Remember to read the A/N at the end.

Harry's POV

As Harry felt the presence of the taller boy fall in step with him in the corridors, he knew his day could only get worse from there. He was on his way to classes and had hoped that the incident with Alphard would enhance Tom's ignorance of him but unfortunately it seemed that the Slytherin Heir had changed his aims.

He could practically feel the smugness radiating from the older boy as they walked side by side. He urged himself not to be goaded but after a few minutes of continues walking he realized that Tom hadn't spoken yet. Surprised, he glanced at him. The boy seemed relaxed; neither acknowledging his glance nor ignoring it.

This was strange. More than five seconds had gone by and Tom Riddle hadn't opened his mouth to terrorize him with his clever little comments?

It was a miracle.

At last Harry decided to let whatever game the future Dark Lord was playing out continue. It was hard seeing as Tom's magic was sizzling out to him with self-satisfaction. He was taunting him without even talking. How the hell did he manage to do that?

But Harry held out and quickly picked up his pace so he could faster get to his destination. He had Divination as his first class period which Tom didn't; proving further that the boy was up to something. Instead Tom had Alchemy, a subject Harry had never heard of at first. When he'd asked Leonard about it he had been told it was a class surrounding ancient science as well as the four basic elements and the study of transmutation of substances.

Basically it was probably the coolest class ever and of course the 'perfect' Tom Riddle would be offered one of the most specialized subjects in school. Meanwhile Harry was on his way to one of his least favorite subjects about stupid fortune reading. Brilliant.

As they kept on walking Tom was still silent and Harry became impressed. It had to be hard not to say something when he could tell that the older boy wanted to. Harry didn't mind whatever method the Slytherin Heir was trying out as it was working for his benefit.

Harry didn't even bother thinking about the reasons why anymore. Why would he? Tom had finally decided to shut up and for some strange reason escorted him to class. He didn't mind. It seemed that Tom wasn't really that much of a bad company when he was quiet.

Just as Harry was beginning to ease up to whatever tactic Tom was doing he felt an excruciating pain on his right arm. His knees gave in and he slumped down to the hard floor of the corridors. What was happening? It was as if his blood was on fire, and he was seeing white.

For a wild second he thought that he was being put through the torture curse. But Harry knew that the Hogwarts's wards would detect it and therefor it would become nearly impossible for such thing to occur. What was it then if no—?

A whip of burning pain on his right arm exploded and he was feeling so much pain.

He knew that blood curdling screams was forcing to escape his mouth but he bit down on his tongue. He wouldn't scream. Even as he felt the blood creeping through his effort of biting he refused to scream.

Then the pain lifted and he gasped for air; feeling the metallic blood taste emerging from his mouth. As his vision was being restored he saw the tall frame of the handsome Slytherin Heir watching him.

His eyes were bottomless like burning pits of coal, transfixing and cold. But they were also glittering with something... fascination? Amusement.

Tom had done this. Harry was going to kill him.

He hastily gave a look to his surroundings and it dawned on him. They'd been walking through the abandoned corridor. Now it made sense of why the boy had followed him to Divination. Tom had planned this; he knew Harry wouldn't ask questions if he was quiet as it was exactly what he'd always wanted, he knew that on his way to class he'd have to pass the empty hallway and he knew that Harry never brought his wand to the stupid fortune class.

Harry was wandless and vulnerable. He should've seen this coming somehow, how could he have let his guard go down?

He felt two slender fingers under his chin and he moved away from the touch but the grip of the fingers was firm; forcing him to meet the smirking Slytherin Heir's face.

''Don't tell me you're going to wallow in self-pity when the fun part haven't even begun,'' Tom mused, traces of delightment heard in his voice.

Harry put on a nonchalant expression and shrugged lazily, despite the pain that shot through his body from it.

''Of course not,'' he responded easily as if the situation didn't bother him at all. ''I absolutely love being tortured and bled out by complete psychopaths. I must ask, though, if this is how you often greet exchanging students of late?''

Tom circled around him, hungrily eyeing him as a prey when he spoke. His steps were light and faint, but quick as viper. Like a snake.

''I'm pleased you find comfort in your... current circumstance,'' the future Dark Lord said delicately. His circling around him stopped and instead he halted in front of him. The older boy bent down so he was now in eye level with him.

Piercing green eyes met with the hollow black ones. Neither's stare wavered.

''You know, seeing as you're not really an exchange student.''

Harry's blood turned to ice. It had been a mistake to have looked the other boy in the eye because as much as his tongue could tell lies, his eyes hesitated at times.

He was so screwed.

Tom seemed to have caught something in the other because he stood up from his position, looking too content for Harry's liking.

''I think it's time for us to have a little talk,'' Tom declared smoothly. ''This time without lies or tricks that would be holding you back from telling me the truth.''

Harry was getting slightly on edge but decided to think rationally. Tom didn't have any solid proof. Or did he? He examined the boy. The future Dark Lord would win if Harry didn't stay focused. He wouldn't be cracked so easily.

''If this is how you treat all of the students here, I fail to see how you're a Prefect,'' Harry responded calmly at last. ''Unless everyone's suddenly into the whole 'tortured and bled out' thing.''

He'd act the opposite of what his instincts told him because his instincts were the ones of a Gryffindor. A lion couldn't beat a snake in its own chamber therefor he'd think like a Slytherin for this.

Tom smirked, eyes tracing over his face in enticement. ''No, I'm sure it's only you.''

''I'd say I'm flattered,'' Harry gritted out sarcastically but then nodded towards his right arm, ''but then again I don't really meet people who express their flattery through torturous spells.''

It was a thin white band around his right hand that looked a bit like a bracelet. Harry hadn't dared to touch it yet as he didn't know what would happen if he did. If Tom had placed it there he was sure it wasn't just an early Christmas present.

''It's a Dark Art's bonding spell,'' the Slytherin Heir explained when he saw Harry stare at it. ''I placed it there to keep you from running a way, which you seem so fond of doing. The process of putting it there got a bit messier than usual because of your magic being a bit defiant. If you'd refrained from resisting so much, you wouldn't have felt any pain.''

''Is it permanent?'' Harry gulped, hating how unsure his voice was sounding.

Tom was looking at him with casual, calculating eyes and he didn't like how it was as if the older boy somehow saw through him. ''You don't like it when I take advantage of your incomprehension.''

Harry gritted his teeth and hated even more how much of a business-like and nonchalant demeanor Tom held for this.

''I don't like it when anyone touches or places things on me without my consent!'' he snapped, fury flashing in his features. His magic lighted up at his rage.

The handsome boy was watching him thoughtfully and Harry could practically see the wheels spinning in the others head. Then he got closer until there was little space between them, and those dark eyes locked into with his.

''You know,'' Tom murmured dangerously at last. ''Don't you, Harry? You're aware of who I am; through the model student facade. All your little ominous references and underlying threats point to it — you think I haven't noticed them?''

Harry tried turning his gaze away from the blazing look of the future Dark Lord. He could sense the purring satisfaction the boy felt of saying it all in the open as they had tip-toed around each other so delicately for the past months.

''Therefor,'' the boy continued silkily and sharply turned Harry's face towards his so that he couldn't escape the others look, ''you ought to know that I don't care of what you like or don't like.''

''Because you're a sociopath with complete disregard for others feelings?'' Harry spat disdainfully.

''Yes,'' Tom answered simply.

Harry knew what the other boy was implying but refused to acknowledge that he understood. The Slytherin Heir had placed the bracelet there because it would benefit him during the interrogation. He reminded him that he didn't act upon things through what was morally right, but rather through whatever would benefit him the most.

Tom was somehow in his own wicked way atoning an explanation of his actions to Harry, as if he wanted him to comprehend the reasoning for it. Like some sort of a sick apology. But the Slytherin Heir didn't feel remorse or guilt therefor he couldn't apologize. So whatever words Tom had said meant nothing to Harry.

All it told him was why the explanation of his actions had seemed necessary on Tom's part. He deliberately reminded Harry that this wasn't a strategy to taunt him but rather a tactic for him to get through his questioning quicker.

The sheer fact of the future Dark Lord doing such thing implied that he held some sort of regard or a prime courtesy to him. And Harry didn't like that, it threw him off. So he didn't dwell on it.

Instead he nodded towards his right arm, repeating his question again. ''Is it permanent?''

''No,'' the other answered gracefully. ''It will preserve for an hour or two.''

Harry let out a breath he hadn't even realized he'd held. He then saw Tom swiftly move his wand and a trickling feeling fell over them. Giving the boy a questioning look he was met by a grin growing on the others lips.

''A cloaking spell,'' Tom explained with that charming drawl. ''Now, I think it's time for our little question and answering session, don't you think?''

Ginny's POV

The snow had started falling. Ginny watched as the snow fell through the high windows, the courtyard's grass was being covered little by little. It was already December and barely two days had passed since she'd been told to go back into the 1940's.

She hadn't gotten an opportunity of speaking to the Headmaster again. The old man had seemed very busy after their first meeting and whenever she spoke to Hermione the girl encouraged her not to speak of the event that had occured in open places. But the only time Ginny ever saw her was during meals or in the Gryffindor common room; they weren't in the same year and their hobbies were very different, which resulted her into never seeing the curly headed girl in private.

She was beginning to become really irritated. Dumbledore and Hermione had both laid this huge bomb of information on her and had required something from her that could put her sanity at danger. When she wanted nothing more than simple answers to her questions they were suddenly nowhere to be found? Aghh!

Ginny gritted her teeth and tried focusing on her Transfiguration class.

Her sleep deprivation had gotten worse. Somehow knowing that Harry was so close within her reach was torturous. Her Glamour was weighing on her and pieces of her tiredness was seeping through. A few of her friends had pointed it out and she had easily shrugged it off, but it was getting to her now more than ever.

When she got to 1942 she would truly know if Harry was the cause behind the weird feeling she'd felt of... how had she phrased it again? A lost finger? Whatever it was, it was why she was more than eager to get there even if it meant stumbling upon a manipulating bastard of a future Dark Lord.

Even if the quest was to bring Harry back, it was as much of her own journey as Dumbledore and the other people behind it effort in setting it. Ginny cared about Harry as he was a close friend of hers and she would get him home safe, but she'd also figure out whatever mystery was going on of her affectedness of his absence.

Why Harry? What link did she have to him? She would find out.

She would.

As the red heads eyes landed on the Transfiguration Professor she suddenly got a light bulb go off in her head.

Hadn't Professor Snape and McGonagall been involved in the helping of the arrangements of finding Harry? If she couldn't get hold of Dumbledore or Hermione, surely she could get hold of the others connected to them.

SPSPSP

When classes ended, she purposely stood behind the others after so she could catch the Head of House alone. Ginny held tightly to her books and parchments as the older woman turned around and regarded her with a questioning look.

''Professor McGonagall?''

''Yes, Miss Weasley?'' the Professor acknowledged her presence as she watched her cautiously.

The redhead cleared her throat: feeling a bit uncomfortable under the older woman's gaze.

''I'm aware of your involvement in the events that have happened,'' she said warily. ''I haven't gotten a chance to speak to Professor Dumbledore or Hermione about it. They seem rather busy. I was wondering if—''

''My dear,'' the women erupted her in midsentence. McGonagall's hazel eyes were observing her with concern. ''If you're about to ask me of any information of it, I apologize, but I cannot help you.''

She frowned. ''Why not?''

Her question came out a lot more accusing than she'd intended, but she didn't care. Why were they tip-toeing around her? All she wanted was answers to harmless questions. She needed to know her preparation for leaving. Didn't she deserve to know as much?

Ginny felt for the first time, a prickling sensation in her body. She'd never felt it before, it was forceful and energetic. It stilled her for a moment.

''You need to take control of your magic,'' she heard a stark voice pull her back to reality.

She met Professor McGonagall's gaze and her Head of House looked alarmed; looking at her if she were a ticking bomb.

''My magic?'' she repeated, confused. She felt how her head suddenly throbbed with pain and heard a swooshing sound in her ears. She got weak in her bones and nearly lost her stance. Quickly she leaned against a bench for support and the old woman rushed to her side.

''Miss Weasley? Are you feeling alright?''

Obviously not, she thought. Instead she shook her head; not trusting her voice to carry strong enough if she opened her voce.

''I'm taking you to the Hospital Wing,'' the Professor muttered and was about to lead her out the doors before she held back with whatever strength she had left.

''No,'' she protested weakly and removed the others grip which she quickly regretted as she felt unsteady without it. ''There's no need for it.''

'''No need for it'?'' the woman repeated, baffled. ''I'm sorry, Ginevra, but you hardly seem in a position where you can think rationally for yourself.''

Ginny shook her head fiercely, refusing to let the elder track her away from her original plan. She needed her answers. Her head would explode without them.

When Professor McGonagall once again moved to usher her outside, she snapped.

''I don't need medical assistance!'' she thundered, her voice getting stronger. She could feel how her crystal eyes were blazing. ''What I need is answers. Please.''

Silent settled over the empty classroom and her Head of House had gone silent. The hawk-eye gaze settled over her and McGonagall seemed to quietly make some sort of decision.

''If you must insist,'' the woman somberly answered, breaking the silence.

Professor McGonagall moved forward for the last time and firmly but gently took hold of her arm. This time she didn't let her sway her away.

''Where are you taking me?'' Ginny asked, intrigued of how she'd somehow convinced her Head of House into bidding her wants.

If she was quite honest, maybe medical assistance had been what she needed. She felt a bit insane as reality seemed to slip out of her grip in small doses every day.

''I'm taking you to your answers that you seem so keen on asking after,'' the woman said at last, and the whole way through the castle she refused to reply to anything else that came out of the red head's mouth.

Cygnus' POV

He held his younger brother's arm in a forceful grip to keep him from escaping his dormitory.

''Let go of me,'' Alphard demanded calmly but his stormy eyes were withholding a dangerous glint to them.

''No,'' he hissed fiercely, not done with the argument taking place. ''You've put our position with the Dark Lord at risk. You're not leaving here until I've helped you get rid of the anger you've ascended to our family.''

Alphard laughed and it crawled underneath his skin. He then savagely pushed him away, making his grip on his younger brother disappear. He growled.

Stupid, impeccable boy, he thought hotly. Why had the powerful, remarkable Tom Riddle chosen such an impulsive and provocative follower into his outmost inner circle? Why Alphard —the black goat in his family that held too many Gryffindor qualities and were a disgrace— and not him?

His sister Walburga could even do better than the fool! She worshipped the charming and alluring Dark Lord. Even his cousin Orion would do better.

He looked at his brother in distaste; he held such boldness and contumaciously thinking, he was a humiliation to the House of Black.

The younger boy scoffed at his stare. He then daringly approached him; using the little inches of his height in advantage to scrutinize him.

''Our position?'' Alphard menacingly repeated. ''Last time I checked, it was mine. Tom chose me, not you or Walburga or even Orion; me. It's about time you accept it, brother.''

He spat the last word and Cygnus' eyes narrowed.

''You do well to remember who helped you when you w—''

''YOU NEVER HELPED ME!''

He froze, feeling his whole body tense by the yelling. Cygnus became instantly alarmed by the changing demeanor in his younger brother. His normally charming and glowing face was now consumed by anger; his eyes were flaring and mouth quivering with rage.

His hands were turned to fist and the knuckles had turned white. Alphard crouched forward and he instinctively took a step back.

He'd never seen his brother so angry before.

''You never helped me,'' the younger boy breathed heavily now. ''All the times I looked at you for help as Mother and Father constantly terrorized me, you turned your uptight little nose in the air as if you saw nothing.''

Cygnus didn't reply, shocked as he felt his eyes sting. Alphard's rueful face suddenly melted; instead washing into complete agony of tiredness.

In front of him he saw the frail and uncertain little boy that had come to knock on his doors at night, telling him he had nightmares. He always turned him away; hissing at him and throwing insults about his weakness.

It tore at his chest. At last, Cygnus took a deep breath and tightened his posture.

He looked at his younger brother's intense stare. Alphard was pleading to him, begging him to help him as a brother. He needed him.

But Cygnus needed power. And Alphard had robbed him off it the moment he'd gotten in Tom Riddle's favor.

''Dry your tears away,'' he coldly said to him, even as he felt his own eyes threaten to spill. ''Fix whatever you broke with the Dark Lord.''

He then turned away from his brother's emotion filled face and got out of the dormitory.

A/N: I finished writing this yesterday and didn't plan on posting it until a week. And then I got stuck on Chapter 5. I'm growing a bit insecure in my writing and I need help. If you don't want to then that's alright, I still appreciate you guys that read my story in silence.

For you who would like to help — I need you to tell me your dislikes/likes in my story. If you've ever felt that someone has been out of character, tell me. If you feel like you want a character to have specific moment etc., tell me. I truly now need criticism now more than ever. I will give you an example of what i mean.

Refrain from this: ''I like everything! Continute as you do.''

Try this: ''I like everything, some examples like when we get to see glimpses of Ginny's memories from St Mungo's. I don't like the lack of Hermione and Ron. Try testing out the emotional boundaries between Tom and Harry as well as the physical. Your writing is also a bit pretentious with the unneseccary long words. I'd try a more simple, quick to the point writing. The details aren't really that important.''

See the difference? Even if the second one might seem a bit harsh, I will love it. It's what will help my writing.

I truly thank you if you help me with this. I'm growing frustrated at myself as I'm questioning my every move. I read some ''Avoiding Mistakes in Fanfiction Writing: A Beginner's Guide'' and wanted to cry when I noticed that I had done so much of what you shouldn't.

They weren't joking when they said that an author's their own worst critic. I probably need a Beta reader, but the process of finding one is too exhausting. Ugh.