They had one month left before the end of terms. Summer started to show the tip of its nose with the temperature rise, along with the soothing scent of summer-break coming near.

Harry hadn't crossed Riddle again all spring long, and it was for the better. The Slytherin still threw some looks at him when he could, but Harry was mostly left alone like he wanted. However, the obedient silent treatment made Harry on guards for most of the time. Riddle wasn't the kind to easily step back, and his behaviour, although polite and civilized, was something that made him a bit paranoiac. However, their interaction became a blur as the days passed, and Harry continued to live his life like nothing happened between them.

Yawning like a beast, he resisted the urge to just lay down and put his head into his arms to take a quick nap. History class with professor Binns was very hard to follow, especially when the teacher's dreary voice was only repeating the same, boring stories about Goblin Rebellions, or when he was feeling particularly enthusiastic, the Giant wars. What he thought would be neat notes matching with Mr. Binns' thrilling tales ended up as doodles in the corner of his parchment.

Well, at least it wouldn't go to waste. The marvellous drawing of Dumbledore wearing rainbow-styled garments would look very funny in Gryffindor's common room. Sneering at the mental picture, he elbowed the boy sitting beside him. The blond jolted in his seat, abruptly emerging from his drowsiness.

"Huh, what?"

"What do you think?"

He picked up the parchment to show the proud sketch he'd enchanted so that the colours shone and created a wave of rainbow-ish shades moving from top to bottom. Darren blinked once, then twice, before he let out a gasp that woke the entire table row.

"Is that Dumbledore?! Circe's floppy tits, this is pure genius!"

"How good would it look above Gryffindor's fireplace? I'm sure Leopold will like it."

Darren's laugh earned him curious glances and he had to clasp a hand on his mouth to muffle the sound. Luckily, Mr. Binns didn't give a single care of what was happening in his class and unabashedly ignored them like he always did.

"You forget Dumbledore's their Head of House. He comes and go there regularly..."

"Oh, I'm perfectly aware."

"Wicked," Darren grinned. Then the Hufflepuff decided to do the same with a portrait of the headmaster. It turned out even more funny as he added several flies spinning around the old man. It was totally childish. Harry was perfectly conscious they were sixteen and nearly considered as adults, but he didn't give a crap about the blatant display of immaturity.

He didn't care at all if it was against Slytherin's principles. It was his way to be himself and nobody could change that. The strong friendship he had with Darren was born from naive pranks like this one and since then, the two had formed a solid bond even brothers didn't have. Sometimes, he wondered why Darren was put in Hufflepuff when he clearly had most of the Gryffindor's traits than a badger's.

"The Hat wanted me in the Lions den. But I kept begging it to place me with the Badgers instead. Why? Ha. Know that I abhor red above everything!" was what he said when Harry asked.

Lucky him. The damn dusty Hat turned a deaf ear when he begged it to be sorted in anything but the snakes pit.

When the magical bells echoed through the whole castle announcing lunch, all students left their classrooms to head to the Great Hall. Harry took his seat at the table opposite to his House's, a green stain among the field of yellow. Everyone greeted him with a pat on the shoulder and a wide grin at distance, and Harry sent back the same warmth in a natural way.

One of the reasons Harry loved Hufflepuff even though they were considered as leftovers: all prejudice flew above their heads and crashed into the farthest wall.

Friends of friends were friends, as the saying goes.

Sure, it was damn hard to earn their trust but once one had it, it became an unbreakable bond forged to life. Or so. Of course, every badgers wasn't inevitably loyal and trustworthy. There were exceptions in every House. But Harry felt at home whenever he came to interact with the yellow-robed students.

A scent of perfume invaded his senses before a beautiful brunet plopped on the empty seat beside him.

"Are you going to watch the match against Gryffindor?" asked the girl while serving herself some food from the giant plates.

Harry sighed, "Quidditch again..."

"It's a big event!" claimed Darren. "The only place where we can stand above the other Houses is in the air, and the lions seek revenge against us since their previous defeat. You have to come."

"Too bad, I'm taken this afternoon."

"With who?" Elena's curious eyes turned to him, beaming in anticipation of a big scoop.

"With what," Harry corrected and had to suppress a smirk when the excited glint withdrew from her face. "Sadly, I have homework to do and—"

"Harry," Darren chided. "Homework, really? Really?"

"Hey! This is an important part of the semester, or have you forgotten there are four weeks left before the finals?"

But Elena saw through his lies as soon as he delivered them on a silver plate, as well as Darren whose eyebrow had yet to lie back. "This is just an excuse, and you know it."

"Alright. I don't want to go watch the match, so what?"

"Why!"

"You know why. Every time you guys are against Gryffindor I'm always in the middle of a tug of war to choose which team I'm going to cheer for!"

"Well, you'll support ours today, won't you?"

Three heads spun towards the fourth person standing behind Harry. Blue eyes glowed with mirth and mocked amusement as he kept his stare intensely on Evans, waiting for the obvious response. Harry was rendered speechless. After several seconds of befuddlement, he looked at his friends, pointing at Leopold in a silent phrase.

'See?'

Raising a large eyebrow, Darren swelled out his chest, clear confrontation filling up his hazel orbs while glaring at the boy in red. "Of course not, he's going to cheer for us. Harry is ours!"

Undeterred, Leopold went on, "According to whom?"

"According to his best-friend-forever who took care of him since the beginning and won't allow others to use my boy only for him to support them in a match! You're going to loose anyway."

Indignation swept the amusement away in a flash. Leopold's voice rose to an octave.

"Hey! I took care of him too! And without my precious genius we would never have found out how good he is at Quidditch!"

"It doesn't matter. He will never be in the snakes team in any case, so what's the point?"

"I'll train him so that he can grow into a fine Seeker in the greatest national team of Britain!"

"Does he really want that? I don't think so."

"Guys..."

Harry sighed heavily at the stupidest argument he'd ever heard. It was like having two parents picking a fight to decide who will obtain the custody of their son. They were attracting the attention of more and more students all around them. Tired of their irrelevant quarrel, he stood up and joined the group of student making their way to the pitch with Elena walking next to him. Just before he reached the exit, a hand settled on his shoulder. He turned around, ready to snarl at his friends but was cut off by that dangerous tone he didn't think he would heard again so soon.

"I look forward for the match."

It was a low whisper, not loud enough for others to hear, but clear enough for him. Just that. Only these few words, and Riddle was already disappearing among the crowd before Harry could react. He stood there, frozen. What the hell? Riddle didn't like Quidditch. In fact, the boy abhorred the sport with all his soul. So why say something like this? And why to Harry, out of everyone else?

Still bemused, he went to the pitch with Elena. Harry sat among the Hufflepuffs and tried to ignore the smugness coming from Darren looking at him from the air. He wasn't going to cheer for any team, and will accept whatever the result is.

The crowd was particularly excited, judging by the deafening uproar even though the game hadn't started yet. It wasn't as loud as Slytherins versus Gryffindors matches, but still. Hufflepuffs were known for their attack power, making them near-invincible this year. They knew how to charge in the Slytherins before the snakes could resort to dirty tricks, thanks to Darren and his exceptional compatibility for chills and trouble. Something Harry was sadly strongly similar to despite himself.

The whistle announced the start of the match. Red and yellow scattered in all directions like a flock of birds at the sound of a shotgun. Darren got in position immediately. Harry saw him clap in the Seeker's hand before dashing to chase after the Quaffle. His friend looked great in the air. Harry had always thought so, even since the first time Darren had tried to ride a broom after a pompous Slytherin challenged him in first year.

He'd once shared the same passion as his best friend. In the past when he still had a family, Harry spend most of his days in the manor's pitch with his father. He remembered James claiming how talented he was at such a young age, how good he would be in a real team once he would attend Hogwarts. Harry had believed it. The day he'd been gifted a splendid golden snitch for his 6th birthday had been one of the most precious memories he had left from the past.

The rest was just blurry parts he couldn't or didn't want to relive again, as though not to trigger that horrendous pain he spent all those years soothing. Because Grindelwald came and made all the happiness he grew up with vanish, leaving Harry with nothing else but grief and ruination.

He will pay one day. He never told anyone about it- about his revenge. Harry had swore to himself to make the man suffer in the future, even if he had to turn into a criminal himself at the end.

"Harry…"

Selena shook him out of his grim thoughts. She was looking at something in front of them, and Harry realized it was Darren. Up there, the boy flew at a clearly lower speed than usual. His face looked extremely pale and even from afar, Harry could see the slight shaking of his friend's limbs.

Something was wrong.

Murmurs rose through the crowd who started pointing the Hufflepuff with curious gazes. When Darren stayed totally unmoving in the air, gazing at nothing and unconscious of the players racing around dangerously close, Harry stood up. Then, blood came out of his nose and ears, and that's when panic settled down throughout the pitch.

As the adults began to realize the seriousness of the situation, Harry watched with utter horror the bludger fly at hissing speed towards its unintended target.

"DARREN, DODGE!"

Too late.

All semblance of excitement left fell apart the moment the projectile made impact with a sickening sound echoing throughout the entire pitch. The hit blasted Darren off his broom, before the boy began a nose-down descent from the frightening height.

Harry moved instantly. Wand in hand, he directed a spell on the falling body. "ARRESTO MOMENTUM!"

It hit the target, but unfortunately Darren was already too close to the ground and still crashed into the sand. The screams around him increased, but Harry was only aware of the unmoving shape of his friend, the echo of his fall continuously buzzing in his head. The raven haired boy didn't waste time hurrying down to the pitch before the professors did. His fingers automatically searched for a pulse. He waited. And waited, and waited again as his own started to drop down, until he finally felt something.

He was alive.

Bleeding and broken, but alive, although barely.

"Darren… Darren! WAKE UP!"

Mrs Hooch was the first to join them. "Oh Merlin. Quick, get the Mediwitch here immediately! Mr Potter please, stand aside."

"No, wait- he has to wake up! He's dying, I can't…"

A hand gently grab him by the shoulder. It was Dumbledore, whose gaze seemed the most mortified Harry had ever seen. He let himself be pushed away as the Professors who weren't leading the students to their dorms gathered around Darren. Soon, the boy's body was entirely covered by the adults' back and Harry was left standing alone and frozen.

He didn't know what to do. He wanted to help. Darren was dying and- Oh Merlin he was dying! He was fine just earlier, so why did this… Why did Darren…?

Mrs Pears arrived to the pitch less than a minute after.

The world itself was quickly shrieking until it was nothing else than the small crowd circling the subject of Harry's mental turmoil. Everything else was just blurry shapes of objects and thoughts, leaving the boy with a blank mind devoid of reason. What was that fear swarming inside him like million of sharp worms piercing his guts? It was so familiar. So much horrific, murmuring words he didn't want to remember, images he didn't want to revive. Was that his fate? To see everyone he loved meet their end till he had no one but himself and the infinite despair he was slowly falling into?

He refused to go join the rest of the slytherins in the common room despite the Headmaster's multiple commands. He stayed glue to Darren, even when the mediwitch placed the boy under a spell to carry him to the hospital wing. They had cleaned up all the blood on his face and the limbs twisted in improbable positions had been properly put back in place. But Darren didn't look more alive than before. Purple lines made ways through the veins from the throat to the eyelids. Each of the staff members must have noticed since then, but none of them said anything about it, looking grim and keeping silent until Mrs Pears made the statement herself.

"Thirty-six broken bones. Brain concussion. All vital organs spared thankfully, but something is killing his system at a painfully slow pace. If he hadn't already passed out, we would have had to place him in an artificial coma"

"What is it?" Dumbledore asked, never leaving the frigid body of the Hufflepuff.

"Poison."

Harry jumped on his feet. The sudden movement caught their attention. "What are you saying? Poison? Darren was just fine before the match! He couldn't have-"

Her startled gaze told that she hasn't been aware of Harry's presence until now. She looked like she was going to shoo him away, but decided otherwise as she replied tensely.

"I don't know this poison specifically, Mr. Evans, but I am very familiar with the type it seem to be. From what I am aware, this is a poison which effects appear only hours after taking it."

He couldn't believe it.

"Who would want to…"

"It wouldn't be strange for someone to have a grudge against your friend, Harry," Dumbledore say calmly. "This kind of thing happens more often that you would think, but I must say this is the first time I witness such a horrific action within Hogwarts."

"Darren has no enemies."

But all of them ignored that claim. They were incline to strongly believe it's been an act of revenge or jealousy even when Darren's socialization history was all clean of any feud with anyone.

"It could be anything. Water, juice, even his toothbrush. Do you really have no idea what he could have taken without necessarily you or his friends knowing?"

He didn't know. He didn't know a thing and that ignorance was slowly beginning to get on his nerves. The thought of being useless even in this situation where his friend's life was at stake was like a painful blow straight to the chest. He felt like suffocating.

It was until he remembered one small detail at the last moment, making the wobbling world around him pause abruptly.

"He's anaemic. He takes regular medication since he's a kid…"

The more he thought about it, the more the slight 'possibility' started to turn into concrete conviction. Looking at the state Darren was in, purple lines pulsing into a shade of dark blue slowly becoming black, the deadly paleness of his face and the nearly non-existent breathing that made the whole body as still as a rock, it was no doubt poison was involved.

When?

Was it at that time when Darren took the potion in the library this morning? Or maybe in the evening yesterday just before dinner?

"I look forward for the match."

The match.

Since when Riddle was interested in the worthless, brutal, suicidal-like activity that was Quidditch? Especially when the sport involved Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors, not even his own House?

It was like something snapped inside. A nerve, a small line that was keeping his mind more or less clear until now – A straight, fine thread of reason that just broke when his brain in shock unravelled the mystery in a millisecond, maybe faster.

A surge of rage crawled up his veins and invaded his senses.

Riddle.

Riddle knew what was going to happen. Suddenly standing up from the vacant bed next to Darren's, Harry left the hospital wing under the adults' scrutiny without a word. There was only one place he could go- only one person he would obtain his answers from.

It didn't take much time to enter the dungeons. Hopefully, nobody had been standing in the corridors on his way, because they would have been greatly hit by the boy's magic which aura crackling around him with pure hatred, mad and unleashed.

He was going to kill Tom Riddle.