Harry stared down at the letter that rested within his hands, holding his breath while he digested the dread and annoyance that filled him slowly, like a poison spreading throughout his body. A student had brought this message to him only a few minutes ago on request, and now that he was alone, Harry had time to read and think about it. It was from Slughorn, and it suggested, amongst a few useless words of welcome, that Harry should join what was even now known as 'The Slug Club'.

It wasn't the idea of being forced back into many dull evenings full of conversation that annoyed Harry enough to worry about this, it was merely that he knew Riddle would be in every one of those Slug Club meetings, only too eager to torturously engage Harry into conversations with the help of Slughorn. Tom had been relatively civil in leaving Harry alone as he disappeared for hours on end, but Harry knew that this would simply be too good a chance for Riddle to pass by in his future efforts to learn about Harry.

The first Slug Club meeting was in half an hour. Harry was sure that Slughorn had made the time between this letter arriving and the meeting so close to be sure that Harry couldn't reply with a long and polite answer of 'No, I don't want to join the Slug Club'. Slughorn knew even now Harry was not the type to wish or crave any form of social interaction, so this was a wise way to trap him. The Professor was no doubt trying to make the sympathy he felt towards Harry even plainer past the terribly embarrassing comments and looks already given in potions class. Perhaps – if chance were to suddenly favour Harry as it used to – these meetings would put an end to all Slughorn's concern and sympathy … yet this still wasn't much of a consolation.

When Harry arrived, reluctantly, to Slughorn's office just under half an hour after the arrival of the letter, he saw most of the Slug Club members already seated in the room, beginning conversations. To Harry's great dismay, he found that everyone within the room sat and talked in a way that was extremely similar to how it had been in Slughorn's memories, with the exception of a few new faces for the new year. They were shuffled around a little, but Slughorn sat in the same comfortable winged armchair next to a table with a goblet upon it, and again Riddle seemed to be the person in the room who appeared the most relaxed…

Avery, Lestrange and even Nott had made it into the Slug Club, but Harry already expected this from the past memory. They, as Death Eaters, sat close to or right next to their leader, stationed in a way that hinted of protection. The other boys within the Slug Club must have noticed or expected this from experience, because their glances towards the group were always with careful hesitancy. Slughorn himself was blind. Not even a shadow of doubt towards Riddle's 'greatness' appeared to cross his face, not when he held potions class and certainly not now as he spoke with the handsome boy. He was even smiling.

Had he somehow forgotten about the event of Riddle asking about Horcruxes? Harry couldn't see how that was possible, for the memory was by no stretch of the imagination etched deeply into his own mind. The question being asked along with a million memories of Horcruxes to go with it flicked past his mind's eye like film whenever he set his eyes upon Riddle. Anxiety followed soon after these memories, so as Harry stood here, watching Riddle's body language become a shadow of what it once was, he felt as though he was going to be sick.

He half expected the words: 'Sir, is it true that Professor Merrythought is retiring?" to slide carefully from the lips of Riddle as he rested his right hand elegantly on the arm of his chair, but of course the words would not be repeated again now. Harry watched and saw that Riddle was being ever so slightly more careful with the ring, more so than he had been in the memory… It was easier to see it, now that he was in the same room.

Only a few seconds had passed since Harry arrived at this gathering, yet it felt like more to him. When Slughorn spoke, Harry felt as though he had been staring at Riddle for too long a time, and he hastily pulled his gaze away. Tom looked at him the second he looked away.

"Ah, Smith! How good it is to finally see you with the rest of the Slug Club. Do come in," Slughorn said beaming. Harry had no choice but to walk further into the room and slide into the nearest empty chair without comment. "What a fine addition to this group you will be!"

Harry himself could not quite agree with Slughorn's last words, and he still made no comment. He could sense that questions about him where going to be asked soon. He would see it in the eyes of all the Slug Club members watching him. Slughorn took a sip from the goblet in his hands whilst smiling, somehow, and then placed the goblet upon the table next to him so as to give Harry his full attention.

"Where to begin with such a new addition?" Slughorn began. In his walrus-like way, he leant back in his chair, smiling with content as he surveyed Harry carefully. "It is a true rarity that Hogwarts receives such a late arrival, but I don't see why I couldn't get to know you as well as any of my other students. You seem to have an interesting enough past – an unexplained tale. Tell me boy, is it true that the Ministry suggested you come to Hogwarts?"

Harry paused, trying to decide upon an answer to this question. He decided to go with truth, for a lie would mean a whole new explanation, and he wasn't in the mood to lie in front of so many onlookers, eager to tell the rest of the school what was heard here. "Erm, yeah."

"Why was it that they chose such a fate for you even so late?"

"Er, well, I move around the country a lot, sir. My whole life I've never stayed in the same place for long. I was brought to the Ministry one day because I met a Wizard who worked there, who was sceptical about me because he was doing a random check for ID, and I of course didn't have one. Erm, they found out that I didn't attend a school, but I told them I'm already educated and all. Either way, they sent me to come to Hogwarts… they said this year is the most important."

Harry heard Avery, Nott and Lestrange laugh very quietly together as though sharing a privet joke, and guessed that they all knew and realised he was somewhat lying. He didn't care about that though, for he knew that they'd only find some pride in knowing – or thinking that they knew – one of his secrets.

"Naturally, naturally." Slughorn said. "I'm glad none the less that the Ministry is doing well in checking people for identification. Merlin knows how the world would be now if we couldn't tell who was foreign and who wasn't."

Slughorn have a short, gruff cough or laugh that Harry was sure implied disapproval. He wasn't sure why Slughorn had made such a gesture, even as he noticed the students within the room mumbling words of agreement. It reminded Harry of how Uncle Vernon used to speak about his magical abilities, and how Aunt Petunia and Dudley used to agree, so Harry remained silent, wondering why it was that Slughorn might be rude to people who aren't strictly English. He had never seemed xenophobic in Harry's experience… Could he have somehow missed that fact before? Every student besides Harry had agreed on this comment, and many of them were having quiet conversations on the matter now, including Riddle and the Death Eaters.

As Harry looked around at the Slug Club members more carefully, he realised for the first time that there were no girls present. Even the many pictures of previous Slug Club members displayed not one female student. This all made Harry feel a bit edgy, for it told him again about how different the nineteen forties were compared to the nineteen nineties. He soon remembered, after thinking about what year it was, that World War II was still going on. He felt a little relieved – at least that explained the xenophobia. The sexism couldn't be helped right now, but at least Harry knew that he hadn't completely misunderstood who Slughorn was … It was only because of that war, it wasn't the same as the situation as with Dumbledore's past …

"That don't really matter to us though, does it sir?" Avery asked the Professor. "It's only the Muggles who have to suffer."

"Now, now Avery, you shouldn't give such a comment so lightly." Yet Slughorn didn't seem too bothered by this. He still looked content and comfortable even on such a momentous subject, and Harry wondered if the Wizard World cared about the Muggle World War at all. His question was soon answered as Slughorn carried on, "We still have to suffer quite a bit of mayhem, and not only when Muggleborns go home to all that danger. Attacks have been made on Magical buildings and so on. By accident, mostly, or a misfortunate aim, but nevertheless it's effecting everyone."

"I think it's a dreadful thing, the war," a boy sitting three seats to Harry's right said. "It doesn't matter whether it's Muggles or Wizards dying, it's still horrible. They're still human." The boy glanced over to the Death Eaters once or twice as he said this, evidently not confident that he was allowed to say this.

"Very true, very true," Slughorn agreed.

"Actually, Professor," Riddle began, "though I myself find that though wars are often a frightful event, the grounds on which they are based are a rather important significance to how the world must work, how the world stands as it is. Wars are never lacking in morals … Even if the Wizarding World were to have a war it would be for the greatest of reasons only."

"True," Slughorn agreed, "but there hasn't yet been a war amongst Wizards – not a World War anyway – so perhaps a world is better off without any of it. The Wizarding World is far better as it is, compared to how the Muggles are doing. We live without the bother of worrying about people dying."

Riddle gave Slughorn a few seconds to make him believe he had a point, before contradicting the opinions given. "But isn't it important in some situations, Professor, to start a war? If the opposing government that one wants to fight against won't acknowledge the facts or opinions of one's own cause, per se, wouldn't war be amongst the most effective ways to tell the world of something? Even if people die because of it, there are too many other important points to such a fight. The opinions of the world would be very one sided, if there was a complete lack of revolt."

Slughorn frowned as he thought about this, and Harry stared at the people holding this conversation in disbelief. Here Riddle was, attempting to convince Slughorn that wars weren't all that bad, that people died for good reason. Riddle was even telling the Professor that he was all for war if and when 'the opposing government that one wants to fight against won't acknowledge the facts or opinions of one's own cause'. That was basically screaming 'I'll start a war one day if people won't listen to me' in Harry's opinion. Harry knew that Slughorn couldn't possibly guess what war, or two wars the boy in front of him would start one day, but it still seemed a tad obvious to Harry. Riddle didn't even have the moral sense to make this a private conversation; he was speaking to the room at large with no hesitation to have his opinions heard.

"You're still rather young, Riddle. There are many complications in the case of wars that you don't understand." Harry hoped that meant that Slughorn disagreed, but knew it that probably wasn't the case, for Slughorn was still smiling in his content way. This obviously didn't affect him at all as a subject. "Wars can certainly seem like a easy way to be heard – especially from the view of the person starting the war – but mostly commonly it's a last resort. Splendid though it would be to be always agreed with, that's not a common outcome. It's in one side getting angry with the other side that starts a war. No one likes his opinions disregarded, particularly when it is that he has worked hard in making his own side believe all of his words. But wars are never really planned. Never agreed upon."

Harry was surprised to see that Riddle wasn't annoyed in being lectured on such obvious point. He just agreed with a polite smile as if he hadn't known this all. He continued to talk about his own opinions, but though it was interesting when thinking about what and who Riddle was, Harry wasn't listening. His own mind was wandering to the Battle of Hogwarts, and the war that started it.

He was sure that no one else in this room had lost anybody because of the Muggle war alone – Slughorn collected mostly Pureblood students. It was naive of any of them – most of all Riddle – to claim that it wasn't important or significant that people died…

Harry let the voices of the other Slug Club members slide past his notice. They weren't getting very far with their conversations as far as he could tell, and about an hour of needless conversation passed on. Harry had barely said anything, but thankfully it turned out that other students had much to say on the subjects that were discussed next. Harry knew that this was a simple meeting, and he hoped this wouldn't change for him any time soon.

"Good gracious, is that the time already?" Slughorn asked as the clock struck ten. Harry tried not to acknowledge the fact that those exact words had been used in his memory. He assumed that it was somewhat of a habit of Slughorn to round off his meetings with this phrase. He was just glad this meant he was almost allowed to leave. "You'd had better get going, all of you. It'll be a busy week for potions, what with this being the beginning of the year and all…"

Slughorn addressed a few members of the group to give snippets of advice and reminders and so on, but Harry had left the room before he took in very much of what was said. He heard the Death Eaters and Riddle close behind him as he walked down the corridor, but they were talking in low voices and he couldn't hear what they were talking about. His steps were not quick, only determined to find a path away from the other students. His feet were not at all interested in returning him to the Slytherin Common Room, he knew.

He was finished with all his homework, so he had nothing left to do concerning mundane tasks. He was free to do anything, or nothing at all. While trying to decide where it is he wished to walk tonight, he determinedly avoided glancing out of the tall windows that displayed the moon-bathed grounds outside. He wasn't interested in being reminded of a dark Hogwarts. It was too soon to see the dead of night eating away at the castle walls. He wanted to turn a corner in this corridor, to come closer to the safe centre of the school, where torches were lit and carpets and bright tapestries welcomed him, but he stopped soon after this wish.

A strange prickling sensation, he just realised, was apparent on the back of his neck, telling him instinctively that he was being followed. He was full of nerves again, as he span around with haste, wand at the ready, to meet whoever was there. He hated the idea of someone waiting for him to turn around, watching him, but when he scanned the view now ahead of him he saw there was no one there. There was a silence. The only noise to be heard was Harry's breathing, which was now rough with paranoia. He was just about to tell himself that he imagined it, that he was being irrational, when he sensed someone behind him again. He span around.

"You look ill, Smith."

Harry nearly jumped at the sight of Riddle standing so silently behind him. He took a few steps back. Riddle had been as quiet as a shadow, and it was exceedingly eerie to have him suddenly right there. Harry was a little disorientated.

"Did I scare you?" Riddle asked in a somewhat amused tone, as though that wasn't his intention.

He waited, but Harry didn't say anything. The answer was easily assumed by the fact that Harry had his wand pointed to the other boy's face.

"You seem… paranoid." Riddle commented. "What are you hiding?"

"I'm not hiding anything." Harry said, glaring at Tom.

"Well, I can only assume that's a lie when knowing you still haven't lowered your wand. That hints of guilt, and fear."

"I just don't like to be followed," Harry replied shortly. He put his wand back into the pocket of his robes, knowing there wasn't much of a chance that Riddle would or could attack him more quickly then he could defend himself. "What do you want?"

"Besides this chance to report you to the Headmaster for being out of bed out of hours? Oh, nothing."

"What? There will have to be ten other students out of bed right now because of Slughorn, you can't report me alone!"

"Perhaps not for this, but for the other week you've spent avoiding the rules concerning time regulations, I can."

"But you have no proof that –"

"I have four other students who share the same dormitory as us to confirm the story."

Harry glared into Riddle's impassive face for a minute. "What are you trying to gain with this, Riddle?"

"Whoever said I was gaining something, Smith? I'm merely curious to know what it is you do in all those hours you should spend with your housemates."

"I don't do anything." Which was almost the truth. Riddle didn't believe it, and said nothing for a moment. "Look, if you want to find out about some amazingly interesting story about why someone is out of bed out of hours, go and find someone else to stalk. I don't do anything, and I won't do anything interesting for the next year of my free time, except walk and think. Happy?"

Riddle surveyed Harry for a minute in silence. "You merely think?"

"Pretty much."

"What about?"

"What do you care?"

"Well, if any thought is important enough to spend hours dwelling upon, it sounds interesting."

"It's not interesting, and nether is this conversation." He hoped Riddle might take the hint that he wanted to leave. He turned to go when nothing was said.

Five paces away, Riddle spoke. "You know, my friends and I would be more than willing to accept you into our group. You appear to have some useful qualifications…"

Harry turned to face Riddle again, scowling at him. "I don't want to join you're idiotic group. I don't want anything to do with you or anything you do! I have better things to do than that… I…" He stopped.

Riddle looked half surprised and half curious about Harry's reaction. "Why do you say that?" he asked quietly.

Harry didn't answer; he just turned and walked away in anger. He didn't want to even attempt an explanation on how much he hated the idea of joining Riddle and his friends. It wouldn't make any sense to him. Even if it did, the explanation would be too difficult to put into words. To explain the pure hatred that pulsed through Harry's veins would be impossible on any level, so he left Riddle to work that out on his own. Harry had no interest what so ever in becoming a Death Eater…