Happy New Year to my beautiful readers! How are you all? Has the new year been treating you well? I hope everything is amazing and everyone is safe!


Reviews:

MyBeewing - You, my dear, have completely nailed Tom on the head. (And he isn't too happy about it lol). But you are absolutely right about the dynamic between Ro and Tom right now. I'm curious to know what you think about their interactions in this chapter.

iRedeem - I have seen many people compare the Trio as a mixture of the three other houses compiled in Gryffindor. I wrote Ro to completely and wholly represent Gryffindor. Think about her are being the polar opposite of Harry (who was a slytherin in Gryffindor by choice.) Ro is a Gryffindor placed in Slytherin. Hope you like this chapter!


A/N: Just to mention that some of the classes will have undergone changes to keep with the customs of the "times". You'll see what I mean ;)


As usual, the Slytherin common room was that strange blend of cold and warm. A roaring green fire blazed in the grate closest to me, my feet up on one of the small tables at the sitting booths arranged around the room; a gesture that had Lila raising an eyebrow and Eileen Prince cast a surreptitious glance around the room.

I hadn't lowered my legs.

The first week back at Hogwarts had already gone by in the blink of an eye. Now, Hogwarts tended to do that; make time go by quick while you're busy studying, with friends or perhaps plotting the end of a Dark Lord. Here of course, I felt the passage of time almost as if it was something physically brushing me by.

That one week had seen me completely ingrained in this little circle. The bonds had strengthened almost with no hiccups, aside from here and there when I had caught a few glances and pursed lips thrown my way when I would do something mildly forward for these times. Most of them came from Eileen, however, so I wasn't too bothered.

After all, she had given birth to Snape who never liked anything in the world so why concern myself?

It wasn't like I was blatantly trying not to fit in. It just didn't seem to matter to the other students. They were almost all purebloods and while, weirdly enough, there was only light and partial hostility between the rest of the houses with Slytherin, bigotry wasn't something easily diluted. It had only gained further foothold as legacies deepened – like death eaters.

I just had to live with it.


As per Dippet's wishes, Dumbledore had seen to my new enrollment into the school. During one nightly conversations, he'd talked of the process, talking about how he'd put me down for Care of Magical Creatures and Ancient Runes. With a twinkle in his eye, he'd simply said not everything required magic, when I'd asked how he had known.

While he had mentioned once that I wasn't supposed to speak of anything vital of the future, I decided it was safe to tell him of the way, Hermione had helped me study the subject. I'd taken it because a great aunt had advised me on future prospects and curse breaking had looked the most appealing. Language elective was a requirement for that.

Hagrid, though not the most competent was still the most fun Magical Creature expert I'd known and it was a given to pick that one. Only this time, the teachers were Silvanus Kettleburn and Beryl Babbling.

Naturally, when I'd stepped into the classes, Riddle was there, tucked away in one corner but sticking out like he always did, commanding the atmosphere in that horrible cold, stoic presence he radiated. Even in the paddock where the creatures were kept, I could feel the prickle of his being, in a much too unsafe distance, even with Alphard and Lila's warmth next to me.

I'd thought he'd take something more complicated, like Arithmancy. Or maybe even Divination, seeing as how he'd been so intent on that one prophecy.

Apparently, those weren't his forte, but Fawley had whispered about how it was unlikely he didn't already know the subjects. There were even rumors that Riddle took Alchemy lessons in secret.

Speaking of special classes…

There was one particular class every other weekend that was perhaps the most appalling one.

A domestic magical arts class…

It was humiliating to follow Lila into a big classroom, a frizzy haired witch, who seemed so like Hermione it could perhaps explain her magical heritage that I had to keep my eyes from bugging.

She had begun by explain what housekeeping was, much to my shock and unmasked lack of comprehension.

"It's required. She teaches us what we need to know to keep house once we graduate."

Why would there be classes to keep house?

Were students really expected to marry and move out…having children, their own lives as soon as they left Hogwarts?

The only relief from the bitterness of regressive ideology was that it wasn't only girls in the class. It was everybody, boys included. Seeing Riddle stand at one side of the room, with his stupid handsome face calm but his jaw too stiff to be perfectly composed, was perfectly hilarious. When he glanced my way, I shifted my gaze immediately. Merlin, I hope he doesn't think I'm thinking of him during a homely life class.

Naturally, that night's meeting had prologue with my whining, only for Dumbledore to calmly, maybe even painstakingly explain that my time was different and that learning a domestic life's technicalities didn't just apply to marriage.

It hadn't been enough for the pout on my mouth to disappear but I grinned and just decided to bear it. The faster I got rid of Voldemort and got to go back to my own time, the better.

I couldn't bring myself to feel guilty about contemplating the murder of the wizard who had killed me and countless others.


The Monday next had a simple schedule, allowing me to visit the library for the first time.

I walked past the librarian, a somber looking witch in the chair rather than the pinched Madam Pince.

I gripped the side of my robes in a tight fist, passing familiar corners and aisles where once I'd sat with my own people, my friends, friends I would give anything to have with me right about now. I stopped at my favorite corner, leaning against the shelf to examine the rays of pale sunlight filtering in through the red and white shards of the window pane. It had been perfect, the light acting like a natural lamp without hitting my eyes and warming my back.

Of course, Pince had never been too approving of my dragging chairs out and into strange positions but what kind of Hogwarts student would I be if I cared about what Irma Pince had to say?

A brief glimpse of coal black in my periphery made me turn my head.


Riddle swept by one shelf over, visible through the wood.

It seemed that my body had become kind of tuned to his presence. While not completely appreciative, I was also not worried about it. It made sense for me to carry fear into this resurrection.

And while Voldemort had been terrifying, Tom Riddle was much more so. With his beautiful face, charming words, calm and quiet manner, he was the perfect manipulator and he didn't even need magic to do half of what he could if he just opened his mouth and batted his cool black eyes.

This prickle of his presence made it easier to know when he was close around. It could also be helpful if he ever tried to attack.

I straightened, slinking behind the shelving to get over to his aisle.

Surely he wouldn't be very suspicious of the new homeschooled girl in the library. One would think I needed all the help I could get. I could even get a peek at what he was reading, just in case it was something deadly.

I glanced around, selecting a book closest to me before walking around the aisles, pretending as if I was browsing.

Putting on my best engrossed expression, I flipped open the book randomly and slowly walked around the shelves, pretending that I was just ambling about while reading. I headed slowly towards where I could see the dark head bowed before pausing just so, turning a page just in case he was looking.

When I was at his aisle, the prickle intensified but I swallowed past the obstructive feeling in my throat, turning the corner as slowly as I could, walking towards where Riddle sat.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw his shoulders tense as I drew closer. He was definitely aware of the approach and even as I moved further in, he began to casually flick through the scrolls and close the covers of the books.

I made another show of pausing to turn the page before my eyes flickered up to him.

"Hello Riddle," I kept it simple.

His eyes met mine with a nod. "Miss Revel, making good use of the library, I see."

"It's there for a reason, isn't it?"

Riddle hummed, his eyes raking over me for a second before looking back up. "How are you faring in your classes?"

I rolled my eyes. "You really shouldn't pretend to care, you know." I closed the book, placing it on the table.

"I have told you this before; our…acquaintance at the orphanage has led the professors to believe that I am somewhat responsible for you. It will not do to let them down."

"Well, if you can pretend to care, I'm sure you can pretend to help without actually doing so."

Riddle was silent, looking straight into my eyes with an unfathomable look in his eyes. "And if I wish to help?"

I smiled sweetly, annoyingly before leaning over his chair; something that caused him to cringe away imperceptibly. "What are you working on anyway?"

Riddle moved his hand, placing it on the first scroll. "It's something extra that I find engaging."

"So, it's secret?"

"No."

I gritted my teeth internally. He was so calm about this. How was I going to get any information like this?

"Come on," I put on my best petulant tone. "Is it weird potions? Curses? Hidden tunnels…I'm sure this school has some."

Riddle's sharp glance had me straightening immediately, in case he had his other hand near his wand. "Didn't you say you wanted to help me?"

"With your studies yes, and I would hope you take them seriously as even though you have done well with your magic, you might just fail the theory. Perhaps you would like to pick up a book that actually helps." His retort was quick, and confusing.

"What?" I blinked, caught off guard.

Something shifted in his eyes, the irritation mingling with hints of amusement. He glanced to where I'd left the book and I followed his gaze.

"Madam Lovegood's Compendium of Attraction and Seduction Magic; potions, spells and charms," He read out loud, glancing back at my nonplussed expression - a very deep inflection on the word 'seduction' that had me flushing. "A most interesting read, I'm sure. However, I wonder how much it will help you with your OWLs, unless you have some very intriguing ideas."

I glared at him, making his lips twitch with barely a ghost of a smirk as he rose to his feet, collecting his things.

"Do return the book to its place when you're done. Have a pleasant evening, Miss Revel."

I balled my fists as he brushed past me, not turning to watch him leave.


I made it a point to avoid Riddle after the library incident.

It didn't seem like he minded much, as he remained entombed within his little posse of beginner death eaters, while I hung out more and more with Lila, Fawley and Alphard. Sometimes, Eileen Prince would tag along.

In classes in which we were partners, we both would avert ourselves away from each other, only barely speaking when absolutely necessary. He had taken to putting on infuriating smirks when our eyes would unwittingly meet, almost as if he could still see Madam Lovegood's compendium in my hands.

It made me want to throw my bottle of ink at him.

It was Friday's Transfiguration when Tom Riddle and I spoke to each other again.

He had arrived before me again, my steps lazy as I reluctantly plopped down next to him, setting my bag between us as something of a barrier. The prickle that accompanied his presence now focused on my right temple.

"Ro!" I turned my head to look to where Fawley waved his hand just in my periphery.

I glanced once at Dumbledore's empty desk then raised my eyebrows at him.

"We have Quidditch tryouts today after classes!" He whispered shouted, almost shoving over Alphard in his enthusiasm.

It took me a second to wrap my head around his words before my eyes widened, almost bugging. Quidditch Tryouts were today? That meant a significant amount of time had passed, if memory served me correctly. It was a scary idea that I had been in a completely different time long enough for Quidditch tryouts to begin but I couldn't stop the bubbling glee from coming to the surface.

"That's amazing! Do we know any players?" I could help but ask.

"I'm going to try out, even Lila wants to. Are you in?"

I shrugged. "I play but I'm not really professional level. I'd come to cheer you on though."

Fawley grimaced but shot me a thumb up nonetheless, turning to face the front when Dumbledore strode in.

I turned to face the professor, who took a moment to cast an inquisitive and twinkling eye upon his students then settled behind his desk, allowing us a minute or two to become studious and serious while he arranged his notes.

My mind wandered naturally, thinking about the upcoming try outs and how they used to be in my past…or rather the future.


Mud splattered, buckle kneed and groaning, Harry and Ron made their way into the Common room much later than expected. I drew my legs closer to myself in the armchair I'd been occupying as they noticed me and moved over.

"Hermione already went to bed," I offered in lieu of a greeting, grinning when both boys exhaled sighs of relief.

"Thank Merlin," Ron was the first to speak. "She'd start nagging; banging on about getting mud in the common room." He said gloomily.

"You like her fussing." I returned severely before looking around the room. "How was practice?" I aimed the question at Harry.

Even before he could open his mouth, Ron had slumped forward. "I'm going to quit."

"Don't be thick. You're not that bad." Harry said immediately.

"Meaning, I am bad." He said shrewdly, smirking at me with no mirth. "Listen, you can get McLaggen, you know I don't mind."

"That prat?" I snorted. "Harry'd have to be hit by a dozen bludgers in the head to be that stupid." I sat up straighter. "You just need some confidence." I consoled.

"What good's confidence going to do for me if I just keep missing the bloody quaffle?"

"You don't miss the quaffle. You just…stumble a bit. That's not really something I'm going to kick you off the team for. Ro's right; you need to just believe in yourself."

"You'll be surprised at how confidence actually makes someone lucky."

Harry stuttered to a stop at my words, turning to give me a slow, blank look. Ron was still looking sullenly down at his boots and I raised an eyebrow in question.

Harry had shaken his head at me then, but when I found out about his trick with the Felix Felicis, all I could do was share a secretive but flabbergasted smile with Harry Potter. He probably did get a bludger to the head to come up with that.


A heavy gaze at the side of my head broke me out of my reverie, making me glance up at where the future Dark Lord was looking at me. "What?" I asked, unable to help the apprehension in my voice.

"You must really enjoy Quidditich; you've not paid attention to a word Professor Dumbledore has said." He said. Was it me, or was he amused again? There was no humor in his eyes, only a coldness that I had caught in his stare more often than not.

I turned to face the front quickly, seeing that Dumbledore had indeed started the lecture during my reminiscing. I dove in my bag for my quill, missing the slightly narrowed gaze that Riddle had now fixed me with, focused on the area near my forehead.


It turned out that Quidditch practice in fact was exactly how it was in my time.

It was four days after, that Fawley and Lila trudged with me down to the dewy Quidditch grounds, where we promptly broke off – me heading to the stands while the others wandered to the changing rooms.

I sat by myself, knowing that I was in the sights to some Slytherin and Ravenclaws who were probably eyeing me. I tried my best to ignore the aloof glance of Druella Rosier.

Fawley it turned out had been chosen as the reserve Seeker while Lila was one of the chasers, tearing through the skies as she launched quaffle after quaffle towards the Slytherin keeper.

Some of his fumbles reminded me of Ron, barely catching the quaffle at his fingertips but saving almost all opposing team goals as much as possible.

Ron had been a very good keeper – no matter what he thought.

I thought again of Harry's trick with the luck potion, my lips twitching up in a sad smile.

They were left behind now. Back to where I could only go if I eliminated the threat of Voldemort.

To do that I would have to kill Tom Riddle…

His face swam up in my head. Tall, proud, with his luxuriant midnight hair and closed off eyes…

Why hadn't I done it yet? I should've shot a killing curse at him ages ago.

It was then that the girls sitting with Druella turned to look at me, my gaze meeting theirs head on this time. Most of them looked away quickly, save a few who kept their arrogant gazes still trained on me. I scoffed internally. Most of them probably weren't even completely pureblooded to view anyone else as someone beneath them.

I got to my feet, pulling my cloak tighter to my body against the light chill.

Surely Archie and Lila would understand if I met them inside; I could tell them that it got too cold for me.


I crossed the grounds entrance, heading back to the castle when a sudden impulse drove me away from the main doors; my feet tracing a deeper and more obscure path that cut against the back gardens of what used to be or would in the future be Hagrid's hut.

I was hungry, my stomach roiling from fighting off the cold and one small breakfast that had been my only paltry meal. If Hufflepuff's painting of the fruits was still available, perhaps I could ask the house elves for some scraps that could be spared.

The inside of the castle was warmer, enough for me to tug the cloak away from my shoulders and fluff up my hair to dry. The basement was empty, save from a few loitering students from Slytherin. None of them fortunately paid any attention to me as I descended the stairs to the Hufflepuff corridor.

The painting of the fruits still hung right by the Hufflepuff entrance; the paint rich and gleaming. My hand raised in its own accord, when said person of rumination sprung up in the corner, turning as he spoke to another student. His eyes flicked down the corridor and I dropped my hand just before he could spot me.

However, it wasn't enough to curb suspicion it seemed, as Riddle's eyes zeroed in first on me and then swept around the whole – empty – corridor. I caught his lips pursing, pausing in whatever he was saying as his steps hurried to reach me, before I could turn around and flee.

"Miss Revel," His voice was level, as it usually was when he spoke to me. My eyes flickered to the side to his companion, immediately drawing my face into mild disgust and contempt, one that I could feel was clearly visible.

"Riddle," I answered smoothly before nodding to the other person, "Hornby; what brings you two fine people by?"

I tried to act pleasant, if not mildly sarcastic as I put my hands behind my back similar to how I'd seen Riddle do many times.

"I suppose I should be asking you that question. Why are you here and alone at that?" his eyes travelled to the painting of fruits.

I cursed internally. Of course, as a prefect he would know the hidden paths and ways off and in Hogwarts. He'd probably used them in the war too, the bastard. It would explain how he managed to kidnap me.

"I'm lost." I answered him blankly.

Riddle's eyes moved from the painting to me immediately, narrowing. "Lost?" he repeated, voice incredibly soft and not too trusting.

"Well, you see…I'm new." I aimed that at Olive, just in case Riddle thought I was deliberately trying to annoy him and got more irritated. Would irritation cause him to curse me, I wondered? Especially in front of a witness...? Voldemort had killed for less, but then…he was insane. I doubted Tom Riddle was that crazy just yet.

I caught Olive rolling her eyes at me in obvious disdain before turning big eyes at Voldemort. "Let's just go, Tom." She said.

He ignored her; still looking at me.

"I would suggest you return to the common room, Miss Revel." He said, his voice leaving no room for any other response. It froze my grin, hardening my eyes as we met each others' gazes stonily.

Without another word, I whirled on my heel, stalking away from the Dark Lord and his infuriating lap dog. Was it really necessary for women to hang off of him? First Olive, then Bellatrix…

Sure he was good looking but that was just ridiculous.

My stomach whined pitifully again but I rubbed it consolingly. Hopefully, supper was going to be good tonight.


And there it is! That's the end of September!

How are you all liking Rose as of now? Tom? And the rest of the cast?

I'm also thinking of introducing a bit of Tom's pov, what do you all think?

Let me know your thoughts!