Cold sweat ran down Harry's face as he made his way back to the mirror.

Really, he had reckoned that meeting Riddle would be overwhelming, it would have been stupid not to. But nothing could've prepared him for the sheer intensity in Riddle's eyes when he looked at Harry, and the question he would ask. He should have foreseen it, really, that Riddle would go and investigate his cover story. He was lucky that Riddle just accepted the random story Harry had made up on the spot. Stupid, stupid.

He'd had time to prepare himself last week, both physically and mentally, but it still hadn't been enough. He had still made those stupid mistakes, getting caught up in the moment and blurting out something he had no explanation for. It was why he had left then, in hopes it wouldn't be too abrupt.,

'At least he'd been friendly enough,' Harry looked behind his shoulders if Riddle was watching, and then stepped through the mirror. It hadn't been that bad for a second meeting, he thought, shuddering at the coldness of the mirror, and turned to make his way to the front of the room, 'especially considering I've tried to attack him the first time around.'

Now he'd just have to keep it up.

"Are you alright, Harry?"

Harry startled, his fork falling out of his hand and onto the plate with a clatter, and looked up, "Huh?"

Hermione glanced at him worriedly over the table, setting her own fork and knife down onto the plate. "You haven't said a single thing since we sat down for dinner, Harry. Is there something on your mind?"

Harry nearly laughed out loud at that. What should he say to her? 'No, it's just that I've been talking to the murder of my parents about an hour ago, what about you?' Instead, he brought out the best smile he could muster and said, "No, it's nothing, Hermione, I'm just a bit tired."

Honestly, with all the lying he's been doing nowadays, he could almost understand why the hat had wanted to put him in Slytherin .

Hermione tentatively smiled back and said, "Well, then you better go to bed early today, instead of playing those silly games with Ron."

That made Ron look up from his plate and replied, "Hey! Those games aren't silly! They're fun, right Harry?"

This time, Harry didn't have to fake his smile, "Yeah, they are. But still, I might really go to bed early today, okay?"

"'Su'e, I'll 'ust play one with Seamus inst'd. What do you say, mate?" Ron said between two mouthfuls and looked over at Seamus, who joined the conversation happily. They started talking about the new version of chess that came out a few weeks ago, before changing over to how Jones, the captain of the Harpies has lost a tooth in last weeks match.

Hermione just rolled her eyes and pushed her plate out of the way. Then, she conjured a small book out of nowhere and, after shooting Harry a quick smile, started reading it in right there, in the middle of the Great Hall.

Harry grinned back, his exhaustion suddenly feeling much more bearable even if he couldn't tell his friends its reason. With a much lighter head, he picked up his fork and continued eating.

He would need enough energy for tomorrow, after all.

Harry stood in front of the mirror, thinking.

It was only midday since Harry had set out soon after lunch, leaving his friends behind in the Great Hall with the excuse of studying. He felt much better now, after getting a good night's sleep yesterday, trying to listen to Hermione for once. Her advice wasn't all that bad sometimes.

Harry only wished he could ask her about this, he thought as he ran his hand along the mirror's frame. She would definitely have something to say about this. She would know what the consequences of going back in time are, especially after what she'd done in the third year with that time turner. Harry could bet she had informed herself properly before using it. The thought almost made him smile.

Hermione would know exactly what to say to him in this situation, and Harry just wanted to give in and ask her. She would know if killing Riddle, someone who would bring so much death and destruction, was the right thing to do.

But, even without asking, Harry was aware that she would disapprove. She'd tell him that it was too dangerous to meddle with time and to abandon the mirror and his mission at once, and to never come back.

And that was exactly why he couldn't tell her.

Because how could he, knowing that this opportunity existed, just walk away and leave it be? How could he just leave when he knew how many people could be saved with this, no matter what it would mean for Harry, no matter if the time-paradox would end up killing him.

How could he just walk away?

So he stepped forward and through the mirror frame, shivering as he walked out of its other end. It was getting easier every time he did this, now that he no longer fought the mirror's hold. Last time, he had tried out his theory, but even though he'd wished with all his might to go back to his last year, picturing Dumbledore's army and all that they've done in this room, he still landed in the forties. So it was the mirror's magic who controlled where it brought Harry, and not him.

He just wondered why the mirror would want him to go to the forties.

Maybe it was meant to be this way so that Harry could go back to the past and get rid of Riddle? Would that mean magic itself supported Harry, hating Riddle for all that he'd done for the Wizarding World? Could magic really feel such things? He didn't know.

Harry slowly stepped away from the mirror and walked around a big bedframe that was leaned a big shelf of sorts, and towards the left end of the room.

Finding Riddle had taken ages last time, and if Harry hadn't stumbled into his general direction and seen the light burning, he could've searched the room for days without finding him. But now, fortunately, he knew to some extent where it was, and it only took a few missed turns and a little searching to find the place.

The first thing he noticed when stepping closer was that the light wasn't on.

He slowly approached the cabinet which stood between him and the place and glanced out carefully with his wand gripped tight in his hand. He almost expected to see Riddle there, sitting in the armchair and waiting to ambush Harry in the dark with cold eyes and a curse on his lips.

What he found instead was a deserted place with an equally empty armchair.

He let out a sigh of relief and lowered his wand. Breathing deeply and trying to calm his anxiously beating heart, Harry stepped out behind the cabinet.

Honestly, it had been a surprise he had survived yesterday. Harry's wand had always been within reach, in case Riddle suddenly decided he'd grown bored of him. It would've only been expected, really, with the way Voldemort had always treated him.

Harry stepped closer to the coffee table and noticed an empty cup and the newspaper standing on it. He frowned.

Really, this place was surprisingly cozy. If he would've guessed how a young Voldemort would furnish his place, he would have thought there to be a lot of metal, darkness, and stone.

Never in his life would he have thought of this warm place, with a soft carpet and furniture made out of dark oak. The lamp illuminated the whole place with a flick of Harry's wand wasn't cold and sterile as he would have expected, but warm and bright. It hovered there above the coffee table, attached to nothing but air. The place had a distinct magical feeling about itself, like Hogwarts itself did.

Shaking his head, Harry made a beeline for the bookshelf which separated the couch and study table. He had noticed it yesterday already but was glad he could take a closer look at it, now that Riddle wasn't here.

Stepping closer to it, Harry noticed something odd; a lot of the books he'd seen yesterday were gone. The most notable absence was that of a black, thick book he'd noticed last time, that had a drawing of the Grim Reaper on its cover. He had almost chuckled out loud when he noticed it, because even if this place didn't at all fit in with the image Harry had created of Riddle, at least the books matched it.

But now, when he looked through the books, it seemed as if Riddle had deliberately sorted them out. The only ones remaining semed to be either old school books or harmless, second-hand ones Riddle must've bought in his first few years at Hogwarts.

Harry sighed and walked away from the shelf, sinking down on the couch. Leaning his head over the back of the sofa, he glanced up at the far-away ceiling. Maybe he shouldn't have come here so early. It made sense for Riddle to not yet be here, but it was still disappointing. Harry just hoped he would appear sometime later, or else the whole trip would be pointless.

Unable to stay seated there, waiting for Riddle to arrive, Harry stood up again. It shouldn't be hard to find something to do in here, right?

An hour later, after wandering through the room once more, still unsure whether or not it had an end, Harry sat down on the couch and set a newfound kettle and a box filled with tea leaves down onto the coffee table.

When Riddle entered the space half an hour later, Harry was just pouring in a cup of tea, grieving the absence of sugar. In the corner of his eyes, he saw Riddle literally freeze, and Harry smugly noticed that he looked just as surprised as when he first stumbled into Harry last week.

"Good afternoon," Harry said nicely, "You want some tea?"

Riddle stared at him for a few more seconds before clearing his throat and saying, "Good afternoon, Harry. What are you doing?"

"Ah, I got here early and decided to look around a bit. There's some really interesting stuff around here, you know? I found some tea leaves, a kettle and a cup, and thought 'Why not make tea?'." He glanced up at Riddle and forced up a nice smile, "So, you want some?"

Riddle looked at the box with tealeaves, suspicious, "I'd rather not. If you wish to poison yourself with unknown tea, then do it."

Harry shrugged and took a sip of the cup, "Suit yourself."

Riddle walked over, putting his books down onto the small coffee table, and settled into the armchair. "I didn't think you'd return so quickly. What brought this about?"

"Ah, well, I'm staying here in Hogwarts for the next few weeks and got bored this morning. Normally I don't like to stay in the castle, 'cause I can't go to school here but since I found this room it's been really fun."

"Why aren't you attending classes? Wouldn't make sense, staying where Professor Merrythought is?"

"Auntie doesn't want me to go to her lessons. And anyway, I've always been schooled from home, so it's not that big of a deal." He paused for a second, searching for another subject. His eyes fell down to the books Riddle had set down onto the coffee table, "You study here?"

"Yes, normally, but now that you're here I can't quite do that," Riddle gave a quiet chuckle, and Harry moved his arm behind the arm-rest, out of Riddle's sight, fumbling for his wand.

Harry could kill him right now. Riddle would be off guard, now that they've met twice and nothing more happened. "Why not? I don't mind."

"Yes, but it is no problem. I am ahead in most subjects and do the homework in advance." Riddle said and Harry leaned slightly forward. It would be so easy. Just a quick Petrificus Totalus or an Avada Kedavra, even though that would be his first time using the spell, Harry was sure he would succeed. It would be so easy.

So why was he hesitating?

Riddle was a future mass murderer, hell, from what Dumbledore had told Harry a few weeks ago in one of their lessons, he already was one. He had killed his father, his grandparents, and Myrtle, and would kill countless others in the future. It would be right to kill him. He didn't deserve to live.

Yet, he hesitated.

Harry settled back in his seat, putting the wand back. Not yet, he thought. He wasn't ready. "Oh, so you're that smart." he answered after a few seconds too long, "Maybe I should take my homework with me next time, see if you can help me."

Riddle smiled at him, "Maybe you should. Though I'm not sure how much of a help I would be."

"Oh, I'm sure you'd be able to help me. My teachers have long since given up on me."

Riddle politely chuckled and changed the subject, "So, Harry what do you think of last week's events? It was common talk at the Slytherin table, but I've never really heard an outsider's perspective."

Harry gulped. He had no idea what Riddle was talking about. Damn you, Professor Binns, for only ever speaking of the Goblin Wars. Harry had no clue what had been going on in the 1940s, let alone this specific week in November.

Trying not to sound too desperate, Harry said "Er, I don't really know what you're speaking about. Lots of things have happened lately, and I've not really been up to date with all of it."

Riddle looked surprised, "I mean the fact that Grindelwald crossed Great Britain's borders a few days ago."

Harry cursed inside his mind. That was too big of an event to just not know about. Merlin, maybe he should've researched the 1940's. "Er, what do you mean what I think? I obviously don't like it."

"Yes, I thought you'd say that." Riddle said, sounding thoughtful, "See, the Slytherins can't seem to decide if Grindelwald's arrival is a good thing or not. Not many dare to openly support him, however."

"Well, for me his politics are dangerous," Harry said, grasping for straws, "I'm a half-blood after all."

Riddle suddenly sat up straight, "You are?"

"Yes? You got a problem with that?" 'Isn't he a half-blood as well?'

"No, no, not at all, I'm just not used to it."

'Bullshit' Harry thought, but before he could decide whether or not he should ask him about his own blood status, Riddle had already moved on.

"So, what are your favorite subjects?" It seemed like he had given up on trying to talk about politics and Harry breathed out in relief, settling back in his seat.

"Defense, I guess."

Riddle settled back well and smiled, speaking in a tone Harry couldn't quite place, "Mine as well. Professor Merrythought is a very skilled teacher."

Harry forced up an enthusiastic smile, "Yeah, she is! She teaches me from time to time, during holidays."

Riddle smiled as well and said, "Might you be interested in a duel sometime then? You were really skilled in that fight we had on our first meeting."

Harry flinched, smile falling from his face, "Er," he stuttered. Merlin, he had completely forgotten about that.

Riddle just looked at him expectantly.

"Sure, er, we can do that. But uhm, about that first meeting…" he said slowly, his hand going back to the wand hidden in his sleeve. "Sorry about attacking you all of the sudden. I wasn't thinking straight."

Riddle said nothing.

Harry nervously continued, fiddling with his wand, "Y'see it was my first time in here, and I touched some stuff that I shouldn't have," he paused, "And er, I might have hallucinated a bit?"

It sounded like a question, and Harry was unsure whether or not Riddle would buy it. He sat there tensely, ready to jump out of his seat and fight if he needed to. But then Riddle sighed and eyed the teabags and kettle standing on the coffee table, "That really doesn't surprise me as much as it should."

Harry gave a nervous chuckle, "Yeah. I'm sorry I didn't bring it up before, it was a bit awkward," he paused, "I'll bring some proper tea with me next time, if you want, as an apology?"

Riddle glanced at him, startled, "You don't have to. It is quite alright. Besides," he said, gesturing to the tea box, "If you're still feeling healthy, then it seems we have perfectly fine tea here," then, almost as if teasing, "You're not hallucinating right now, are you, Harry?"

Harry felt blood rush to his face, for some reason, "I'm fine, thanks!"

Riddle chuckled and continued, "Though maybe you have acquired immunity to suspicious substances by now, judging from your history?"

"I'll just bring some next time, yeah?" he said scowling, and then, tentatively, "Is there some kind of tea you want?"

"Flavours, you mean?" Riddle looked caught off guard, "That's difficult. I mean I do like chamomile, but for this setting, a good Earl Grey would perhaps be more fitting…"

He rambled on, and as Harry sat there, listening to Riddle rant about different tea flavors, he realized something with sinking horror;

The man before him was decisively different from the Voldemort Harry knew.

And that would make killing him much more difficult.