Author's Note: Originally I had this chapter combined with the next chapter, but it was over 4000 words, and I wasn't sure if that was too long. (I know I'm less likely to read something if the length seems overwhelming, and I certainly want people to read this). Feel free to share any thoughts regarding the length of chapters.

Rumors about Grindelwald flooded the halls as the students returned to their studies at Hogwarts. Nineteen forty-three had brought with it proclamations from the dark wizard himself, saying this new year would usher in a time of triumph for his cause; he felt they were not far off from making some great achievements. Of course, this was propaganda, but one could not help feeling uneasiness at Grindelwald's confidence.

In Defense Against the Dark Arts, however, their class approached a different matter, a different enemy. It was brought up by one of the Gryffindors they had class with.

"Professor? May I ask something a bit off topic?"

"I suppose, Mr. Sprott. What is your question?" answered Professor Merrythought.

"I wondered if you, or the wizarding world in general, knew how to use magic to stop a bomb, you know, like the muggles make." Professor Merrythought looked surprised, as did most of the others in the room—a few of Sprott's friends, less so, as they had already heard the story he was about to recount. "You see, while I was home, the Germans bombed a city not far from where I live. The muggles have that siren warning—we heard it, and I've never seen my parents cast shield charms as quickly as they did then. I know some people in that town, friends I had when I went to school before coming here. I asked if we could do anything to help. They said no, not only is it against the law, but we don't know how. I don't like feeling helpless. I want to take action whenever I can. That's why I thought I'd ask." The room remained silent for several moments before Professor Merrythought replied.

"Mr. Sprott, your concern for your friends is admirable, and I wish I could tell you that, in the event of another attack like that, you could be of some help, but the truth is," a sort of pained look came over her face, one that was tinged with fear, "those weapons are more powerful than magic." Whispers erupted in the room, the general consensus of the hushed voices being "That can't be". Sprott leaned back in his seat gloomily.

Charlotte felt the same fear as her classmates and Professor Merrythought, but less of the disbelief. In the past, she had already considered this. The Gryffindor boy's story made her skin turn to gooseflesh; it was a familiar scenario he described. It brought back thoughts she had worked hard to suppress.

Then Tom spoke up. "Professor, couldn't one slow the descent of the bomb, preventing it from exploding until the blast could be contained? That's possible with magic isn't it?"

His confidence in magic made Charlotte smile and strengthened her again against fearing muggles. Professor Merrythought smiled at him too. "Yes, Mr. Riddle, that is technically possible," she said. However, getting that close to one of these muggle explosives is highly inadvisable. It could mean death, instantly. And magic certainly cannot reverse death; that is another power greater than it."

Tom pursed his lips slightly. Looking at him, Charlotte noticed how it made his cheekbones more defined in an attractive way. She wished she wasn't so captivated by him and looked away, but not for long. She hadn't seen him in just over two weeks, so really it was that she was making up for lost time, no?

Sprott was now looking interested again. "So it's dangerous, but it's possible?" he asked eagerly.

"Well, yes," answered Professor Merrythought. "But, Mr. Sprott, what your parents told you, about that being illegal, is true, and you must remember that. No matter what I might think, as your teacher, I cannot advise you to break the law, which in this case concerns the Statute of Secrecy. And if you have any questions about that, I'm sure you can put your inquiry to Professor Binns in History of Magic. Here and now, you must learn about stunning, so…" And from there the class was a normal one.

Tom was seated with his so-called friends at dinner time, when Charlotte came and sat across from him, next to Lestrange, who, smirking, nudged Avery. Tom resented their enjoyment of teasing him; it was normal, but his relationship with her was not, and furthermore, he didn't like being reminded of his girlfriend, at least not by them, when it wasn't necessary to think about.

"Don't worry, I don't plan on staying here; I have no interest in your boys' talk," she said to the group. It was likely that another man, or a very different Tom Riddle who craved her company, would have told her to stay, but he was not such a one. He did not want her there. Even though the way her long hair fell around her bosom was attractive to look at—a thought that he furiously tried to subdue. She continued, speaking to only him now, "I just wanted to see if you could come see me in the common room later. I have something for you. So don't hide out in the library all evening," she said laughingly, as she stood to leave them.

...

He found her sitting in the common room on a sofa, without Valeria, he was pleased to see, and with a small gift-wrapped object next to her. Hopefully whatever it was would be of some use to him so he wouldn't be forced to keep it in his possession only for the sentimental value that one would expect it to have, and which he would need to give the appearance of attributing to it. Charlotte smiled as he sat down beside her. She handed him the gift.

"Here you are. Happy birthday," she said brightly and bit nervously. He wasn't entirely sure how she knew when his birthday was; it wasn't something he had ever made any fuss about. Although the following year, his seventeenth birthday, he did regard with importance, as that day would make him fully a wizard, a wizard of age, who didn't have to worry about the trace—and he would be able to Apparate, which was an exciting prospect.

"Thank you, Charlotte," he said, taking the package. "Although I told you, you didn't need to get me anything."

"You didn't have to get me anything either," she answered. He decided he might as well get it over with—the opening of the gift, and what he had resolved to do after. First slitting the paper down the center with magic, he pulled the wrapping aside to reveal a book decorated with opulent embellishments. "It's about Hogwarts, the four founders mostly." He opened the book and flipped through several pages, feeling mixed emotions at the fact that he was glad to have it, but how he had her to thank for it. "I wasn't sure if the library here had it,—they probably do, so maybe you've read it already—but I got it in Paris, so maybe not?"

"You went to Paris to get this?" That was dangerous. So, she felt that strongly about him, maybe even already loving him? This was good.

"Yes." She looked at him with eyes that definitely supported his supposition. "There's a magnificent wizarding library there; I thought they would be most likely to have something you hadn't read."

"Library?" he said inquisitively. How had she acquired it? Stolen it? Convinced them to give it to her permanently? This was a potentially interesting, and maybe exploitable, side of her character.

"Oh," she said with embarrassment. "Bookstore. I meant bookstore." He was disappointed. "Bibliothèque means library; librairie is bookstore. In English I sometimes get confused about them. But," she continued eagerly, trying to dismiss her mistake, "I had my mother show me how to personalize it, so that even if it's in the Hogwarts' library, your own copy will be nicer. It's also enchanted so that if a muggle looks at it the title is missing and the pages are blank; I thought that would be helpful." It was a wise precaution, but not one that was necessary. No one at the orphanage would dare go through his things; they would hardly go near him. "I know it would be better if you could read it in front of muggles as well, but I wanted to do the magic myself, and that's a bit more difficult."

He was certain he could have done it, but instead he said, "You would have needed a muggle book; I don't expect you have any of those."

"We have books that the muggles also know, but they think the fantastic elements in them are imagined. In particular, my father is rather fond of the Ancient Greeks," she laughed. "Although I don't know that any of our books of that category are in English."

"It's fine the way it is," he said with a smile, setting the book aside and moving closer to her. "I really do like it, very much."

"I'm so glad," Charlotte beamed.

"I love it," he said meaningfully as he leaned towards her. "And..." He lifted his hand and used two fingers to gesture for her to lean towards him too. As she did this, he brushed his fingers over her hair and settled his palm against her neck on the opposite side of her face to where he whispered to her. "I love you."

He dropped his hand and moved so he could see her. She glanced up at his face and then quickly down again.

"Pass me the book," she said. He got it for her slowly, trying to figure out what she was doing. Taking it from him, she opened it, but she didn't look at the page she was turning to; she was looking at him. She pointed to something and said, "I thought this was very interesting." At the same time, she raised the book to about eye level for both of them. He was caught completely off-guard when she kissed him. After which she softly said, "I love you too." He relaxed. With a slight detour, this had gone as he had planned.

Taking hold of the book and lowering it, he pretended to pretend that he was calmly acting as if nothing important had happened behind the book. "Yes, I'll enjoy reading this," he said. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Charlotte wasn't looking at him and that was fine.

"Hiding behind the book wasn't necessary though. That is, I doubt it disguised much." Although he wished that it could have. While it was only in his view that being romantic, with Charlotte or anyone, was undesirable for his reputation, he still didn't like the idea that people would think of him that way. That wasn't who he was. Of course, when it came to the way the general population of Hogwarts viewed him, most aspects of his personality were false. Still, one had to draw the line somewhere.

"Thanks for playing along anyway." She put the book into his hands and stood up. "Good night." She unabashedly kissed his cheek and he wished he hadn't made it seem like he was discouraging discretion, encouraging her to showcase their relationship to the entire common room. And he was obligated to return her "good night" no matter how he felt. After that, he opened the book and tried to read, if only to avoid the looks of anyone who might have seen.

Valeria was waiting eagerly for the details when Charlotte entered the dormitory. "Well? Did he like the book?" Then she noticed the odd look on her friend's face. "Are you alright? You didn't have a row or something did you? Did you break up?" she asked, becoming more concerned with each question.

"No, no, quite the opposite…" Charlotte whispered. "He—he said I love you."

Valeria became wide-eyed. "Oh my. That's… No wonder you're in such a state."

"I think I'm a bit in shock."

"So, what happened after he said it?"

"I—" she blushed as she went on, "suddenly felt the urge to kiss him, then I told him I loved him too. We said a few other things, then I said good night and came here. But the thing is, I don't know if I love him. To be honest, I don't know if I believe that he loves me. How well does he know me really?" The real concern she had underlying this was that, if she did love him, it would be very problematic given her family's expectations for her. She didn't feel she ought to bring this up to Valeria, however, with its implications of pureblood superiority. "Do you think I should talk to him about it?"

"If you feel like that's the best thing to do…" Valeria answered vaguely, which Charlotte found completely unhelpful.

"Of course I'd do it if it seemed like the best thing to do! But I don't know!" she snapped. "Sorry" followed immediately after. Valeria came and sat beside her.

"I feel partly responsible. Maybe you wouldn't have rushed into things if I hadn't been so… enthusiastic." She spoke seriously, trying to be of some comfort.

"You didn't force me into anything, and it's not like I needed you to talk me into dating him."

"And what about him? Does he make you feel… pressured?"

"No, not at all." Then, thinking about the I love you again, Charlotte continued, "And it's not his fault if that's the way he feels—now, rather than later. Or maybe he's as conflicted about all this as I am."

"Perhaps you should talk it over with him."

"I don't know… if I could."

"Well I can't say that's a very good sign."

"No, I mean, it's my issue to sort out. I just don't know how I feel about him. He hasn't done anything wrong, so…" She trailed off. Then started up again in an agitated, rushed manner, "You know this is probably because I was so certain I wasn't interested in him, and now I'm just annoyed I was mistaken."

"As mistakes go, this one's not too bad," Valeria laughed. Charlotte gave a small smile. All she wanted was for the doubt to go away, so that she could enjoy what seemed to be a most wonderful, ideal relationship.

The weeks that followed were mainly uneventful. The Daily Prophet reported minor Grindelwald related attacks across continental Europe, which was concerning, but something they had all gotten used to hearing about. For them, there was very little threat. Grindelwald had not yet brought his crusade to Britain, and, distanced from the impact of his actions, they were—not unsympathetic to the plight of the rest of their kind on the mainland—simply not as aware of the problem. Charlotte, and those who, like her, knew a great many people in countries where Grindelwald was actively "reforming" as he called it—a term that colored his deeds with the rosy tint of righteousness—felt differently. Charlotte had experienced it herself, finding out a friend's family member had been murdered, fearing for her father in his position of power, being in a city the day before it was attacked and thinking how lucky she was to be alive… Sometimes these memories would creep back into her consciousness, and she would feel like breaking down in tears.

Author's Note: The law forbidding wizards from interfering in the war was actually put in place for WWI, but I forgot that when I wrote this. There's nothing said for certain about whether the same law was present during the second war, but I'm going with the idea that it was, because that's more dramatic.

I feel like the ending of this chapter is not the best, but as I said before, it was originally combined with the next one.

Another thing, I'm kind of at a loss as to understanding how Riddle found the Chamber of Secrets, given that the entrance is in a girls' bathroom. I considered maybe he spoke to the basilisk and it told him how to get in, but then why would it have taken him five years to figure it out, if the snake was the one to start things? Then I thought maybe someone mentioned in passing the snakes on the sink, as shown in the movie. Turns out, in the book, the snake (there's only one) is far more subtle, so that seemed less likely. However, I did not realize this issue until after I had written this little scene to show how he figured it out.

"Deleted Scene"

Valeria came bouncing up to them, something to say ready to burst forth from her.
"I was just coming out of our favorite bathroom, on the first floor—I'll explain," she added fluidly, with a glance at Tom's confused look. "And I saw my former favorite quidditch captain snogging a certain—"
"Val, do you need to tell me this now?" Charlotte interrupted, tilting her head jerkily towards Tom, who was looking on with what she perceived to be discomfort, a bit of disgust, and the subtlest hint of amusement if one looked especially closely.
"Oh, well.. No. No, I suppose not," Valeria said awkwardly. "But let me clarify about the bathroom thing, because out of context that makes me sound like a complete nutter—I mean who has a favorite bathroom, right?" She turned to Tom. "There are snakes on the sink handles," she said simply. "So we joke that, as Slytherins, it's our favorite."
"Really it's just like all the others, and, actually, it's also the favorite moping spot of that Ravenclaw girl who can't seem to stop crying."
"To be fair to her, she gets made fun of a lot, I think," said Valeria.
"Well the constant crying is not helping put an end to that," Charlotte answered.
"No, it most definitely is not," Valeria agreed with a frown. "I wonder if I could enchant some new glasses for her and increase her popularity... Probably isn't worth the trouble though." She walked away from them pondering this. Turning back briefly, she called out, "See you later!" and carried on her way.