Hermione's POV

Ginny seemed fazed but after a moment had passed she yelped, ''what?''

The older girl hushed and urged her to be silent, more so for her own benefit than of fear that anyone else would take notice of them. Not that they would if her charms worked correctly; which, if she was being honest, they always did.

The Headmaster had told her that it wasn't needed to make mention of him if it wasn't absolutely necessary and with Ginny's attempt at leaving it had seemed to be the time to pull that card. She had now put herself in a difficult position and had to be smart of how she went about it. How did she explain that she had worked with Professor Dumbledore to find Harry behind the younger girl's back? Not only behind Ginny's back but also Ron's and most of the members in the Order as well.

Hmph. The mention of Ron quickly demolished her mood. Ever since Harry's disappearance he'd grieved and due to them always being alone they had gotten pretty close. Well, closer than they'd ever been before to be exact. Hermione blushed at the memories but reminded herself of his recent behavior. Ron had now distracted himself with any girl that would have him and his current one was Lavender Brown.

She couldn't stomach either of them when they were around each other. Therefor she'd gotten lonely without Harry or Ron anymore. The headmaster seemed to have noticed this and offered her to help him in his progress of finding Harry. Within a month's time they found Harry's location; 1942. It had surprised Hermione. He hadn't been lost or taken hostage by the Dark Lord or any of his followers. Harry hadn't fled either, which was something she had pondered on in her more depressing times. No, he was stuck with Voldemort's younger self — Tom Riddle.

She had been in a bit of denial at first and had asked the Headmaster to re-do the process again with the advance tracer spells and expensive potions from Pyrenees. Professor Dumbledore simply told her it would take another month to do the transaction and that they didn't have the time. He was right, of course. They had been lucky to see the blurry glimpse of Harry in a Slytherin tie with Tom Riddle.

Hermione remembered both of their reactions that had taken place a month ago when they'd seen the image. The old man's face had turned grim and she had been exasperated (''Slytherin? The Sorting Hat must've purposely done it so that he could keep a close eye on You-Kno— I mean Voldemort, right, Professor? Professor!'').

After Dumbledore's reassurance she knew that some changes must have taken place during the summer for Harry to have been placed in Slytherin. Sirius' death must've changed him a lot more than any of them had thought. Hermione felt guilty; if she could've somehow prevented him for feeling whatever he'd felt to have changed his values enough to get into Slytherin then maybe he would already have been back by now. A nagging part of her brain told her that if Harry was stuck there for too long he would start to enjoy the younger Dark Lord's company. Maybe he wouldn't want to go back by the time they sent someone after him.

She suspected Dumbledore thought this too and that was why they had hurried and only taken a week to choose who to send back that would succeed their quest. This was when more people had gotten involved such as Alastor Moody, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Professor Snape and McGonagall. Hermione knew Dumbledore had a few more people involved up his sleeve that she didn't know of, but as long as it all got along quickly she tried not to ask too many questions.

Whoever was going to get sent back was going to be greatly prepared; Kingsley Shacklebolt had forged old documents from the Ministry that would make it look like the person sent back with the papers already existed and would therefore not be suspected. Mad-Eye Moody would help them improve in the areas within the Dark Arts for a two week's deadline (Professor McGonagall and Hermione had both been against it but Dumbledore convinced them at the end, although not without difficulty). The Headmaster's reasoning for such training was how the social system worked back then in Slytherin. Knowledge was greatly appreciated there and to send whoever person back blindly with a bare back for future Death Eaters would be foolish. Secretly, Hermione had found herself thankful for not being the one sent back. The pressure was immensely high.

Amongst the last three people was Professor Snape who'd looked highly uninterested during the entire time Hermione had seen him. He was put up for the potions of disguising this person's appearance. And at last Hermione and Professor McGonagall had been working on the Time-Turner. Normally it could only send one person back for maximum of five hours without the possibility of serious injury for the traveler and expanding that time by over fifty years was hard work. Hermione had gotten a head-ache all week by the work put into it and while her Head of House was helping, it was tough.

Then it had come down to who to send back. Hermione couldn't leave — whoever was going to leave, if younger, had to get themselves sorted into Slytherin and a muggle-born in that time wouldn't bode well. Ron was out of the question since he would attempt to murder the younger version of Voldemort at first sight, and for some reason Professor Dumbledore didn't seem to trust any Order of the Phoenix members for this. Many didn't know of Voldemort's old identity as Tom Riddle and perhaps the old man wanted it kept that way for future happenings.

Personally she'd wanted it to be Remus Lupin. But then she remembered his grief for both Harry's disappearance and his old friend's death; she knew the man couldn't handle bringing Harry back as he struggled with his transformation as well.

And that's where Ginny Weasley came into the picture.

Harry's POV

Harry's shoulders were tense as he ate breakfast the next morning. The meeting with Dumbledore had been about another discussion of the situation of his time traveling. Once again he regretted having gone to the Deputy Headmaster when he'd first arrived. It had been out of instinct of course; he'd realized he had somehow gotten thrown back in time and desperately sought out the elder for help. He didn't know any other way he could've gone about it as he'd been panic-stricken and shocked. The only person he knew and trusted enough with such a large burden in 1942 had been Dumbledore.

The fact that the meeting had been about his time traveling had also made it so much harder to explain to Tom. The older boy didn't know yet of his true past (future?), although he had figured out a whole lot more. The tension between the two was zealous and Harry knew that a tiny slip of things and all his secrets would unravel.

It had him on edge that morning. He was also grumpy that Dennis Greengrass had deliberately hinted to Tom about his whereabouts when he had gone to meet with the old man. Even if he had gotten along best with Greengrass out of all the Slytherin Heir's little followers, he was reminded at times like these of where all of their loyalty really lied.

They could all get a long as good as they'd wanted but at the end of the day Harry truly didn't have anyone to trust.

''You're look dashingly bitter this morning, Harold,'' he heard a smug voice drawl. He glanced at where the voice had come from and saw Abraxas Malfoy take seat before him at the table.

As expected Draco's grandfather was an equally annoying company as the boy he himself had been.

''Really?'' Harry lazily replied, ''well, I was going for the infamous 'miserable Abraxas' look today. I guess it worked.''

Greengrass chuckled as Malfoy sneered in response. They sat at the Slytherin's table and it had eventually become a habit for Harry to sit with Tom's little range of followers. In the beginning he'd tried from refraining of it as much as he could which only seemed to make the older boy push further for him to sit with them. After yanking and pulling along with sneers and petty conflicts Harry had agreed to sit with them but only at breakfast.

It was the worst idea the previous Gryffindor could ever decide upon doing. To have to sit with the unfathomable little pets of Tom first thing in the morning caused him headaches. Harry hated mornings now more than ever.

''Don't mind Porter,'' Greengrass told the other blond boy that was still sour over Harry's jab at him. ''He's just bitter I caught him going against Tom's orders.''

''I don't take any orders from Tom,'' he mocked as he firmly put down his pumpkin juice.

''Yet.''

The familiar charismatic voice was enough for Harry to know who it was but the others reactions made it sure for him that it was the Slytherin Heir. It was quite funny how everyone around him had all immediately turned towards where the voice had come from as if in a trance.

As usual the tall, handsome boy sat next to Harry and he couldn't decide whether to be entertained because of Malfoy and Greengrass' envious looks or to be annoyed now that he'd probably be interrogated like any other lovely morning.

''Do refrain from looking so miserable; people might start to think you don't like being around my presence,'' Tom breezily said to him as he added porridge to his plate.

Harry rolled his eyes. ''Oh, we wouldn't want that, now would we?''

Alphard Black and Leonard Zabini joined the table at last and they both looked exhausted which wasn't a very unusual sight as they always slept in. Harry watched Alphard with a bit of unease; the boy looked so much like Sirius had when he was younger it had rattled him cold to the core at first. They had same good-looking features of the Blacks and the traces of laughter in their face together with the striking grey eyes and fair skin. When Greengrass had pointed out about his staring he had made up a lie of the other boy looking like an old friend of his in Durmstrang. They'd all bought it except for Tom (of course) and now every time he encountered the other it was like a walking reminder of his Godfather's death.

Tom hadn't confronted him about it yet but he knew it would take place sooner or later.

''I'm sure Harold just has his headache again,'' Abraxas Malfoy cut in effortlessly to somehow get off the attention of Harry. Not for Harry's sake but rather his own so that everyone, including Tom, would pay more thought to him.

The Slytherin Heir simply raised his dark eyes briefly at the blond haired boy to acknowledge that he had heard him for then only to go back and address Harry once again. He barely held back from grinning when he saw Malfoy scorn at him for stealing the attention, but the satisfaction of it was short lived.

''Aren't those the headaches that are caused from that odd little scar of yours?'' Tom gracefully asked, a smirk forming on his lips as he saw Harry flinch.

He bit his tongue to hold back from snapping a rude remark and instead he put on a blank expression and stayed quiet. Harry kept on eating his toast like nothing at all. Everyone's eyes at the Slytherin table were turned towards them and there was no way this conversation would go well if he didn't evade from falling for the older boy's tricks.

''You know,'' Tom continued as if he'd responded to his previous question, ''you have never really told me about the story of how you got it.''

''For good reason,'' Harry bit out. ''It's nothing interesting about it.''

Tom gave him a look as if to say 'your definition of interesting is very different from mine'.

''How did you get it?''

Leave it up to Tom Riddle not to prance around questions during breakfast. But the previous Gryffindor expected nothing less seeing as Breakfast was one the rare moments where Harry had agreed on willingly being around Tom. Otherwise it was a hide-and-seek situation with Harry avoiding the other and the older boy always finding him. He knew it was the future Dark Lord's little clique that probably hinted at Harry's locations all the time.

But Harry was prepared; he had come up with lies that would tell little information as possible to every question Tom would ask. So he said the lie with no effort as if he'd said it a thousand times before.

''When I was little I fell over and had a concussion.''

He felt the intense dark eyes watch him carefully. He was probably calculating his response over and over until he would find flaw within it but Harry had gone over it a thousand times to make sure it wouldn't. It was also felt a bit silly to go from 'I got it as a scar from a Dark Lord's attempt at murdering me' to 'I fell'.

The atmosphere was cackling with heat and he could feel that the people around them still watching with the same awed manner. Tom leaned back nonchalantly as if he was completely comfortable and relaxed with the situation which the bastard probably was. Harry knew he enjoyed this; relished in seeing Harry fidget around his thoughts to slinger his way out his interrogations.

''Where did you fall down? It must have been an ugly incident for you to get such a scar,'' the alluring voice pressed on. Harry snapped his head toward the jet black haired boy and narrowed his eyes furiously. He was met with an amused expression from the older boy.

''The thing about concussions, Tom, is that you get a bit of a memory loss from it. I hardly remember anything from it all.''

Laughter. Harry still held deep resentment toward that laugh. It was even more pathetic how the people around them endeavored in that laugh; clinging to it as if it was a blessing. It made him uneasy, because how could one boy how such power over the others?

''I know plenty about concussions,'' Tom spoke at last, ''seeing as I've given you a fair shares of those. Or have you already forgotten that, love? You do seem a bit dense this morning.''

Harry gritted his teeth and hearing Zabini and Malfoy's chuckles finally drove him to the edge.

''IT HAPPENED ONE TIME!''

A deadly silence fell over the Great Hall as his furious yell echoed around the walls. Everyone's head was now turned toward them and a few whispers arose. Even the Professors at the front simply stared and made no attempt to say or do anything. Harry could feel Dumbledore's curious eye at him which prickled his anger further.

He stood up and saw how Black and Zabini also rose; glancing at Tom for instructions whether or not to stop him. Harry nearly scoffed. They'd have a damn nerve to try and touch him now. Sirius' look-a-like or not, in a mood like this the boy would destroy Alphard Black in a fight and take Zabini with him.

At last the Slytherin Heir waved his hand dismissively which made the two followers sit down, but they still had their eyes on the younger boy warily. He made his way to move towards the doors but a sharp hand shot out and held him in his place.

Harry watched as Tom stood up slowly and his height caught up with him. Riddle was tall, a bit taller than him which annoyed him at times such as these.

''Don't make a fuss,'' he said smoothly to him, and although Tom's voice betrayed nothing his eyes held a warning glint to it. ''Walk with me.''

Tom walked by Harry and reluctantly he followed after him. All eyes followed them until they were out of the doors of the Great Hall — Harry could practically hear how the voices of gossip exploded a soon as they had left.

As Harry tried to sneakily watch Tom's expression in front of him as they walked to the halls he could in essence see how Tom added 'scar' as a touchy subject of Harry's on his mental list about the younger boy. He would use it against him. Harry could only blame himself that he'd let the other boy figure out another weakness of his as he shouldn't have reacted so erratically.

Tom, of course, seemed to know what Harry always thought as he brought that up.

''It isn't wise for you to lose your temper in such way in front of the others. They'll view you as weak.''

Harry frowned and halted in the middle of the hall. Why should he even trust to follow the boy? He didn't even know where they'd been going.

''From your implication earlier I think they already do now,'' he responded coolly. ''And I seem to remember you getting a rather large bruise at the side of your head at the end of that duel.''

Tom smiled wickedly at him as he was clearly not taking Harry's anger fully seriously. ''I do remember although, I never expected you to be so insecure in your abilities for you lash out so suddenly.''

Harry scoffed. ''I'm not insecure. I just don't appreciate being portrayed as inferior to you.''

The Slytherin Heir didn't reply to that and simply stared at him in thought. He didn't like where this was going with the look the older boy seemed to have. He noticed how the other also neither agreed nor disagreed with the statement of him being inferior to him. Harry wondered what went through that mind of his; he hated how he had lost once again. Tom had gotten one over him. He truly hated breakfast and he knew how much the other boy enjoyed it as he seemed to have had become a morning person ever since.

He got a headache simply by standing next him (and no, it wasn't because of the scar). All the planning, scheming and thinking was too much for him. How could he even remotely change Tom's behavior of becoming a Dark Lord when he couldn't even control a situation like this from happening?

''I could train you if you're that unsure of your magical capabilities.''

Harry's head shot up in hearing what the other had said. He looked at the other boy and was met with an expression that didn't reveal anything. Typical.

''It's actually funny how you still insist on me being insecure,'' he said.

Tom tilted his to the side. ''Denial has never been very flattering on you.''

''You know what?'' he snapped at last and Harry could feel the heat rising to his face, ''I'm not speaking to you anymore. Good luck finding someone else to pester with your short-sighted, aggravating analyzing habits.''

Harry turned his back against the older boy and started walking away.

''You can come find me again when you've stopped dwelling into your insecure, miserable and self-loathing ways. I'm pretty used to it by now, actually.''

Dumb annoying mini-Dark Lord that always has to have the last word, Harry thought furiously as he stomped away from the smirking Slytherin Heir.

Dumbledore's POV

The old man knew it would become a very interesting and productive day when Miss Granger arrived with a quite shaken Ginny Weasley in tow.

''She knows,'' was all Miss Granger confirmed hollowly as she sat down and would refuse to look the Headmaster in the eye. Interesting.

He peered at the younger girl; her expression was rather puzzled as if a thousand thoughts were running through her head. He wasn't very content with how the girl had found out as he would've much rather preferred to have spoken to her himself but he knew Miss Granger was a clever girl. The situation must've been vital for her to have told her in such way for Weasley to react like that.

''How are you holding up, child?'' he softly asked the girl sitting in front him. She looked a lot like she'd done when Harry had brought her to him and her family after the Chamber of Secrets incident. So frail and delicate, but he wouldn't let himself be fooled. He'd observed the girl for weeks now. He'd set up innocent enough trials through the school to see how well her magic's reflexive skills would respond to it (like a stair suddenly turning into a flat surface or a lamp falling upon her). It was innocent enough and the walls of the school had whispered how she'd done well enough to him. He knew his limits and that he couldn't push further without suspicion arising, so he had to wait for the trials she'd have with Alastor.

He truly hoped for her to succeed. There was greatness in her; the true spirit of Gryffindor. That was mostly what the old man had noticed — what had set her very far apart from Harry. The boy was spectacular, yes, but in a sense of not having been categorized into anything. He was his own definition. Grey; neither Light nor Dark. Harry was still not fully sure of himself or of who he was and what he was supposed to be. Tom Riddle would take advantage of the immense wave of conflicted feelings Harry was going through and that's why the boy would need someone who was firm, an obstacle that would prevent Harry from going fully dark; someone that would keep him grey.

Someone who had been questioned their whole life of who they were that they now knew all the questions. A person who had an established sense of themselves after being their own worst critic, he needed someone who had come in terms with who they were.

The old man had been able to have two options to choose from; Ginevra Weasley or Remus Lupin.

His old student had been an unsure and shaky chance to have gone with as Lupin wasn't particularly stable. The man was currently fighting with his own demons, both mentally and physically. He also knew that the only thing keeping that man sane right now was his relationship with Nymphadora Tonks and they could hardly send two people back in time. They'd a limited usage of the Time-Turner. Dumbledore's own preferable and final decision had been Weasley. The only thing that had kept him unsure was her previous traumatic experience with Tom Riddle. He guessed her shaking form right now was the reason for it. She had struggled with PTSD (Posttraumatic Stress Disorder) severely after her second year.

The younger version of Voldemort had left her quite scarred and revisiting old demons would be hard for her to say the least. But he knew, with Alastor's training, that she'd get tougher. It would become a nightmare for her. He knew it would. But the Headmaster convinced himself that she couldn't have Tom Riddle as her weakness. How could she if she'd eventually had to come to face him at last?

He looked at Ginevra now and she had still not answered his question.

''Child?'' he tried again, keeping his voice at the same soft tone as earlier.

Dumbledore stared in mild surprise as startling chilled eyes turned to look back at him.

The words that she uttered were so sharp and crisp that he wondered if it was him she was really directing the words to or if she was imagining someone else in her head.

''Do not call me a child,'' the red head demanded coldly.

A/N: I'm so nervous about writing Tomarry, they are the hardest part for me. Their dialogue comes very easily for me but when it comes to fleshing it out I'm completely lost. I hope I did okay? I'm more than willing to take any criticism that would help me develop them.

Also, no, 'Porter' is not an error. Harold Porter is Harry's identity in 1942.