Hermione stopped beside Harry and sat down on the grass, scowling. The Potter looked at her frowning. "Is anything wrong?"

"What do mean exactly? The fact we're captured in 1944 or that I've seen Riddle already — I thought that the students would arrive in the evening..." Hermione stopped talking and watched the Black Lake. "So what is he doing here?" she wondered, not assuming that Harry would give her an answer.

"Ask him", Harry suggested sardonically and received a disgusted reply:

"What?!"

"If you want to know what he's doing here, ask him, but I think he'll say he's attending school," the Potter began seriously, but he couldn't stop himself from joking a little while making a face.

Hermione glared at him and pursed her lips. That wasn't funny at all!

The wizard rolled his eyes and sighed. "Oh come on, don't act oversensitive..." He knew that meeting Riddle would have happened, sooner or later didn't matter much. And he thought Granger had also realised that. The witch jumped to her feet and yelled: "Harry James Potter! Don't make a fool out of me!"

Harry narrowed his eyes and looked at her as if he wanted to know: Are you dumb or something? How could you call me Potter! In this time, my name is Evans.

But he changed his mind and fired back: "Oh, you're doing that perfectly on your own. You really don't need me for behaving like a tit!"

Hermione stamped her foot and growled: "Sometimes you're such a git!" Then she turned and ran back to the castle. Momentarily she bade her best friend good riddance!

The doors flew open and a moody witch stormed into the library, as Tom Riddle was sitting at a window seat, reading the Daily Prophet, he caught a glimpse of her. Hermione ran along the aisles. On her left as well as on her right side, heavy bookshelves stood one after the other. She searched for a book about potions, only watching the titles, but didn't read them, because her mind was full of Harry and that stupid discussion. Today he was so awful. Wasn't the situation itself bad enough? Did Harry really have to treat her like that? Hermione grabbed after a book, which she knew was burnt during Lord Voldemort's first rise.

"I might find some important information..." she pondered, looking at it thoughtfully. Then she went back to the tables.

Tom had started to read the newspaper again and looked up, as he heard steps again. When Hermione came into his view again, he watched her precisely. Whether suspicion or only curiosity, Tom couldn't tell at that moment, but she didn't recognize him anyway. The witch was too busy reading the first pages of the tome.

As she kept walking towards him, Tom coughed slightly and Hermione stopped immediately. She was staring at him wide-eyed.

"Good afternoon, my name is Tom Marvolo Riddle and I'm the Head-Boy." He stood up elegantly, stroking back his black hair, and then he stepped closer to her for shaking hands. But the witch didn't say a word; neither had she reacted to his gesture. Tom clasped his hands behind his back and studied her face. When he looked into her brown eyes he saw much more than they first met: to name at least one, self-confidence, but more surprisingly that she didn't trust him. And he had no idea why. The wizard raised an eyebrow and asked: "You aren't chatty, are you?" Hermione shut her book, but still looked at him.

How could he sit on her seat? She always sat at that table and on that chair when she was in Hogwarts. Honestly, Hermione knew that Riddle lived here for seven years, but it never entered her mind, he could have had the same favourite place in the library. And she did hope that this was just a terrible coincidence. The witch felt disgusted and queasy, only because of that thought.

Tom narrowed his eyes as he saw how pale her face was.

"Is it possible you don't talk to half-bloods and muggle-borns? Let me guess, you are far too good to have a conversation with people whose bloods aren't pure. Am I right? Well, my surname is the only thing which reminds me of my muggle-father. Pretty prejudiced, to estimate someone by the last name, don't you think? Oh, I forgot..." His voice didn't sound as polite as before, but cold and hurt too, as Hermione interrupted him sourly.

"I'm not a racist, Mister Riddle!" Tom was caught off guard, now it was his part to watch her in utter disbelief. "It's just a long time since I had my last normal conversation with someone, and it does feel strange somehow." Those with Harry didn't count, because they mostly had to do with the war. What shocked Hermione more was that she told him something about her past as if he were a normal human being and no psychopath with the purpose to murder thousands of innocent people."By the way, I'm Hermione Jean Seymour." The witch bit her tongue not to say Granger, as she always did.

"You're a new student." Tom mumbled and didn't know what else to talk about.

"Of course I am, don't be stupid." Hermione couldn't stop herself and felt awkward out of a sudden. It might be not the best idea to insult Voldemort on the very first school day. Teasing the Future Dark Lord felt... she didn't find the words for it.

Riddle started grinning amused: "And bold too." Hermione glared at him as he added: "Anyway, do you really think I'm dumb enough to believe your obvious excuse?"

"I think you're clever enough to know when someone is telling you a lie," the witch shot back and Riddle seemed bemused.

"Maybe you don't believe me, when I say, that half-bloods are as good as pure-bloods," he sounded arrogant, and Hermione supposed that this could be because no one gave him the feeling of being equal before. "As you know, that every wizard and witch has different talents..." Hermione began and saw how furious the wizard got, "it is possible that half-bloods and also muggle-borns are much better than pure-bloods." Tom said nothing, he just listened with interest. All his anger was gone.

"And, you must know, my best friend Harry is a half-blood. And I've never seen a wizard, neither a witch, especially no pure-blood, who is as outstanding, talented and extraordinary as he is." She wished him a good day, although she couldn't tell why she did it, and left with the book in her hands the library.

Hermione left Tom Marvolo Riddle speechless, which didn't happen often. So the wizard decided to have his eye on her.

In the evening Harry walked into the Great Hall. As he entered the room, the wizard looked at the empty Gryffindor table and stopped thoughtfully. He caught himself going to his former house, which hurt more than it did in the headmaster's office. Harry didn't understand what had changed to be sorted into Slytherin. Nonetheless, his entire life wasn't how he had known it. This wasn't his time. This wasn't his home. And there at the table didn't sit his friends. They weren't even born yet. Potter sighed frustrated and finally managed his way to the snakes.

As Harry was sitting, he looked around. This Hogwarts looked similar to that in his time, but he didn't feel comfortable at all. Harry felt lost and alone, the hours at the Black Lake without Hermione had shown it. He knew he wasn't really nice to his best friend, the last one alive, but what did Hermione think, Harry should do?

This was an exceptional situation, a different one in comparison with the last years. Harry found this more difficult than fighting. He couldn't wait and watch Lord Voldemort rise. He swore it to himself he wouldn't, but at first, he needed a plan, a new strategy. And when the time had come, he would need his entire energy to win.

Failing once more... He didn't want to think of it. He lost too much. Harry lost too many. In that moment, he wished — maybe more than ever — his beloved Ginny was with him.

As the Potter heard voices, he looked to the winged doors. Many students rushed into the Great Hall, laughing, chatting and joking. Most of them were innocent, young magicians who would never harm a fly. Most of them, Harry knew it better, when he thought of the first Death Eaters who grew up in 1944 with his worst enemy Voldemort. The Potter felt the anger and the bitterness pumping through his veins, as he remembered once more, what this man had done.

Lost in his own thoughts Harry didn't recognise the students sitting next to him, neither the whispering. Headmaster Dippet welcomed the new students and the sorting began, which Harry hardly noticed.

The Potter was totally caught in his own past with Ron and Neville at his side.

They were at Diagon Alley and left the Leaky Cauldron, as the office of the Daily Prophet exploded. Many were screaming. The three wizards whipped their wands out and ran to the burning building. "Stupefy!" Neville ducked immediately and looked after his friends. Ron was okay as well as Harry.

"Rodolphus, darling, you have to practice your accuracy," Bellatrix laughed insanely and spelled the Anti-Disapparition Jinx. Ron yelled 'Incarcerous' as he saw Lucius flourishing his wand, but the opponent used Protego. Incatena hit Neville, while Harry shot a curse at Bellatrix. Ron sidestepped Malfoys hex and burnt Lucius cloak, so the Weasley had time to free Neville. The black smoke made it difficult to see anyway, as Rodolphus disappeared in the fume. "Harry!" Ron couldn't see his best friend either. He didn't answer. Harry was too busy hunting Bellatrix. He had a score to settle with her, and not only because of Molly.

Harry had missed the singing as well.

The wizard looked puzzled to the left, as a student asked him, if he wasn't hungry at all. "Pardon?" was all Harry could answer, still thinking of Neville who they had lost that day. Longbottom died painfully because of Rodolphus Lestrange, who fled terribly injured. The Daily Prophet had burnt down completely that day and a lot had to go to St. Mungo's Hospital.

The student laughed and continued. "It's not easy attending a new school, huh? I'm Dolohov." Harry looked at him for one more moment, then he introduced himself: "Evans. Harry James Evans."

As the Potter looked around, he noticed that all the first Death Eaters were sitting around him: Malfoy, Lestrange, Avery, Nott, Mulciber, Rosier. Only Riddle is missing, Harry thought, but didn't know if this was good or bad. Then Malfoy handed him pork and mashed potatoes. The Potter thanked grinning, while thinking: "One day you'll regret it."

In fact, in a family like this, Draco had never had the chance to become something else than a prat. The only good thing of Draco was that he knew the difference between good and evil. Draco was a coward, yes. He feared the Dark Lord more than anything else, but he was brave enough to save lives.

"And which school did you attend?" was the next question.

"I was home-schooled," Harry informed flatly and looked to Nott, who nodded pensively. The Potter had racked his brain the whole morning to tell a good lie.

"And why did you decide to come to Hogwarts?" Mulciber looked to Harry, who shrugged.

"You know, you can't plan everything."

Then the Head-Boy came along and greeted almost trustworthily friendly: "Hey guys!" He sat down between Rosier and Avery, while he ran his fingers through his black hair. "How was travelling? Are you all fine?" As Harry heard this and the extremely nice answers Riddle got, he wanted to vomit, although he carried it off well. His profound aversion to Riddle was ineffable big. Harry started eating, and tried not to look at him again, otherwise it could be that he lost his temper. Harry heard that they talked about summer holidays, while Riddle mostly listened. Well, the summer holidays in an Orphanage couldn't be much interesting, besides Riddle hated muggles. So why should he want to talk about it?

"And you are a new student too?" Riddle looked at Harry, who held his gaze and nodded slightly. "I would say so." Tom started smirking. "And you were sorted into the best house of whole Hogwarts. Congratulations!" Harry knew Riddle's voice sounded too sweet to mean it honest. As Harry didn't react, Malfoy explained: "Well, only the best wizards and witches come to Slytherin. Those with the purest blood, those with—"

"I'm not a pure-blood," Harry interrupted promptly and wanted to slap himself. This wasn't the best idea.

They all stared at him in disbelief; the Potter didn't feel comfortable at all.

"You're a blood-traitor!?" Rosier spit, but flinched as Riddle looked daggers at him. Harry rolled his eyes. "I hadn't my pick of being a half-blood, so no." Harry wasn't hungry anymore, so he stood up. "However... if you have any problems because I'm a half-blood, let me know."

"Oh, you can be sure, that you won't have a good time here!" Harry looked at the witch who said that. He supposed she must be Snape's future-mother and then he grinned:

"Promise?"

The Potter knew she wanted to add something, but didn't have the bottle to do it.

As Harry left the table, he heard the whispering — and the wizard knew that all eyes were focused on him. It didn't matter much anyway. Then he saw his best friend leaving the Great Hall. "Hermione, wait!" he shouted and the witch stopped and smiled at him.

Riddle stared to the doors, although the two were long gone. "Now you're not the only half-blood anymore, Riddle?" the witch sounded mischievously, sneering at him. Riddle gave her a blank look, but deep inside he was apoplectic with rage.

"Do you think this is funny?" Riddle answered sweetly, "Well, may I inform you that I'm much better than you are, although I'm not pure-blooded. To be honest, you're not able to fasten your shoes much less you're able to cast a spell." The last sentence sounded arrogant, and Tom felt much better as he saw into her watery eyes. Then he started talking to his friends. And Riddle decided to keep an eye on both, Seymour and this new wizard.

Harry and Hermione lay on a couch in the Room of Requirements and looked to the ceiling. "I'm sorry, Hermione," Harry told her after a while. The witch looked at her best friend and smiled. "Already forgiven and forgotten," she mumbled gently. Then the room was silent again.

"Did you get everything you needed?" Harry wanted to know, after a few minutes, because he couldn't bear the quietness any longer. "Well, I got quills and parchments and ink. I needn't look for the books, because you were so nice to bring it, when you were at Diagon Alley two days ago. And yeah, I got a school uniform at Hogsmeade this morning." Harry nodded and whipped a passport from his pocket. "That's yours." the wizard added bluntly and looked into Hermione's brown eyes. He managed that they had new ones, not only because theirs weren't useful anymore. Who had passports with a date of birth of 1980 in the 1940's? Yes, no one, except time travellers. And nobody needed to know that.

Instead, Harry had told the magician at the office that the old passports and birth certificates were burnt in a big fire in Brighton as Grindelwald attacked them. Seemingly this was enough information for the man. Well, it may have helped that Dumbledore was with Harry.

After another few minutes Granger asked while looking into his green eyes: "Harry, what shall we do now?" He didn't answer instantly. "We'll see..."