Cold dread pooled in his stomach as he watched Tom Riddle striding closer in the corner of his eyes, face revealing nothing except mild curiosity.

Harry closed his eyes for a second, and took a deep breath. Could Riddle be a ghost? But Voldemort was still very much alive, that much Harry was certain. Also, ghosts couldn't bump into living beings, like Riddle had before.

So the figure before him could either be a vision, or Tom Riddle himself, brought back to life by the mirror. Both things sounded equally appealing.

Harry straightened himself up. Vision or not, Riddle could still be defeated. Harry just had to try hard enough. MaybeRiddle was down, would the door simply unlock by itself, and this would turn out to be just another one of Voldemort's little survival games. Merlin knows he hadn't had enough of those already.

Harry readied himself to attack. He took his wand out as subtly as possible, and, without giving himself a second to hesitate, Harry sent a bright red curse flying across the room towards Riddle. It was a wordless Expelliarmus, the best nonverbal spell Harry could.

Riddle seemed to have expected something like this and deflected it without much difficulty or confusion, as Harry had hoped for. Harry's spell, however, seemed to kickstart the fight, and Riddle sent his own spell towards Harry with a smirk on his face. Harry ducked out of the way, not keen on finding out what it was. He cast more spells after that, slowly using more dangerous ones the longer they went on.

Books blasted in all directions, cupboards were being knocked over by their spells, and one move of Harry's sent a whole chandelier crashing down on Riddle, who rolled out of the way just in time to avoid most of it. Harry didn't know why exactly Riddle fought back, and he didn't particularly care either.

For all their ducking and deflecting, some spells still hit them. Harry, slowly running out of ideas, sent two spells right after each other, and Expelliarmus and an Aguamenti. Tom only managed to deflect the first one and was sprayed with water, soaking his clothes and hair, before drying himself a second later with a quick charm and an annoyed look on his face.

That one second, however, was all Harry needed, and he sprinted around a cupboard, hiding from Riddle's view. There, Harry leaned against the wood for just a second, breathing as quietly as he could, and thought of his next move. With a grim certainty, he darted out from behind the cupboard, wand fixated on Riddle, and yelled Sectumsempra.

For enemies. This fight had been going on for long enough.

Riddle's eyes were wide in surprise as he dove out of the way of the spell, missing him by mere moments, and Harry cursed. He ran forwards towards Riddle, shoving him down on the ground, and threw a few inexpert kicks and punches at him, not caring where they landed. Riddle managed to catch most of them, though he took one to the temple, Harry's fist aching.

He caught Harry's wrist just moments later, and spun Harry around, pinning him to the floor instead.

"You fight like a child, Harry. Though I have to admit, that last move was quite good. What kind of spell did you use there?"

Harry fought against his hold, trying to free his legs and kick him again, but Riddle kept all his weight firmly placed on Harry's limbs, restraining him expertly.

Riddle sighed, "Look, we can do this the hard or the easy way." He gave Harry's wrists one last press, and drew back, releasing Harry's arms and legs. Harry immediately went for his wand, but Riddle kicked it away. "No, none of that right now."

It landed a few steps away from Harry, far enough that it could've been at the other end of the room for all Harry cared. He wouldn't come that far with Riddle's wand fixed on him. "What do you want, Riddle?" Harry asked reluctantly and straightened up.

"Ah, so you do know my name. Say, why have I never seen you around the castle before?"

Harry rubbed his aching wrists, "What do you mean?"

"You are a Hogwarts student, right?" He looked at Harry, puzzled, "You've said so, before."

"Sure."

"So then what do you not understand?"

Harry stared at him for a few moments. Those questions seemed entirely unrealistic. No vision would ever let Harry go, willingly, to talk to him, and then ask weird questions like that. Could he be a ghost after all? Just a strange one, one that could touch people and use magic? No, that wasn't it. "What's today's date?"

Harry blurted the question out without much thought, much like he seemed to do many things that day. Riddle looked even more puzzled than before, and slowly said, "It's November 7th, 1944."

Oh god. Harry groaned as he running his hand through his hair in frustration. Suddenly, all the hints Harry had discovered made sense. This wasn't a vision after all. Like the intact furniture strewn all across the room, that he could've sworn had been broken before, or the head of the statue, missing before Harry had entered the mirror, but now sitting back in its place. But this was the biggest hint of them all. Could it really be that he went back in time ? Just by passing through some lousy, empty mirror, had he traveled through the grasp of time itself, something that people had been trying to achieve for centuries?

And why land here, fifty years in the past, in the same room as Tom Riddle , of all people? It seemed too outlandish to believe.

"Ahh, yes, now I remember," Harry deflected awkwardly after realizing he'd been quiet for too long. If he really had traveled back in time, it was crucial to not let Riddle find out. "Why you never saw me before, you asked? Well, I have to admit, I haven't been the most interesting person around. I am in Hufflepuff after all."

Harry could literally watch Riddle's curiosity dim in seconds, and forced down a victorious smile. He'd figured that Hufflepuff would be the most unappealing house to Riddle, and by putting himself in there, he had a good chance in getting away with this.

"In that case, what's your last name? I'm sorry to say that I've never seen your face among the Hufflepuff students, but I might just recognize your name."

Harry gulped and said the next best name that came to his mind. Normal people didn't hesitate while thinking of their last name. "It's Macmillian."

"Harry Macmillian, huh?" Riddle said, and Harry had to concentrate hard not to burst out laughing at how ridiculous that name sounded out of Riddle's mouth. "Nice to meet you."

To Harry's surprise, Riddle held out his hand towards him. Leave it to the mass murderer to politely introduce himself after a near-death fight. Well, perhaps it hadn't been that serious for Riddle. Harry reluctantly stretched out his hand and shook it.

It didn't feel nearly as cold as Harry remembered from the graveyard.

"If you'd excuse me now," Harry said, and walked over to his wand, picking it up from the ground, "I still have some things to do." He slowly backed away, and, without waiting for Riddle's answer, turned around and walked away towards the statue.

If Harry's theory was right, he wasn't able to open the door right now, in the past. hadn't been able to open the door before because he'd been in the past. Whatever the mirror had done to him, it was keeping him in the room until he was back in his own time. Well, that's what he hoped for.

When Harry glanced back, he saw Riddle standing there, watching him, not unlike a few minutes before. He fastened up his steps, and just hoped he wouldn't follow Harry to the mirror.

Ducking under the statue's arm, he glanced up at it again, and really, the head was sitting in its place. He ignored the eerie skull in the vitrine once more and rounded the corner where he remembered the mirror standing.

A strange feeling of relief filled him when he caught sight of the mirror, and he slowly stepped towards it. This really wasn't the time to be hesitating, Harry knew, but what if it didn't send him back into his own time, but yet a completely different one? How would he ever find home?

Harry shook his head. Everything was better than stay here, trapped inside a room with Tom Riddle. So he set foot into the mirror for the second time that day and again, coldness filled his body, taking away his breath. He stumbled breathlessly out of the other side of the mirror, gasping.

Immediately, he backed away from it and ran towards the exit. He rushed past the now headless statue, past the spot where Riddle had stood just moments ago, but now was nowhere to be seen. The door swung open as soon as Harry stepped close, and he crossed the threshold feeling like crying.

He slumped against a nearby wall, feeling the coldness seep through his thin shirt as he gasped for breath and watched the door vanish into thin air.