Disclaimer: I can only claim Poppy and Prof. Merrythought's backstory as well as Winifred, Mervin, and Michael. The rest belongs to the queen, JKR.

IMPORTANT:

If you read chapter one when I first published it but haven't read my update yet, please please go back to chapter one to read the note. I've replaced the chapter and the note has important information as to why..

CHAPTER TWO. OUR LOVELY CAST

Having been concerned that this was really Voldemort back from the dead and playing tricks on him, Harry had a hard time getting a restful sleep. So when morning came, and there were whispers from what sounded like his roommates, Harry wasn't too alarmed. He just wished they kept more quiet and maybe left him alone. He thought maybe if he kept pretending to sleep they'd leave him alone to hunt down the ritual or his true love and not get killed again by Voldemort in the process.

"Oy who's this bloke?" said a roommate, really loudly.

Immediately the others shushed the source of annoyance, but Harry decided to actually wake up anyway. He opened his eyes and there were several boys standing around his bed trying to look at his face. Apparently the sound came from a ginger boy, probably a Weasley. A pang of homesickness hit Harry hard, and he wondered if he was betraying Ginny by being here and thinking of the pretty yet still sort of unattainable Winnie. Maybe he should just go home. Hermione must have made a mistake. So far, other than three old men, Harry has only met a witch who prefers witches and a monster by the name of Tom Riddle. Wasn't the ritual supposed to take him straight to his true love? Maybe the potion went wrong due to taking place in the Room of Requirement or just in Hogwarts in general. Or maybe he drew the ritual lines wrong. Or maybe he was given bad instructions by Hermione.

He'd think about it later, there's only so much time he could dwell on it and lie in bed while a bunch of Gryffindors stared anxiously for him to 'get out of being drowsy' and fully acknowledge their presence.

Apparently the probably-Weasley couldn't wait any longer because he spoke again, "Well, go on then! What's your name?"

"I'm... Harry..." he said while grabbing his new-like glasses off the nearby nightstand.

"Good to meet you, Harry," said another boy, who was standing away from Harry's bed and near his own, leaning against a post. "I'm Bartemius Crouch, but you can call me Barty; everyone does anyway." Harry didn't know Crouch was a Gryffindor. "Sorry about him-" Crouch lifted his chin to indicate the ginger, "- he's a Weasley."

Harry couldn't help it. He laughed, relieving a lot of tension from before.

"Oy! I deserve a name, you know! I'm Mervin. Mervin Weasley." The boy gave a wide grin, freckles prominently shining on his cheeks due to the morning light.

"You can be Weasley No. 3 when I take over the government," suggested Crouch.

"That's a good number," said a brown haired boy near Harry. "You should take it, Mervin."

"He's the oldest of two," said another boy at the foot of his bed, who then decided to sit on Harry's bed as they all chatted. "It's just him and Gawain but they have a large extended family."

"I heard from my mother, that Cedrella is going to have another son. I bet his name will be Arthur."

"You lie!"

"Ten galleons that's the case."

"You're on!"

"Weasley, you don't have ten galleons to your name."

And as Harry watched this bantering he smiled. He could get used to this. It must mean that this Mervin was probably one of Ron's uncles, maybe even the drunk one from the wedding. They were still going back and forth when there was a knock on their doors. "Breakfast, boys!" came a gentle female voice through it.

"Yes, mother!"

The boys started leaving and someone shouted a "We'll wait for you in the common room." Genuinely excited, Harry who had slept in his uniform, just got up to wash up quickly before catching up.

As he came down the stairs, he heard: "Oh my word. I thought you boys were playing some sort of joke. There is a new Gryffindor," from the female voice he heard earlier. Finding the source of the sound, his eyes met a very petite girl with a small face but sharp features. She had thin light brown hair that reached mid neck and her hair was tucked behind her ears. Her chin was held upright, quite confident in spite of being half the size of the Gryffindor boys around her. Harry thought she was demure in a cute way. And since when was he so interested in women so easily? He was never like this back home. Was it the potion's effects? Everyone was gathered waiting for him.

"You know, Poppy," said a tall black boy from the dorm earlier, "You should really believe us when we tell you things more often-"

WHACK. "Ow!" Poppy must have grabbed the Prophet on the nearby table because she had just smacked Mervin over the head with it.

And it occurred to Harry that this could be That Poppy. Madame Pomfrey of the Hospital Wing. Poppy Pomfrey? He could have sworn she would have been a Hufflepuff or a Ravenclaw. He can't just assume everyone looks like people from the future when they could have relatives he didn't know about.

"What was that for?! I wasn't even saying anything! You're supposed to hit Michael!" Poppy didn't look regretful in the least while Mervin simply rubbed his head where she hit it.

"Michael" covered his mouth as he snickered to himself while Poppy whacked Mervin a second time, albeit with less force.

"You started the nickname, you deal with the consequences," she said curtly. "Come on. Let's go. Harry, we'll show you to the Great Hall." She made a move to turn towards the portrait before turning to look at Harry again. "My name is Pippa, by the way. I'm The Head Girl at Hogwarts. I'm a bit surprised no one notified me that a new student needed a guide."

He followed after them, realizing he's supposed to be pretending to be new. During the walk, the Gryffindor seventh years chatted amicably. Or well it seemed like the entire seventh year's boys dorm and Pippa did. Unless Pippa was the only seventh year girl in Gryffindor? A bunch of boys surrounding one girl. That had to be strange looking from a third party perspective.

At the confused look on Harry's face, Michael seemed to be able to guess what it was for: "Poppy had a rough time getting along with her fellow Gryff girls back in first year so we sort of brought her in. In turn, she mother hens in us and makes sure we all get our homework done."

Harry nodded, smiling. He never knew Poppy and Hermione were so similar. Both caring, lovely people. Intelligent to the core and completely willing to call people out on their horrible behavior. If he didn't know any better, he would have thought that Poppy and Mervin would end up married or dating one day. Unless Poppy kept her maiden name? Harry didn't hear of that happening at all, though perhaps Muggleborns would do it. Was Poppy a Muggleborn? That would raise the level of similarities to an unusual high.

Harry briefly entertained the thought that Hermione came with him and had been living as Poppy Pomfrey this entire time as a consequence of her time turner.

As they walked in, Harry passively scanned the room, only to realize that Tom Riddle was staring at their group, or maybe straight at Harry. Harry wanted nothing to do with Voldemort. If his true love was in this era he would either take her with him or kill of Voldemort before the Horcrux problem got too involved. Thank goodness the one in his scar was already taken care of. He didn't have to die again. Harry focused on Poppy's backside.

"So, Harry, do you play?" Michael asked.

"Play what?" Harry returned, having to look up at Michael.

Michael laughed. "Quidditch of course! I'm team captain. It's early enough in the year that we haven't started tryouts yet so you've still got a chance. You're small but you seem to be hiding some power under those robes." He seemed to be squinting at Harry as if trying to see what Harry's form was like.

Harry wasn't sure about joining the team. He really wanted to, but the last thing he needed was records written in the Hall of Trophies that a Harry Potter was playing for the Gryffindor team back in the 1940s. Michael's words reminded him that he should probably determine what the exact date was some time soon. "I do play but I don't know if I should try out. I'm not really supposed to be drawing too much attention to myself..." Michael's face fell. "But I do love flying. Maybe a pick up game some time? I played seeker."

Michael seemed to cheer up at that.

It seemed perhaps Dippet was waiting for Harry to come in because not too longer after, there was a light tapping of a spoon on a goblet sourced from the head table. At once all chatter stopped and the students turned. Professor Dippet rose from his seat; all eyes were on him.

"It is usually too early in the day for announcements, but lest I mention it now, the rumor wills would have created wild stories before dinner could come. Please allow me to introduce Mr. Harium Key..."

Harry felt rather than saw Riddle lose his composure for a fraction of a second at the absurdity. So short no one else would have noticed but Harry was so in tune with Riddle's magic, it wasn't hard to notice the brief leak of magic.

"... who insists that you call him Harry. He will be attending classes and attempting to catch up on schooling. Professors Dumbledore and Slughorn have volunteered to help. He was rescued from the war efforts, and as his family roots can be traced to British soil, please give a warm welcome home."

There was an applause from the three-quarters-filled room, from students very shocked to receive a new student. Mervin whooped next to him, while Pippa/Poppy patted him cheerfully on his shoulder. Harry could have sworn five copies of Hogwarts: A History appeared on the Ravenclaw table as students tried to determine how rare of an occurrence this was. And there were suddenly whispered theories of how he came to be a "rescue." Looks like things never changed for him. This was far too much attention for his liking and he quickly drank some pumpkin juice so people got the hint and stopped staring.

After breakfast, "We have Defense first. Let's go, come on!" said an eager Barty Crouch. His excitement was uncharacteristic, but what did he know of Crouch anyway? Harry noticed a sudden grim expression on Poppy's face. He would have thought the perhaps future-Mediwitch would appreciate learning defense.

Harry's Defense Against the Dark Arts class was taught by Professor Merrythought who was nothing he could have imagined. From her name it seemed as if she was going to be a happy cheery woman like Pomona Sprout. Maybe a little chubby, with rosy cheeks and the like.

Instead, he noticed students perhaps unconsciously filing in somewhat like a military as they entered the classroom. Not a single person took their seats yet. From the uniforms, he noted this class was shared with Slytherins, and Harry positioned himself between the large Michael and the more attention drawing Mervin. He had enough attention and here he wasn't even the Boy Who Lived or the Chosen One. But it appeared to be for naught because the professor who was standing straight, arms clasped behind her back was following Harry the entire time. She had a prominent chin, her greying brown hair tied up in a tight low bun.

Harry tried to show no fear.

"You may be seated." Promptly all students sat.

"Mr. Key," she started almost immediately. He knew it was coming. This couldn't be good. "As you are a new student, I find myself interested in testing you, as I am unaware of how good of a defense student you may be. Would you care for a demonstration?" At least she wasn't Snape during first year.

"Certainly," Harry said, prepared to fake moderate training. Harry got up awkwardly to head to the front of the classroom, but the moment he stood from his seat, a blue light shot towards him.

As he was again in enemy territory - stupid Riddle -, he had been on alert all day. He was much more prepared than he was last night. Without wasting a moment, he leaped over the desk to dodge the danger and from a crouching position sent a stunner back at the source of the attack less than a moment later. Harry proceeding to shuffle to another spot, wand at the ready.

Yet, no more spells came. And he heard no other movement, not even from the students who remained seated in their desks. And the stunner he sent hadn't gotten to their target, his mind finally caught up to his body and pointed out that the stunner had ricocheted innocently to the back of the classroom.

Professor Merrythought was clapping. Then the whole class was as well.

Another applause in less than an hour? Way to not draw attention to yourself, Potter.

Harry realized that this was the test, and allowed his body the luxury of relaxing while he was on the floor. As he stood up, he noticed his classmates watching him both in fear and in awe.

The corner of Merrythoughts lips turned up. "Very good, I find myself doubting that you had to be rescued at all...," she said, the words of doubt hanging in the air. Maybe this ruse would be more difficult than Harry assumed. "Five points to Gryffindor. You should consider joining the Auror Academy when you graduate." The coincidence was not lost on Harry. "There is a Battle Club that meets Friday late afternoon. Please sign up from your common room bulletin."

That also didn't sound like an optional from her tone.

Knowing a dismissal when he heard it, Harry brushed off dirt from his uniform, danger no longer being an issue and walked to his desk. Barty, mouth slightly ajar, looked at him as if he was seeing Harry for the first time. That's disturbing. Inspired by Harry it seemed, Merrythought spent the next period lecturing about the importance of hiding places and vigilance during times of war.

When it ended, everything at first seemed normal. As students were leaving the classroom, Merrythought said, "Pippa, please stay after class."

Harry didn't think that sounded good at all. Poppy didn't look happy about the request either, and her group shared worried glances. They all shuffled out anyway.

As the door shut with just Poppy and Merrythought in the classroom, Harry saw Pippa's head already bent down in apprehension. Harry looked to the others. "What's going on? Pippa hadn't said a word the entire period. Is Merrythought dangerous?"

A few of the group had confused faces. Michael had raised eyebrows. "Oh, you don't know." He shook his head. "Of course you wouldn't... Merrythought is Poppy's mum."

Poppy was Pippa Merrythought? Poppy was the daughter of a borderline battle hungry defense professor? Maybe this wasn't the same Poppy Pomfrey he would love like a mother decades later. She looked similar to Poppy Pomfrey though. After Harry finished processing his thoughts, which admittedly took a lot longer than he was expecting, Poppy stepped out, looking thoroughly admonished and slightly teary. "Let's go," she said forcefully as they walked over to Herbology.

When they got on the grounds on the way to the greenhouses, Mervin said, "Poppy, what was that about? AGH- "

Michael punched Mervin in the gut, and Mervin, partially caved in, started grumbling about how it's not okay when Michael does it because he has muscles from being a Beater.

"It's okay. Mum gave me a tongue lashing because she found out I didn't sign up for Battle Club yet. Said I can't expect to head the DMLE one day if I don't do the right extracurriculars... And demanded I sign up tonight."

"You told her that you didn't want to go into law enforcement, right?" Michael asked. Yes, Poppy in law enforcement would have been particularly unusual. More so if this was the future Poppy Pomfrey. Though he thought it would be amusing to see Poppy hitting Dark Wizards with her wand. This wasn't the time nor the place, however. She was clearly upset at the confrontation.

Five steps of silence. "... No..."

One of the guys whom Harry still didn't know the name of rubbed Poppy's shoulder in a placating manner. "You'll have another chance."

Three steps of silence. Harry coughed. "So, uh, Pippa, what did you want to do after graduation?"

"I'm not sure," she said sadly. "I'm book smart but I'm not very quick with a wand. Mum knows that but she's in denial. She's been hinting that I take the paper track of being in the DMLE but I don't want to do that either."

"She only wants what's best for you," Crouch said, not really helping at all. Harry was reminded of Crouch's future as a Head of the DMLE. The unnamed boy rolled his eyes and stage whispered to Harry that Barty was slightly obsessed with Professor Merrythought.

"Maybe I'll go into teaching," Poppy provided. "I'm pretty good with Charms, Herbology, and Potions."

Harry wanted to suggest healing but bit his tongue.

He still wasn't completely sure this was his Poppy Pomfrey. If she was, he was sure Poppy would discover healing on her own anyway.

Herbology came and went mostly without event.

There was a smiling, thin almost frail blonde girl with short slightly curled hair who tried to sit next to Harry but Crouch took the chair and uncharacteristically said, "Shove it, Ellie!" The nice and friendly looking girl, still smiling, gave Crouch a rude gesture before sitting with the other Gryffindor females.

It was after lunch when Harry finally had some alone time, everyone going their separate ways for their free period. Apparently the group wasn't completely stuck like glue, they were just together for the standard classes and meals.

Harry decided to head to the loo. And while there he was finally able to check the date. He knew according to his Time Table that it was either a Monday or a Wednesday but needed more detail. Turns out, it was September 8, 1943. A Wednesday.

That would make it Riddle's sixth year, Harry calculated before admonishing himself for once again making Voldemort the center of his universe. And then as he was washing his hands, he was reminded that Moaning Myrtle had just died less than a year ago.

Had she even laid claim to her bathroom yet? Harry was curious. But he shouldn't have to be. If he was just a few months early...and if he was allowed to change the course of history Myrtle wouldn't have been there when The Basilisk was out again. And if Myrtle hadn't died, Hagrid wouldn't have been expelled.

His hands clenched. Tom Riddle did so much damage and he had only just taken his OWLS last year.

"Something the matter?" said a smooth and familiar voice from a few feet away. Speak of the devil and he shall appear: Tom Riddle, in the flesh.

Harry controlled his expression to be impassive before turning around, his wand in his sleeve ready to be used if necessary.

"You're very on guard aren't you, Key?" Riddle said, not even trying to reach for his wand. He was leaning on the door, casually. As if he was untouchable.

Harry didn't rise to the bait. Was Riddle looking for him? If he needed to use the loo, the entire bathroom was empty. So he said as if there was nothing wrong, "If you're here for the loo and need me to leave, I could step out for you."

Tom didn't even blink. "Funny."

The air was tense. Probably a full five seconds of them staring each other passed, Tom looking as if he were calculating something and Harry trying to keep off an expression of pure hate, before Tom pulled out what Harry supposed was his usually most effective charming smile. "We got off on the wrong foot the other night." Was that all Riddle thought it was? In his perspective that would make sense, Harry surmised. "Of course you wouldn't have known about a curfew if you had just gotten to Hogwarts...

"How about I make it up to you by teaching you a spell some time?"

Private lessons with a dark lord in training. Joy. The idea of a private lesson with Tom Riddle sent a tingling feeling up Harry's spine. It felt like chills, but warm, instead. Either way, it made him feel completely on edge. He had to leave. But Riddle either didn't notice Harry's displeasure or noticed and wanted to keep going anyway.

Riddle continued, "The headmaster said you'd be getting private tutoring with Dumbledore and Slughorn. But besides teaching core curriculum and being heads of houses, Dumbledore's deputy duties.. Slughorn's Slug Club, I can't imagine them having too much free time on their hands."

It was oh, so rational. But Harry wasn't falling for it... whatever 'it' and his intentions could possibly be. The easy way Riddle manipulated was too frightening.

"Thanks, but no thanks." Harry turned his body away to signal the end of the conversation and walk out. He glanced up at Riddle just to make sure he wouldn't try anything, and Riddle still had a friendly mask on, but his eyes were still cold and calculating as they followed Harry. Tom Marvolo Riddle was so clearly a psychopath and it was like only he and Dumbledore could see it.

Over the rest of the day, Harry learned a few more things. One of the Gryffindors in his year was a half-blood named Ben Solomon who was obsessed with the overlaps of World War II and the Grindelwald War. Apparently he had Jewish cousins living in Germany and he desperately wanted to become of age to help his family survive. ("One part of me is glad I'm safe in Hogwarts, but I've got family to protect, and if it means I have to Apparate into a warzone to do it, I will." This prompted Poppy to throw a mountain of cake in front of Solomon to distract him from thoughts of war.)

Michael, whose surname was Johnson like Harry's former Quidditch teammate, was apparently dating Ravenclaw fifth year prefect Grace Shacklebolt.

After dinner and getting "instructions" on how to get to the library, Harry attempted to find the book on German history. He looked in the appropriate section and looked for the red book with the ugly brown trimming with the title he had seen before. Deutsche G.. 18... something something. He pulled out several books that looked like the target, only to panic after spending nearly an hour in the stacks. It wasn't there. Why wasn't it there?

It was his source of freedom. Either to return back to Ginny's arms – because he was sure she would take him back – or the knowledge that he could try to start something with someone here – or at least the knowledge that he was stuck here and just get used to this place. There were so much that needed answering and that book would be the source, he just knew it.

He hoped it wasn't checked out and it was perhaps placed somewhere else.

He went to the front desk to the librarian. "Excuse me, could you help me find a book on German history?"

The librarian raised an eyebrow. "Which one?"

"I'm not really sure... It was a red book with a little bit of brown in it?"

"Unfortunately that is not descriptive enough for me to identify it. What were the topics it covers? I can find something comparable."

"There was a ritual in it. I think it's about the 18th century."

The Madame thought. "I am unsure of how to help you. Perhaps you can try again in a week or two when the student who has it returns it. German history is a popular topic at the moment."

"Could you please hold the book when it gets returned? If you see it matching your description?"

"Certainly."

Cursing mentally, he said a thank you before heading out.

Worry descended on him. What if the book wasn't even written yet? He wasn't even sure of that. It's possible the book didn't exist, in which case the trio of old men would have to base it on Harry's pensieve memory and Harry wasn't even sure if he got enough of a glance of the book to really make a difference. Harry wanted to pull out his hair. He'd try again every day, as often as he can, for when the book shows up. In three weeks, he'd panic again.

It seemed like a waste of a trip when he saw a familiar face, sitting alone at a table. Winnie had her hair thrown over one shoulder, shoulders hunched as she leaned on her table. She was trying to crank out a paper, it appeared.

Winifred must have heard his footsteps and smiled as he approached her. Harry sat in front of her.

"Hey there! I can't believe you were a new student. How was your first day at Hogwarts as a student?"

"It's been great! My dormmates have been nothing but wonderful. I didn't mean to bother you though, what are you working on?"

Winnie was chewing on her quill. "Oh, hm. This? It's an early start on Slughorn's 10 inches on Felix Felicis. No worries."

Harry stared at the notebook beside her filled with circles and letters. That was definitely Muggle paper. There were so many Muggle notebooks he knew of in his life, and it was bothering him immensely that it was here. The cover was blue and grey, however. So it wasn't the horcrux. And of course, since it was with Winnie, it probably wouldn't have Riddle's name on it. She looked embarrassed by his staring. "It's great for keeping my thoughts in one place instead of binding my parchment after the fact. You don't have a problem with it do you? Muggle artifacts?"

Both of Harry's eyebrows went up. "Not at all. I just didn't realize you were Muggleborn."

"Oh. I'm not. I was raised in wizarding parts. The Joneses are my neighbors though I suppose you might not know the Joneses. My father is first generation pureblood and my mother is a muggleborn. But this notebook is actually a gift from Riddle."

Winifred Vance had to cover her mouth to keep from laughing at the look on Harry's face. There was no way Riddle gave a gift. None. Whatsoever.

"You must be joking."

"Well... to be precise, Riddle only returns the favor. And only because he would think it would cause a debt between the gifter and himself. Oh believe me, he is very, very good at gifting too," she said, smiling wide. Harry shook his head. "No, really. It's as if he has mental stores of information on everyone...

"It's quite sad really. In our first year or so people managed to discover that he does it, like the polite gentleman he is. And you see back then he was a plain old Muggleborn in Slytherin. His fellow Slytherins absolutely hated him for it. So when they realized Riddle gave back a gift no matter what, they made a game of it. They tried to eradicate the few sickles Riddle happened to have from his scholarship as a Ward of the school."

Harry couldn't imagine that working.

"Eventually they stopped. At first it was little comebacks. Adelon Carrow received a homemade ointment to enlarge a particular appendage.. if you know what I'm saying... And Georgia Parkinson who at the time didn't realize she had bad body odour got a bunch of sweet smelling flowers... all probably from picked from the surrounding plant life at the castle.

"This was all very public by the way. They came in by morning post. But the cruel attempts kept coming. Then one day an owl comes in with a package. Walburga Black got her gift. It was a beautifully crafted wooden box with runes written over it. The size of a large vase. At first no body could figure it out what on earth it could be. But one of the older Slytherins goes and looks at the runes and starts translating out loud. It was stuff like 'preservation' and 'rodents' and 'peace' before Abraxas Malfoy goes white - you know more than he normally is - and says '...it's a coffin.'

"Riddle who is completely indifferent and was buttering his toast goes 'I hope you get some use out of it, Walburga.' And Black suddenly bursts into tears and runs out of the Great Hall. No one bothered Riddle after that. I got the full story afterward... Apparently Walburga's owl was found torn to shreds by other animals the night before."

Harry was slackjawed. That was... that was...

Beautifully resourceful, finished one part of Harry. "That's terrifying," he said instead.

"Well, yes... in one sense of the word. Oh, and the best part of all of this is that Riddle effectively profited from the whole debacle. I think it's why it was dragged out so long. A lot of these were rich purebloods giving somewhat valuable things to him, and Riddle was giving them back items worth less than knuts each! I heard that dolt Jason Crabbe gave Riddle expensive jewelry. It's why the Riddle you see today isn't dressed in rags like he had back when we were all younger. He liquidated a lot of those possessions."

"I don't understand, how can you condone this?," Harry said softly. If the owl was discovered that evening.. well Harry supposed it was entirely possible that Riddle woke up early just to plot a very finishing revenge.

Winnie frowned, seeming to think while looking at Harry. "Come on, Harry. Come at it from a different angle. A bunch of rich, bullies were collectively picking on this twelve year old poor orphan Muggleborn. And not even just pick on... but intentionally trying to take what little he already had. Instead of getting physical, he smothers them into submission with just his intellect and magic. Not as if Riddle personally killed Black's owl just to make this all happen," Winnie waved her hand dismissively. "And you know to make it all worse, if it wasn't the purebloods who looked down on him for his blood status and the audacity of being sorted into Slytherin, it was a lot of others who discriminated against the house. After though, he became something like a Muggleborn hero."

Harry snorted mentally. Lord Voldemort, the role model of all Muggleborn students everywhere. "You say these things and yet you aren't friends?" he said seriously.

She shook her head. "No one is just friends with Riddle. He was always very quiet, and I admit he can be mean-spirited when people are in his way" – mean-spirted was putting it lightly, Harry thought – "but for the most part he's... friendly. Not a single student in this school has a problem with him now. The Slytherins all sort of changed their mind over the years.. he's somewhat like their king now, it's a bit unusual... but no. If anything, I would say he's my friend but I'm not his friend." She nodded, as if solidifying those words in her mind and went back to her studying.

The words ate away at Harry a little. To hear someone so genuinely nice like Winifred defending Tom Riddle... no one ever did that back where he was from...

At the same time though, she didn't know everything Harry did. One person's nice words wouldn't just change his mind about the monster hiding behind the mask. He said a brief, "I'll think about what you said," while she went back to scribbling some notes for her paper.

It's hard to tell someone that the person they're defending was actually a cold blooded murderer and was capable of causing a tragic "accident" like the death of an owl... that a 12 year old poor, orphan Muggle-raised – like usual, Harry ignored the similarities between them – but yet oh so brilliant could one day start a war over the mass-genocide of a people... that this same boy would one day kill his parents and attempt to kill Harry.

"One more thing?" Harry said.

"Yes?" And Winifred looked at him with those beautifully clear blue eyes and Harry forgot what he was saying momentarily.

"Um, I was wondering... I heard that there are these Hogsmeade weekends, and uhh... I know you said you aren't interested in wizards, but..."

She pieced together the implied request. "OH. Oh." She looked to be thinking about it seriously. "Well..." she trailed off again and suddenly, Winifred looked to be staring elsewhere. Harry started to follow her gaze but she slammed her books closed. "Look I have to go. We can... we can maybe talk about this some other time." And she said the next part in a hurried whisper, "You're sweet, Harry. It's why I like you but maybe later."

And she nearly ran out of the library.

A piece of parchment that must have flown off the table in her frenzy landed gently on the ground. He reached over and grabbed, noting it was the first few sentences of her paper before pocketing it to return to her later. He made a brief note to get a book bag soon.

But Harry leaned back, confused. Was she offended that he asked? He wasn't trying to mess with her sexual orientation just for fun... it was her who had mentioned yesterday evening that she would have made an exception for him. He got up, knowing tomorrow would bring some interesting classes. As he pushed in his seat, he looked into the spot that Winifred was looking at earlier.

And there was Tom Riddle, lounging on his side, his lean and tall body lying elegantly on the couch, while he propped himself up with an elbow. He was just... reading a book, but his body was completely facing Harry and Winnie's table. Riddle looked up and met Harry's gaze from across the library, and suddenly it was as if time stopped. Riddle's lips turned up slowly while staring back with great intensity.

And just like Winifred had just moments ago, Harry fled the library.

Hope you liked it! I really loved writing this chapter! It was so fun to put together. And sorry for making Tom Riddle seemed like an awful person, but remember both that Harry still believes he hates Voldemort to his core, and in canon, Tom Riddle has killed more than once at this point.