the Death Eaters I eavesdropped on – mocking the Dumbledore family and what had happened to them…all because of Rita Skeeter.

Harry had seemed to know something about Aberforth, but then again…I could never ask him.

In the end, I decided to let the matter rest. It was one thing to pester Dumbledore about it if there was an emergency. There was none in the moment. I may have asked him about it in the strange limbo we had been stuck in, but the man and I were both dead. What would it have mattered then?

No, for the moment there was no emergency.

Even Tom wasn't Voldemort yet.

I stopped dead at that thought.

Even Tom wasn't Voldemort yet? What was wrong with me? Since when did I start calling him Tom?

I knew the answer of course. I had seen the dark haired wizard around a lot since the Hogsmeade trip. He seemed to be somehow too close for comfort all the time, and yet just circling me, never coming close enough to garner any attention from his peers.

I had taken to call him Tom to annoy him; just to see what he would do. If his name coming from me offended him enough, he might slip, do something…enough that I might justify attacking him. Or that somehow Dumbledore would eliminate him once and for all.

I shook my head.

I couldn't think such rubbish. Riddle had been Voldemort since he was born. That's all there was to it.

The Hogsmeade weekend past, the next thing that had the castle in joyous jitters was the Halloween feast. I was one of them. I longed for the delectable treats that would deck the tables during the feast, the kitchens going all out. The only thing that came close to it was the Christmas feast but even that I only got to eat rarely, when Pam or I insisted to stay at the Castle. It felt awful to leave our mother alone during Christmas.

The thought made another pang lace through my heart.

I quickly turned my mind away from the images my mind dredged up of my family - flimsy though they were, to the rumors that surrounded the castle. The ghosts would bring about their friends and put on a show.

Personally, I didn't see the crow about it. What was the point of Ghosts doing stereotypical ghost things during a ghostly holiday? I was dead as well, wasn't I? Should I jump upon the tables and reenact how I died? Could I have Riddle point his wand at me, murmur the words delicately and watch me die again? Should I show how the last words of my friends, my family, and my comrades echoed in the aftershock of my demise?

I felt lost.

"Are you feeling alright Rose?"

I looked up from the cup of hot chocolate Dumbledore had poured out. His keen blue eyes were fixed on me over the rim of his own cup.

I opened my mouth, a perfunctory 'yes' ready on my tongue but I couldn't bring myself to say it. Instead, I gulped. "I don't know," I whispered, looking down.

There was a pause as Dumbledore set his cup down. His brilliant amber studded robes glinted in the firelight of his office. "May I be allowed to say – that you've been through a devastating ordeal…you, perhaps…need some time for yourself."

I only kicked my feet out, glumly sliding down further into the chair. I was wrong before. I wasn't completely alone. I had Dumbledore here. It might not be the one that I had known but it was Albus Dumbledore for Merlin's sake. If I couldn't trust him, I could trust no one. I could always talk to him.

But now that I sat in front of the wizard, I could muster nothing.

"I wish I knew what to tell you." I said.

"My dear, you've been given a chance to live again – you say by me; have you thought it might be simply to have another shot at life?"

I looked up shocked. What was he saying? He told me to kill Voldemort, and if I did he would help me get back to my own life. Why the hell was he telling me to give life another shot?

"I don't want a do-over. I'm not supposed to have a do-over. I wasn't unhappy with my life, professor. I was happy. I had my family, my friends…people I loved. You were the one who told me to," I broke off, taking a deep breath when I remembered his warning to not tell him anything that might jeopardize the future. "I came here with a purpose. You might not remember it but I do. And I still haven't been able to do it – I – it makes me feel useless…I might never go back to my life."

Dumbledore stared.

"Once…once I felt that I was burdened with great purpose. I shared my ambitions with people who I thought might help me with that purpose. I lost many of my valued and precious people over it. Worse still, I lost time with my loved ones over this purpose."

My mind flickered back to Aberforth, to Ariana.

I didn't say anything.

"What helped you?" I asked finally.

I looked up to see Dumbledore stare deep into the fire, as if conjuring memories from the depths of the flame itself. Somewhere in the back of his office, the phoenix Fawkes crooned a sad melody.

"Distraction," Professor Dumbledore answered quietly.

With nothing better to do, I took Dumbledore's advice to heart.

I allowed the life I had now – as Rose Revel, Slytherin fifth year in 1940s – to swallow me whole. I fell into the patterns my friends in this life had. I laughed at the jokes Alphard and Fawley made. I listened to Lila as she talked of our peers and how she looked forward to a life free from her parents one day. I watched Eileen Prince meticulously scribble in her books, trying to curb the bile I felt rising in my throat at the thought of her son doing the same. I learnt to curl my hair like the girls in that time.

I grabbed more and more time in the library – under the ruse of studying. It wasn't as much to catch up on theory that was years outdated than the one I was taught. But I needed somewhere where Riddle and his cronies couldn't follow. Strangely, Riddle never allowed his apprentice Death Eaters to follow him into the library. He would pass by, glances nonchalant but he was always last to leave.

I stopped bothering him or calling him Riddle.

I never knew if he took it for fear or stress of the exams or just disinterest because his cronies seemed to have sensed the distinct coolness between us. They were also getting blatantly abrasive. I'd caught the much bigger boys cursing children; sneak into the Restricted Sections, muttering as they eyed a particular student.

None of those times Riddle was present.

How in the world was I supposed to get him this way?

However, the relentless way I studied, making notes and making sure I never messed up in classes worked somehow with Slughorn. One class after, he made his way over, protruding belly wobbling and moustache wiggling, delivering with all the joy of a man getting candy that I was invited to the Slug Club party in November.

Over his shoulder, I met Riddle's midnight eyes.

"Thank you professor, I'm honored." I said with a sweet smile.

"Hagrid...? What are you doing?"

The larger boy jumped about a meter in the air, whipping about to stare at me. His dark eyes were wide opened - scared – and even perhaps...a little guilty.

Oh dear...

"What are you doing?" I asked again.

Hagrid lumbered out and away from the small hallway down which I'd caught him skulking on the way to the Slytherin common rooms. "I was doing nothin'." He mumbled. He clasped large hands at his front, looking down so he wouldn't have to meet my eyes.

Fat chance with that; considering he was towering over me and his 'looking down' allowed me to look straight into his skittish eyes all the more clearly.

"Come on," I whined. "Tell me what you're up to."

"Nothin'...I wasn't doing anythin'...ok, I was just coming back from teh woods."

I stared at him, studying him carefully. There were little scratches shining on his chubby cheeks and his hair was bedraggled...it did seem that he had been in the forest indeed. But then, how did he end up here?

"How do you sneak in and out? And how did you get here?" I demanded.

Hagrid shrugged. "The ghosts help me." He mumbled before looking about nervously. "Listen, Rose...err, I should really go. I'll see you around, bye!"

He didn't wait for me to say anything, simply taking off. I frowned after him before peering down the narrow corridor. What could he possibly be doing, lurking there? It was too small for him and I doubted the ghosts would go way out of their way to get Hagrid back into the castles.

They hadn't done that in my time.

As the days passed by, it was almost as if I had forgotten the real reason why I was there in the place. I attended classes, ate my meals, studied in the library or on the grounds with Lila and the others and at night slept with my dreams flooded with nightmares of twisting snakes, burning red eyes emblazoning into my brain or flashing green lights that were nowhere near painless. Instead, each flash of light made me scream as if I was under the Cruciatus Curse. The nights in which sleep left me barren, thoughts swirled of too black eyes mingling with fiery green ones, of twinkling blue eyes and soft smiles and touches that were lost somewhere in time and death.

To get those back, I would have to get my hands bloody. At times like these, I shuddered and changed sides on the chilled bed.

In the meantime, Halloween arrived with the ghosts' death day re-enactments succeeding in making students laugh, cry or cringe in equal amounts. I soaked in the warm bath in the girls' bathroom of the dorms for a while – promising Lila I would be at supper soon.

I tied my tie around my neck, hurrying down the hallways to get to the Great Hall when I heard it.

I stopped, tilting my head with a frown as the soft sounds echoed back to me in the silent corridor. Choking, gasping little sobs of a young girl had my steps starting again, quickening until I was standing in front of a girls' lavatory. I squinted at it, sure that this was the haunted bathroom on the second floor. I had never had much chance of interacting with a lot of ghosts, with the exception of Nick and Helena and almost everyone avoided this bathroom due to the unpleasant ghost inside.

Moaning Myrtle was known for skulking around the school though, and it wasn't that rare to find her staring moodily at you from a toilet in any of the bathrooms as you tried to wash your face or tucked a stray hair away.

I hesitated for a second, pushing the door open slowly. The loud creak made me wince.

The grey stone inside of the bathroom looked completely different to how it had been in my time. The white marble basins gleamed, the mirrors free of cracks. There was neither mildew, nor smell of rot and mold in the air. The pitter-patter of constant dripping water was absent as well.

No, this time the sounds were less annoying, if whimpers and sobs were your thing. I tracked the sounds to the farthest toilet, the wooden door shut and barring the anguished person inside.

I pursed my lips before shrugging. My hand rose, and I landed a soft barrage of knocks on the door. The sniffles stopped abruptly, followed by a loud and stuttering gasp.

"Who is it?" The girl asked from inside, muffled and thick voiced.

"Um…are you ok in there? I heard crying."

There was silence.

"Why don't you open the door?" I tried again.

"No! I – I'm fine. Thank you, but please leave me alone."

"I don't think it would be nice if I leave you here alone like this." I argued.

"I'm not coming out. You're all just going to laugh at me."

That; made my eyebrows shoot upwards. "It's just me here and I promise you I won't laugh at you. Come on out now."

A beat passed. "You promise? It's just you?"

"Yes."

Another beat later, the door bolt scraped back. I stepped away as the door swung open inwards, revealing a young girl inside. Thick oily black hair was parted straight down, divided into two pigtails. Heavy black glasses perched on her nose, slipping down from the thin bridge as she rubbed at her face with a handkerchief. The girl's face was blotchy from the crying and she eyed me with sinking eyes.

"You're a Slytherin!" She burst out suddenly, eyes sparking behind her glasses and voice rising into a screech. "You brought Olive Hornby with you, didn't you?"

I brought my hands up quickly, in case she shut the door in my face again. "No! I swear that's not it. I'm in Slytherin yes, but I'm not friends with Olive Hornby. I promised you, remember?"

"You're not?"

I shook my head earnestly.

The girl took a small, reluctant step into the light and my first instinct was to fall back in shock as I was stood face to face with the same face that would stare and sulk at us in the bathrooms.

Moaning Myrtle…in the flesh…alive and breathing…kicking and crying…by all that was beloved by Merlin…

"My name in Rose Revel," I introduced myself quickly to distract both her and me.

"Myrtle Warren,"

I quelled my urge to poke at her to see if my finger would push through her.

"So…what happened?" I asked instead. "Did Olive do something to you?"

Alive but still Moaning, Myrtle launched into a small rant about how Olive had bullied her. Starting from calling her names and slurs, she had proceeded to stealing the Ravenclaw's notes, her books and even her wand before casting the jelly legs curse on her. Terrified, the girl had snuck in here where she'd waited for the curse to wear off.

No one had come to her rescue; no one had stood up to Olive for her.

I glared at my shoes as I listened until Myrtle spoke about how she could hear Hornby getting other Slytherin into chanting 'mudblood' at her. Her soft, pained voice reminded me of Neville – jeered at for being slow in potions by Snape and the other Slytherin students.

"Myrtle, Olive is a bitch." I spat, seething at the girl who gasped – again – at my use of the ill word, her hands coming up to cover her mouth.

"That's a bad word. You just said a bad word." She whispered, looking at me with something like mingled alarm and awe in her face.

I raised an eyebrow at her. "Do you disagree?"

Myrtle lowered her hand, considering before lowering her head. A small giggle escaped her, surprising me. "No, I think you're right."

"I think you're pretty and sweet, Myrtle." I returned kindly. Perhaps it didn't ring true now, when she was a lanky student, but there was no telling. She might just grow into her looks…if she had had the chance to grow at all.

Myrtle giggled again, giving me a toothy smile.

"Do you think you're okay to come outside now?"

"Olive will just find me again."

"Tell Professor Dumbledore…tell Dippet."

Myrtle looked sullen again. "They wouldn't believe me. She's a Hornby…she's a Prefect…nobody would back me up."

"That was before you met me." I said stubbornly. "Listen, Hornby is a rich, spoiled brat who is entitled as all hell. She is jealous and insecure because she's not as smart as a Ravenclaw like you. That's why she bullies kids. That's all she has going for her."

"Interesting prognosis."

Myrtle and I both jumped, whirling about to look at who had joined us without us noticing. There, by the basins, with his hands clasped behind his back and head tilted to the side stood Riddle. He had a slight smile on his face that was entirely discomfiting and his eyes were iridescent in the candlelight of the bathroom. He painted a hauntingly exquisite picture.

For that, I didn't blame Myrtle when she sucked in a loud, unsteady breath.

Riddle's eyes flickered between me and Myrtle, amusement still sparkling on his face. Unbidden, I drew a little closer to Myrtle. In my time, it had become common knowledge that Voldemort was the one who had been responsible for her death. He was responsible for mine as well. I didn't know what getting closer to the younger girl would do. If he wanted, Riddle could definitely attack. But two against one was still an odd I found more comforting.

"Tom!" Myrtle chose that moment to speak. "Hello, we didn't see you come in."

Riddle's eyes settled on Myrtle, smile widening. That creepy look in them dissipated, instead replaced with the same friendliness that he had looked at me with in the orphanage the first day.

"Forgive me for startling you, Miss. I only heard conversation that made me check things out."

I rolled my eyes at the stupidest excuse he could've mustered.

"I believe you heard me about Olive." I asked loudly.

Riddle continued to look at Myrtle. "Fear not, Miss Myrtle. Olive Hornby will be dealt with as needed. I will personally see to it. Now then – it's late and time for dinner. Please go to the Great Hall immediately."

Myrtle continued to pant up at Tom, slinking past him to vanish. Wow, without even a goodbye to me…

I shook my head, looking at Riddle whose eyes had now landed on me. His smile was gone, although I could still detect remnants of his amusement in those eyes.

"You heard conversation coming from the girls' bathroom," I began slowly, "and decided to check it out. Two girls talking in a girls' lavatory – of course, I believe you thought we were spying for Grindelwald, didn't you? Shoddy excuse, Riddle, even for you," I couldn't help the snicker that escaped me then.

"I noticed your absence during dinner. As a prefect, I am responsible for the safety of all students, so yes, hearing conversation from a bathroom warranted me to check." He had deadpanned at my giggles, completely stone-faced. I couldn't read him at all in that moment but if I had to guess – he wasn't as annoyed as he wanted me to believe.

I hummed, looking down my robe sleeve and picking at invisible lint. "I suppose that's why you had Abraxas Malfoy ask questions around about me…for my safety?"

If Riddle was surprised that I knew about his spy, he didn't show it. Aside from a quirked eyebrow, he only tilted his head back imperiously. "I find you a mystery, Miss Revel. Surely you respect the fact that a person showing up here like you did – is suspicious."

Our stares suspended, dark gazes trained on each other with both parties refusing to back down. I refused to surrender and lower my eyes first. Something about the way he stood, the way he regarded me blistered my ego, poking at my pride. I remembered his high cold voice the night of my demise. While Tom Riddle's own voice was the deep timbre of a well-developing wizard, it didn't stop me from being provoked.

Only this time, I was going to provoke him as well.

I walked towards him. Each step I took, taking me closer to Riddle was like an elastic band, stretching a tension that existed between us from the day we'd met. It tightened and loosened, depending on who was giving away a hand in their game. This time, I was determined to hold all the cards.

When I stopped, I was barely brushing his chest – too close for comfort, too close for safety. But wildly, in that moment with his eyes peering down into mine, I didn't feel that he would even touch his wand. His jaw was tight, I could see his throat muscles working and that only made me smirk – roiling with courage that my Gryffindor heart roared at.

"Why don't you," I whispered, "take it up with Dumbledore?"

Riddle studied me, his eyes lingering on my twisted lips before tracking back up. He could try to read my mind, in that moment I wanted him to, just to see him try. I was invincible, inches from him, where his breath hit my forehead and the cold mask of indifference was near to cracking.

Riddle scoffed quietly at me, possibly understanding what I had realized a moment ago.

He didn't move back, didn't take back the personal space I had invaded. He continued to stand and stare down at me, as if it didn't bug him that I was close enough to touch him.

"If it's any consolation, I find you a mystery too." I said slowly, unwillingly.

It wasn't a complete lie. Voldemort in my time had been easy to understand. He was a power hungry, immortality craving overlord; who had lost himself to darkness and couldn't be redeemed. Tom Riddle didn't feel like…anything. He was ambitious yes, but people admired that about him. He was frighteningly intelligent, and it almost put Hermione Granger to shame in a way that had me wondering why and what it took to push this man to become Voldemort. His reasons, the more I stayed and watched, became obscure.

But then again…did his reasons…really matter to me?

"Is that what you wish for?" Riddle's voice drew my attention back to him. He somehow looked sombre, pleasant. There was no mirth in his face; nothing that I could find that was mocking me. "Do you wish to unravel me?"

It was my turn to scoff, to be offended at the way he said it, as if I would want to…care to…

"You're not that hard to understand, Riddle."

I did brush by him then, my hand catching the buttons of his shirt as I moved past him – leaving him standing in the girls' bathroom as if he hadn't just invaded my space as much as I had his.

It wasn't until much later at night, with my hands clasped under my head and eyes on the tapestry over the bed as I pondered over our exchange that I sat up quickly, urgently.

Riddle hadn't been looking for me, I realised. He had possibly, been looking for the Chamber of Secrets. In our second year, it had spread like wildfire that Hagrid was innocent, that it was Voldemort who had opened the damn place up before and then used another student to. It wasn't until later that we found out it was Ginny – and Harry was a hero again.

Riddle had begun his search and I had just left him there. For all I knew, he could've entered the Chamber once I was gone.

Stupid…stupid…stupid!

But no, reasons would have to wait now…

At least Dumbledore had given me an idea, and if today was an example…

I would distract Riddle…and when it was time…I would kill him before he killed anyone…and framed anyone else.

Dun Dun DUN!

And that's Halloween for you, with creeping around in bathrooms and shady corridors included!

Do let me know what you thought of this chapter!

How do you like Ro? What do you think of Tom? Their dynamic? Is it good? Believable? ETC ETC!

Until next time peeps!