Disclaimer: I don't own the world of Harry Potter as I'm not the author, all rights goes to J.K Rowling and Warner Bros.

Ginny's POV

She was shocked, frozen and instantly had trouble to breathe at the mention of him. The boy that had ruined her life; he had been the reason they'd decided to put her through several meetings with nuns and therapists. His face had appeared as her Boggart form in third year and everyone around her had been confused as if why a normal, charming looking boy was her worst fear. They didn't see that glint in his eyes, that's why. They hadn't seen the dark, alluring look that had led her to her near death.

Tom Riddle. That name was as filthy to her as the Cruciatus Curse.

''Are you ready to face him, Miss Weasley?'' the old man repeated to her, and she noticed how he'd purposely avoided to mention his name this time. ''We wouldn't ask of you to do this if your mental health will be in too much of a risk.''

Ginny took a deep breath, just like her psychiatrist Mrs. Loore in the St Mungo's institute had advised her to do when she felt the anxiety bubbling up. She tried to collect her thoughts; try to make sense of the jumble mess of everything she'd heard. It was so hard to grasp the reality of it all even when Hermione had told her and somehow it seemed even more so when she heard the Headmaster repeating it.

Harry was stuck in 1942 with Tom Riddle. He'd been sorted in Slytherin; and she was being asked to be the one to go back and bring him home.

She couldn't say no. How could she? Dumbledore wouldn't ask this of her if he had another option, she knew that. Hermione had seemed reluctant as well when telling the younger of the quest which proved further that she was, for some reason, the only choice. Ginny knew that it was at times like these that she could choose to be selfish. Mrs. Loore always told her it was necessary to sometimes think about yourself before others. It was how she'd gotten out of her quiet shell in third year. She'd always been quiet as she'd thought taking too much space would deprive others from it but as she stopped dwelling so much of what others felt and did she spoke more and demanded a spot for her to shine.

Of course, too much of selfishness was never good. Although now would be the perfect opportunity for that little taste of egoistical thinking. She could just say no — but she wouldn't.

The thing with Ginny was that even if she was an incredible hot-head at times she cared immensely. She cared too much of Harry as a friend to not take this chance for him and she held too much respect for Dumbledore and Hermione to decline their hard work.

But did she love herself enough to not revisit the old demons? Ginny suddenly remembered all those meeting at St Mungo's. The sterile, yellow wallpapers that were supposed to offer comfort and the hospitalized smell of sickness and death flashed as quick memory details in her mind. All the hours spent there trying to help the traumatized memories of the Chambers of Secret.

Nobody except her parents and twin brothers knew of her meetings. Sometimes it would've gone so bad in there with Mrs. Loore —the times when she'd hallucinated Tom outside the door with the pale skin and looming eyes; taunting her— that she wouldn't leave the yellow room. She'd sleep on the floor as she wouldn't invite any other feeling than the cold. That was when Fred followed by George had come in and put a blanket around her. Her mother had brought them.

They stayed the whole night, making up jokes and inviting a secret language that he wouldn't understand if she saw him again in her dreams. They had been with her the whole time. And eventually she'd gotten better that when she started her third year, she was doing okay. She still had her PTSD (Posttraumatic Stress Disorder) that the Headmaster had been informed of as she would require special curtains for her bed to dull the scream caused by her nightmares. But the meetings with her psychiatrist became more irregular. She got closer to Fred and George and they let her trudge along on their adventurous. Ginny started becoming happier.

Then she saw Tom as her Boggart form and it all went downhill. She started at square on again; back at the yellow room. If she saw him in 1942 would the same thing happen again as it had then? Would she be back in that yellow room? She wouldn't see him as hallucinations this time. He would be real.

Unconsciously she summoned her anxiety ball with her wand and started squeezing it to calm down. When she caught Dumbledore's questioning look she explained.

''It's my anxiety ball,'' she muttered absently, ''it eases my stress.''

''Ah,'' the old man nodded empathetically.

Ginny glanced around the Headmaster's office. She hadn't been there for quite a while and nearly forgot how spectacular it was. The office was a large, circular room with walls covered with portraits of old Headmasters and Headmistresses. Odd little instruments were hanging from the ceiling with objects puffing out smoke. Further down she spotted an old wooden desk with a shabby looking wizarding hat — the Sorting Hat. She wondered where the Sorting Hat would place her if it thought differently of Harry now than it had in his first year.

Ginny could feel the others eyes on her so she turned to meet Hermione and Dumbledore's piercing looks.

''I don't know,'' she answered at last at the Headmaster's previous question. ''I don't know if I'm ready to face To—him yet.''

She could feel the silence in the room settling into an engulfing clock, counting down the final settlements of her next words.

''But,'' she continued, knowing what she said hereafter meant, ''I'm willing to learn how to be.''

Dumbledore's lines in his face perked up as he smiled. The old man exchanged a fleeting look with Hermione until his eyes settled at the red head. Whatever she'd said it appeared to have been the right answer judging by their pleased expressions.

''It seems, Miss Weasley,'' the Headmaster said, and she noticed how he evaded from calling her 'child' this time, ''that you're ready for your training.''

''There are still questions I need answers to,'' she quickly insisted.

And there was. Hermione hadn't told her why she'd been the one chosen for this or how she'd deal with leaving her real life here when she was gone. Would she tell her family? Did she get to skip the OWLs? What about Quidditch?

''All in good time, my dear,'' the old man retorted calmly. ''I think I speak for all of us when I say it's been quite a day and that we all need to rest and arrive for dinner. Now, off you go.''

Both Ginny and Hermione stood up and headed for the doors, but before exiting the younger girl cast a glance back at the Headmaster. He was now petting the Phoenix and was humming on a tune. Ginny noticed how he suddenly was in an awfully good mood.

Harry's POV

As Harry sat at the common room working at his boring History of Magic assignment, he couldn't help but feel intrigued as he observed Tom. He had kept to his word and hadn't spoken to the older boy and to his bewilderment —and suspicion— the Slytherin Heir hadn't forcefully approached him in any way. This was unlike him and the younger boy was agitated of his strange behavior. Not that he wasn't relieved that Tom had finally left him alone, he was. He'd gotten the most peaceful hours to himself ever since he'd gotten here in 1942. But that alone was a red sign, because Tom Riddle never listened to when Harry Potter told him off.

If he ever ignored Tom it always led to the other boy provoking Harry until he finally exploded. Because of that he couldn't shake the feeling of this being another tactic that the older boy had up his sleeve. There was no way that he'd so suddenly have a change of heart (if he now had one, that is) and give in to leave Harry alone. This had been precisely what he'd wanted at the beginning. Why now only give in to his wishes after four months?

Harry held a close look at Tom. Saying that he wasn't fascinated with the younger Dark Lord's interaction with other people would be a blatant lie. Harry spent so much time bickering, ignoring and power-playing with the boy that he barely saw or gave much thought to how he interacted with the other students. He knew, of course, that because of Tom's little act of being the perfect student that everyone seemed to luxuriate in his presence.

He'd encountered glimpses of that behavior whenever he'd first arrived. An example being at dinner; just Tom walking in to the Great Hall changed the whole atmosphere as he had brought every single eye towards him by just being present at the room. Whenever he spoke it became even worse as people seemed to drink up his words like nectar and would do anything for him to level a quick glance their way.

It mortified Harry how much subtle of control the older boy had over the entire school because it explained of how he'd later on succeed in the future of becoming a Dark Lord. That's why Harry had always defied him publicly in the first couple of months; to try and strip off the hold he seemed to have over the students. But it had backfired at Harry as Tom had taken an interest in his dislike and opposition of him. It had made the boy very curious of Harry which he hadn't understood why. Harry had overheard a conversation once of a few seventh years in Ravenclaw subtly hinting towards their dislike against the Slytherin Heir, which had proved to him that not everyone idolized Tom.

So why had the older boy cancelled out just Harry — making him his priority of converting him?

Harry's eyes followed the future Dark Lord as he sat down with Cygnus Black, Druella Rosier and the Slytherin Captain Winky Crockett. It was as if Tom had a magnetic force because as soon as he'd sprawled nonchalantly across his seat they instantly drew to him and hastily spoke over each other to entertain him as well as trying to make themselves noticed. Harry closely watched Tom's face.

The older boy's handsome features was relaxed and held the tiniest bit of enjoyment at seeing the others around him struggle to keep up just to please him. But as he looked closer Harry could see the traces of boredom on the surface and that the boy wasn't really paying attention to whatever Druella Rosier was saying. He seemed disinterested and just simply... bored, as if a daily chore was being done.

Harry tilted his head to the side; he was now more fascinated than anything by the other's behavior. He'd never really paid attention to Tom when he wasn't around him —mostly because he never got the opportunity to not be around the boy— and now that he was, he was curious.

He'd never seen the boy wear that look around him, the look of pure disinterest. He thought back of the times Greengrass or Malfoy interacted with Tom. Did he wear that expression then as well? Quick memories flashed before Harry. No. The disinterest was still present, but definitely not as strong as it were now with the seventh year Slytherin's.

Harry turned to look closer at the Slytherin Heir when suddenly those blazing black eyes caught his gaze. Crap. He saw as the smug look crossed Tom's face and he narrowed his eyes grimly in response before turning back to his History of Magic assignment.

He felt the cackling satisfaction of magic emerging from the other boy and he gritted his teeth in annoyance. Of course Tom would take self-indulgence from catching Harry staring at him. He probably thought Harry was considering his 'training' offer.

Harry scoffed. As if. Just knowing how smug the boy would be if he came up and accepted it made him want to strangle himself.

''I've always known Professor Binns classes caused some people to have suicidal thoughts,'' a voice sauntered playfully, ''I just never knew his assignments held the same effect.''

Harry looked up and saw Alphard Black walking towards his corner surrounded by piles of books, quills and parchment.

Instinctively a grin quirked up the corner of Harry's lip as for a second his brain had identified the boy in front of him as Sirius. When reality caught up with him, the grin died slowly.

He hated seeing Alphard for this reason. The boy just constantly tugged and twisted the knife in his heart that the death of his godfather had left.

''Please, no need for the overwhelming joy of seeing me,'' he pointed out as he clearly noticed the shift in Harry's behavior from happy to looming.

In response Harry put on a plastered smile. ''I'm just tired, it's all. This assignment is bringing out the worst in me.''

Alphard sat down next to him and without invitation grabbed his parchment to view his work. With a concentrated look he skimmed through the text.

''It's not bad, although it can definitely improve,'' he said eventually when he'd finished reading and handed over the parchment back to him. ''I can help you with it.''

''I'll manage,'' Harry denied and turned back to his work.

''I get the feeling that you don't like me very much.''

He wasn't surprised by the blunt way Black approached the subject he'd awaited to show up. Alphard was in Slytherin, after all. There was no tip-toeing around conflicts like these he had learned. With pure-blood families, if someone had a problem they'd show or tell you it candidly. That way you'd know who to protect your back from.

He knew that with the way he'd so openly gotten along with most of Tom's other followers and had excluded Alphard that this confrontation would take place. It wasn't fair how he avoided the other Slytherin but so wasn't Sirius death as well. Nothing was fair, and he wouldn't pretend as if anything were.

He was also aware that one of the reasons Alphard wanted Harry to like him was because of Tom. For the past four months Harry had favored Greengrass' company of all the Slytherin's. He didn't know why but the witty brunette had grown on him as he had spent his time in the 1940's. Dennis' family was a part of one of the very, very few wizarding families in Slytherin that didn't hold the extreme belief of pure-blood supremacy. Harry distinctively remembered Daphne Greengrass' little sister, Astoria, befriending a Hufflepuff in her first year.

Maybe it had been why he tolerated the boy over the others in Tom's clique. If Dennis Greengrass was a possible grandfather to the girl he must've had an impact of not furthering down the prejudice in his family for her to turn out like she did. Either way, Harry's favoring of Dennis had resulted in the boy becoming closer to the Slytherin Heir. Harry knew Tom only did so to somehow prove that whatever friend Harry made they would all still prefer the younger Dark Lord's presence over his. It'd annoyed him that Tom had done so but he eventually got over it. In the end the older boy granted him a favor of reminding him that he couldn't trust anybody in the dungeons of snakes.

At the thought of dungeons of snakes Harry turned to Alphard. The boy awaited a reply from him.

'I get the feeling that you don't like me very much.' The words repeated themselves as an echo in his head.

''Well,'' Harry simply said at last, ''I don't really like any of you, do I?''

To his surprise the boy didn't scowl or sneer at him which was something someone like Abraxas Malfoy would've done. Instead the black haired boy tilted his head back and laughed heartedly. It wasn't the same barking laugh Sirius had which eased the aching knife tugged in his heart. Rather the laugh was warm and calming. A small smile danced at Harry's lips at the sound of it.

''It's a pity you feel that way,'' Alphard confessed, his grey eyes seemingly uplifted now. ''It'd be quite a liberty to have someone around with such bluntness.''

''Would it, now?'' Harry mused, holding a mischievous gleam to his own eyes. ''You should stop kissing my arse so much, Tom might get resentful by the lack of adoration you're sending his way in place of mine.''

Looking at the ruffled hair boy in front of him Harry finally began to see the differences between Sirius and Alphard. As the Slytherin grinned he didn't hold the wolfish streak that his godfather had in his grin. Instead the boy had the usual smug look that many Slytherin's wore. There probably was endless of differences between the two, Harry had just been too consumed by his grief that he never let the boy too close to see them.

Alphard posture seemed a lot more comfortable now than before; he probably acknowledging the way Harry's approval of him grew.

''Perhaps you're confusing adoration with enthrallment. I'm only trying to befriend you,'' the boy admitted sincerely at last.

Harry observed him. Alphard body language was at ease as he was playing with a few of Harry's quills that were spread out across the floor. His broad shoulders were relaxed and the usual stormy eyes were smooth. But Harry could tell from his demeanor that he was only portraying the calmness and was probably a bit unnerved by his stare.

Harry was no fool; he knew that a huge impact of the Slytherin wanting to befriend him was because of Tom. They all thought that getting his approval would bring them closer to the future Dark Lord, which he didn't see the logic in. Whenever Tom and Harry interacted with each other in front of his clique they were often arguing. Where did they get the impression of their leader even liking him? If anything they should think that befriending Harry would anger Tom, especially now that he was no longer speaking to the Slytherin Heir.

For being a smart boy Alphard and the rest of the Slytherin's were foolish around the subject of Tom as all of them were blinded by their loyalty and devotion to him — desperate to do anything that would get them closer to the powerful future Dark Lord.

Harry could use that weakness to his advantage.

''Befriend? You're certainly not one to stop at first name basis,'' Harry joked dryly at last as he was viewing Black with a predator mannerism.

He saw Alphard tense and the previous Gryffindor felt a twinge of regret using the boy in his wicked game, but quickly demolished any guilt. He wasn't a Gryffindor anymore and couldn't afford to think or act like one.

''I guess I'm not,'' the boy then agreed steadily, but Harry saw the hesitation crossing the others face.

The elegant features of Alphard were stiff and he looked as if it had dawned on him that he might've underestimated the cost of Harry's 'friendship' and was now unsure of his decision. Harry smirked. The Heir of the House of Black had no idea what he'd gotten himself into.

He might win this round between him and Tom after all.

Tom's POV

The Slytherin Heir was bored beyond saving as he listened to Druella Rosier's blabber. The seventh year girl was what others would deem attractive; silvery blonde hair, full lips and a pointy nose. A nose that was simmering too much in others business, he thought, judging by the hours she could gossip about the whole student body.

But it was gossip that would come in handy someday. He was in no means obliged to please her or the rest of her stupid little range of friends. If he wanted something of them he'd get it. Nevertheless, he was resourceful enough to know that the most devoted followers wasn't forced by hand but rather gained by charm and deception. And Tom Riddle was very charming and deceiving.

So that was what he was doing, fulfilling his daily chores in a way as he simply amused the petty little gang. It barely took him a few minutes of airy conversation to make their whole evening, seeing as his mere presence got them all weak on their knees. Winky Crockett, the Slytherin Captain that seemed to have gotten too many bludgers aimed at his head enthusiastically spoke about his upcoming Quidditch game. He knew the muscular boy hoped for him to show up and therefor slyly mentioned it. It was amusing to see such a large builded boy act like a child in his presence.

Druella Rosier seemed to forget all about her boyfriend Cygnus Black sitting beside her as she leaned into him a little too close whenever she spoke, but as predicted Cygnus Black didn't seem to mind — whatever got him in favor of the Slytherin Heir could make him sell out his girlfriend for something as frivolous a latter up in the social scale in Slytherin.

Tom found them all distasteful. They'd happily brag about how they'd spent time with him; earning the jealousy by the others that weren't granted the same opportunity.

It was pathetic.

But who weren't these days? Everyone fell for his persuasion and charisma sooner or later. The ones who'd resisted the most were those who had ended up as his most faithful followers. Abraxas and Dennis, he remembered with amusement, hadn't been very fond of him first. It took him barely a month before their defiance was broken and shattered and now they were his most precious of toys to play with whenever he got bored. The same tune sang with Leonard and Alphard, though they'd been less reluctant of joining him.

That was the thing; as much as one told themselves they despised his ways, hated him even, there was a part of them that still found him mesmerizing. They were all snakes and he held the flute that controlled them, the flute that hypnotized and could control every inch of a bone in their body. The flute that worked on all snakes — all except one.

Harold Porter.

The messy black-haired boy remained a mystery to him. Just like his Killing Curse green eyes, he was deadly. Tom had encountered several duels with him and he was impressed. Nobody impressed the Slytherin Heir. The magical strength radiated from the boy and when he'd commented on it, Harold simply shrugged it off as it being a result by his intense training in Durmstrang.

Tom knew when people were lying and Harold Porter was an exquisite liar in the finest of forms. For some reason Harry (as he liked to call him which the other boy detested) had lied about his heritage the first time he'd spoken to him. He'd claimed he was a mudblood as if he expected Tom to lose interest in him by this statement. He hadn't as it only furthered his interest more and eventually Harry slipped out a comment of his true heritage during one of their more intense fights.

He'd asked why he'd lied and the boy murmured pathetically of some rubbish about testing him; too see if he held the same prejudice against mudbloods as he'd heard all Slytherin's did.

As Tom had scrutinized the boy with his callous look he determined that there was truth in the boy's statement but also lies tangled together within it. It was Harry's expertise to tell the truth and mix it in with lies, because in that way Tom couldn't fully catch him where he wanted. Harry was hiding information — he knew something about Tom that the Slytherin Heir wasn't even sure he even knew himself.

He'd find the boy staring at him at times; bitterness, anger, confusion and anguish all radiating from those emerald eyes. How could a stranger hold such personal feelings towards him? He had never met the boy before and he'd rummage through is brain for signs of people Harry could potentially know. There was no one. Those meetings with Albus Dumbledore added to the mystery about him, as well.

None of them had mentioned the dark, intense atmosphere that hung between them. He personally needed more solid proof to pin-point what he suspected before addressing it. Harry knew, and he himself knew. There was unfinished business between them, business that Tom didn't even know the full details about and it infuriated him. Until then they both kept each other on their toes — power-playing and trying to convert the others morals.

But sooner or later, Tom would find out whatever Harold Porter was hiding. He always did.

Half-listening to Druella, Cygnus and Winky's conversation he let his eyes skim through the common room. That was when his eyes locked with Harry's.

A smug look crossed his face as he saw the boy narrow his eyes at him. With a prideful snort, the boy returned to his work as if he'd never even looked at him to begin with. Stubborn little lion, Tom mused to himself. He always tried to hold on to his righteousness whenever they'd argued.

The Slytherin Heir knew that Harry would rather jump from the Astronomy Tower than to approach Tom first at times like these. It always ended up with him going forward and getting things back on track. Except this time, this time he'd changed tactics and he was sure he'd win.

Until someone interfered.

With irritation he watched as Alphard approached the more cunning Slytherin. As their conversation elaborated he could see that his follower was falling right into the palm of Harry's little schemes. It took one look at Harry to catch the predator sheen hiding behind his glasses to understand.

Harry was going to use whatever blind loyal Alphard held to him for his own beneficial benefit. It was times like these he was thankful for his analyzing abilities.

His magic cackled with soothing fury begging to unleash. He clicked his tongue to the roof of his lips; a habit he'd developed for whenever he was in the process of calming his demeanor. He'd never counted on Harry interacting with the youngest heir of the House of Black. From the beginning he'd noticed the way he'd flinch whenever he saw Alphard. The dark-haired Slytherin triggered Harry of some sort of unpleasant memory so that had left Black unnecessary to work on as he did with his other followers.

For some idiotic reason the fools thought that getting close to Porter would get them in good with him, so for the most insecure targets as Malfoy or Greengrass he'd given special treatment to remind them of their loyalty to him. Zabini, the more sensible of the bunch, had too much pride to ever suck up to Harry in order for some extra points with the Slytherin Heir.

Black? It had seemed he'd gotten desperate enough to go down that route.

His magic must've felt stronger in the others atmosphere than he thought because now Druella Rosier was fidgeting nervously and Cygnus Black had stopped talking, instead following Tom's gaze to his own brother. Even the doofus Winky Crockett had shut up.

''Is there something bothe—'' Cygnus had begun mildly but got interrupted by his icy, rippling voice.

''Alphard,'' he called out coldly.

His voice had been in a formal, conversational tone but seemed to freeze the whole common room. He saw the boy's shoulders tense at the mention of his name. When he turned around to face him all color had left his normally sun-kissed face.

''Yes?'' he answered weakly and he could hear the silent 'My Lord' hanging after his response.

A smile played on his lips and he was sure his dark eyes were glittering viciously at his follower.

''Why don't you come join me and your brother here?'' he said, his voice being enchanting and sweet. It was read as a pleasant suggestion for the others listening in the common room, but between them it was heard as a cold demand.

Tom let his eyes flicker momentarily on Porter. ''Harry there must not be a very entertaining company, seeing as he's held his clamp shut the whole day. Or maybe it's just me he's ignoring?''

He saw the flare of fury in the emerald eyes at the mention of the boy's nickname but Harry quickly seemed to regain himself.

''Of course,'' Alphard answered to his demand and stood up until a sharp hand shot out to keep the boy there.

Black watched nervously as Porter let out an effortless laugh, motioning to the boy to sit down again.

''I don't mind your presence,'' he lightly said with a genuine smile. Harry then looked straight at him with an equally as shivering glare. ''It's the presence of impeccable, manipulating jerks I can't stand.''

''It's a wonder how some people can stand to be around themselves, then,'' he spat back.

They both glared at each and he could feel the scintillating magic from them both threatening to lash out.

A cough was heard and they both averted their eyes to the source of the sound; Alphard. The boy stood there awkwardly and looked like he'd want nothing more than to disappear.

He gently removed Harry's hand and gave the boy a tight smile. ''Thank you, Porter, but I do think I should join them.''

''Very, well then,'' the messy haired boy replied a little bit too friendly. He leaned back and had a smirk dancing on lips, but Tom could see the annoyance in his eyes of losing his little bait. ''I'll take you up on helping me with this assignment some other time. You know, now that we're friends and all.''

The Slytherin Heir couldn't help but slightly be appraising of the work of Harry. However much the boy said he hated Tom's manipulating ways, the boy himself wasn't much better.

Alphard simply nodded in response to Harry but a flash of frustration was noticeable on his face. Good.

The common room went back to normal as the younger Black joined them. He decided that he would talk to Alphard later. For now he held a close watch on Harry as the boy returned to his work as if nothing had just happened.

He needed to change tactics.