Chapter Five:

"Honestly, I can't quite decide if you're my hero or not," Roger stated, eyeing him.

Harry rolled his eyes.

Since the utterly inconvenient confrontation with the Slytherins (and suddenly they all had a renewed interest him, and there was absolutely no chance of going unnoticed as rumours about him and the duel spread around the snake pit like wildfire) neither Roger of Imogen and been able to shut up about it.

Or Tom Riddle.

Or, specifically, him and Tom Riddle.

Just the 'and' between their names annoyed him, suggesting connection between the two of them he didn't want present. He'd had enough of bonds to last him a lifetime!

"It really wasn't very wise of you to antagonise him," Imogen murmured, reproachingly. It was an old conversation, he was getting marginally sick of it to be honest.

"Oh come on, Im!" Roger protested. "It was brilliant!"

"Yes, providing Harrison wants attention, which you led us to believe you didn't."

"You said Riddle's easily bored," Harry dismissed.

"Yes, I did," Imogen replied sharply. "So the amazing thing - no offence - is that he finds you riveting. That doesn't bode well, you know. He's ruthless."

Harry muttered something dark under his breath.

"Well," Roger returned. "Maybe it's about time someone stood up to Riddle."

Imogen scowled.

"You wouldn't be saying that if he could hear you."

Roger had the grace to look sheepish at that, but he still shrugged.

"Doesn't mean it 'aint true," was all he said, before he cast a tempus charm. "Gosh, say, I have to go - I'm late for Gobstones club, I'll see you later, alright? Im, you said you wanted some help with your Transfiguration Homework?"

"Oh, yes," Imogen blushed suddenly. "Yes, thanks. You'll help me then?"

Harry looked between them for a moment.
Ron and Hermione. He suddenly had the most intense homesickness.

"Yeah, sorry," he began, looking at Im. "I'm going to going to head off too…get some work done and stuff."

"Do you want any help?" she asked, perking up, before faltering. She hadn't taken well to the fact that he was rather obviously playing himself down in class. "Not that you need any," she added, marginally more stiffly. "If you'd only apply yourself-"

"Bye Imogen," Harry said quickly, nearly running to escape the impeding Ravenclaw lecture.

She huffed after him, though not surprised he was disappearing. He only spent a small fraction of his time - in lessons and between them at lunch and break - with the two of them.

In the mornings, when he woke up early from nightmares, or late into the night, he trained. He'd found this incredible room on the Seventh Floor, having asked a House Elf if there was any place he might be able to use to practise.

He knew the quiet, humble creatures probably wouldn't tell on him to anyone, and the so called 'disappearing room' truly was perfect. Seeing them made him miss the future and Dobby though, even if he rarely went to go see the funny little elf.

He headed towards the room, glad it was a weekend, scarcely able to believe he'd been in the past for three weeks already.

It would be October soon, it was bizarre.

He sighed.

Three weeks and he still didn't have a way to go home.

He'd tried pestering Dumbledore and Dippet about it, but all they said was that they were still searching and that they'd tell him if they found anything.

Was it so bad that he just wanted to go home?

He was halfway there when he heard the most annoying and hated voice known to human and animal kind.

"Harry."

"You stalking me or something, Riddle?" he questioned irritably.

The other ducked into his way, causing him to stop in order to avoid collision.

"Call it Fate that we keep running into each other," the other returned, smirking. "It might not insult your precious sensibilities so much."

"That line is unbelievably corny," Harry stated flatly. "If that's what you use on the girls, it's no wonder you're single."

"Oh, you noticed my relationship status?" Riddle winked at him. "I'm flattered, darling."

Harry spluttered.

"No-I-that's not-you're infuriating! What do you want?"

"You."

"Funny."

"To stop acting incompetent," Riddle finished, the smirk dropping. Harry started.

"What?"

"Excuse me," the other corrected.

"I'm not starting that again!" Harry snapped. He sidestepped, trying to walk past, only for the Slytherin Heir to dodge into his way again, pressing a hand lightly onto his shoulder, warningly.

"Stand still and I won't have to shove you into a wall again…unless you enjoy that? Is that why you suddenly took an interest to my relationship status?"

For the love of-!

"You know," he said sweetly. "You really are incredible Tom…incredibly arrogant. How is it that you and your ego can fit in through the door?"

"Because an ego is not actually a tangible object, and thus, its size has no correlation on one's physical capabilities," Riddle returned. "Don't you know anything?"

Harry blinked, involuntarily amused by the rather strange response.

"…was that a joke?" he checked.

Riddle shot him a scathing look. Harry wasn't entirely sure if it meant 'obviously' or 'don't be ridiculous.' He studied the other, uncertainly.

"What's in it for me if I do stop pretending to be incompetent in public?" he questioned warily. The Slytherin Heir favoured him with an inscrutable look for a moment.

"Good grades."

"If I cared about those, I daresay I'd put more effort into them in the first place," he replied, thinking fast. "I'll do it if you leave me alone."

Riddle's expression remained unchanged in his continued appraisal. It made Harry nervous. He didn't have a clue what the other was thinking.

"Okay," Riddle said, after a moment. Harry stared, not expecting such easy acceptance.

"Really?" he asked, not entirely sure why he felt…disappointed.

No, he was just confused. He had no reason to be disappointed when he was getting what he wanted, so, clearly, he wasn't disappointed.

He just…he supposed the famous Tom Riddle boredom had kicked in.

He felt blindsided, thrown off course.

"Okay then," he declared.

"Okay," Riddle concurred again, unreadable.

Harry hesitated for a few seconds, eyeing the other cautiously. It wasn't in his nature to trust this teenager…he seemed to be in agreement though…

"Right then," Harry muttered. "Bye Riddle."

Doing this brought himself more attention, and classes on Monday would no doubt be a nightmare of lectures, but…surely it was worth it to get rid of Tom's intrusive presence?

He made his way to the so called Room of Requirement, not entirely sure why he felt unsettled.

Tom watched the boy go, with a vindictive sense of triumph and also a little relief.

Harrison had seemed suspicious by his easy agreement, suspecting trickery, and, really, the boy's instincts were impeccable when he allowed himself to follow through with them - another reason why that weak persona had to leave, it repressed all his enigma's strongest instincts.

There were so many loopholes available to him in comparison to Harry that it was almost comical.

He'd wait until Harry had proved himself for about a week, so people didn't assume it was a fluke, and then he'd just start again.

After all, Evans had put no time limit on how long he had to leave him alone…and, indeed, he hadn't raised the boy's misgivings by adding an 'always' or 'forever' onto Harry's side of the bargain…but something like that couldn't be taken back so easily.

Once the professors knew what he was capable of, they'd hardly let him slack, and no one would fully believe his persona again, rendering it useless.

He'd be thoroughly pushed into the open for Tom to play with.

It was gorgeous. And, of course, if he got bored after lessons on Monday and wanted to toy with the other before then, he could simply target the boy's friends and then Harry would acknowledge him due to whatever hero complex he appeared to possess…the reaction could be stunning, if done right.

Harry, it seemed, revealed the most about himself when he was stressed or angry, and therefore, it was Tom's job to provoke such a response.

Oh, how fun it would be.

Once Harry was responding to him, he could see about embedding himself more firmly, and teasing out all those little secrets and quirks that thus far evaded him.

He almost pitied the boy.

Almost.

Monday came too quickly as Harry relished the last of his obscurity (and really, that was a tad overdramatic, the fact he could actually cast a stunner would soon blow over, and it wasn't like he was a Riddle-esque magical prodigy) before heading to Transfiguration, with Dumbledore.

He still couldn't get used to the sheer oddness of having Dumbledore teaching him. As much as he may have been at odds with the man's future self, he was a brilliant, if somewhat eccentric, teacher.

It seemed some things never changed.

He still had terrible dress sense which was now even more ludicrous because it clashed horribly with his auburn hair.

He was definitely a good teacher though, and as strict as McGonnagal in his own way. He certainly commanded the class.

He did seem…mistrustful of the Slytherins though, not that Harry really blamed him because Slytherins were…well, what if some Slytherins were more like him than Riddle? Unwilling snakes, cast aside and thought as dark or whatnot simply for their house?

It didn't seem fair.

It was highly disconcerting to be so quickly judged just for the green tie he sported. It made him feel a bit sorry for the Slytherins in his own time actually, where all the rivalry and prejudice was even worse after Voldemort.

His teeth gritted at the name, at the thought of the boy the snake-faced man used to be...

The boy sitting across the classroom with his flawless work and ability to do everything as if it was easy as breathing.

Smug git.

It made him feel like, if he was going to stop playing the role of the incompetent, that he should make the most of it and show the other up.

The annoying part was that he didn't think he was talented or powerful enough, which was both frustrating and humiliating. Even worse was the way his thoughts kept drifting to the other, almost obsessively…a fact which Imogen and Roger were in danger of noticing now he no longer blocked his ears when the Slytherin Heir came up in conversation.

It wasn't that he was some sycophantic groupie - perish the thought! - but he'd come to the conclusion that he didn't like not being aware of Riddle's activities.

At least when the other had been pestering him, he'd been able to track the other's nefarious habits, now, he was as lost as anyone as to what the Slytherin prefect was working on, or doing. He could be doing all sorts of awful, Dark Lord-y things and Harry wouldn't know any better! It made his skin itch.

That, and it was slightly disquieting to go from being the the object of such intense attention to suddenly not even being in the room.

He shook his head, despising himself. It was far too easy to get pulled into the Riddle-sphere, he'd decided. When the other was there, it was like Tom was all he could focus on, consuming. It was bloody annoying.

"Mr Evans…a perfect transfiguration," Dumbledore's voice floated across his table. "Do you mind repeating it?"

Harry looked down at his work, where he'd automatically cast the spell they were working on upon his rubber duck. They were supposed to be changing the ducks into wooden swords.

He didn't know why, but the future Headmaster often seemed to pick seemingly random things like that.

"Er, sure," he muttered, flicking his wand to change it back into a rubber duck to start over. Dumbledore's blue eyes sharpened on him, and Harry tilted his head, confused, before freezing.

Damn it. That was next lesson. Training intensively did have its advantages.

"Sorry," he mumbled. "Um -" he cast the spell again, sheepishly. Dumbledore stared at him.

"That is a remarkable improvement," the man murmured, eyeing him. Harry grimaced. "Five points for such incredible progress," Dumbledore said quietly. "And a detention for hiding your skills."

Harry gaped as the man walked away to assist a Gryffindor two tables down without further comment.

Detention? What type of detention did Dumbledore give? He'd laugh about his with Ron and Hermione one day.

"Kills me to say it Evans, but he's got a point you know," Avery muttered, from behind him.

Harry shot him a glare, to which the other quickly looked away.

But Rosier picked up on the questions now, seeming to decide that if Avery had talked to him without getting his head torn off his shoulders, it was okay.

"How come you were pretending to be so pathetic anyway?" the boy demanded, chewing on the tip of his quill.

"Ditch attempt to stall the annoying questions," he deadpanned. Avery laughed nervously.

"Riddle noticed you though," Rosier stated. Harry stared down mutinously at his work desk at that comment.

"Yeah, well, Riddle's a genius isn't he?" Avery said, voice lowered, pointed. He supposed the baby Death Eaters weren't supposed to talk about their lord.

"Did you know, that he can look at a wall for like two seconds and tell you how many stones there are on it?" Rosier continued, leaning forward to talk to him. Harry wished he'd just shut up.

"Reasons to be pathetic…an attempt to stall annoying conversations," he added pointedly.

He felt them both bristle, and figured he'd offended them. He didn't care.

"I preferred you when you weren't so cocky, Evans," Rosier said coldly. "Wer'e just trying to be friendly."

Harry turned around at that, abruptly, eyes flashing.

"Friendly, you want to be friendly? Wow, that's odd, considering you and seven guys were trying to attack me less than two days ago! Are you normally so hasty to change your opinion, or are you just a spineless lackey who zones in on anything Riddle does or pays attention to in the hopes of piquing his attention? Is that it?"

"I-" Rosier gaped, like a fish.

Harry arched his brows, smiling.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," he replied. "So back off and leave me the bloody hell alone. I want nothing to do with you."

He turned back to his work angrily, hating the stupid double standard, the way Tom Riddle had crept into every corner of Hogwarts like a disease. A contagion.

His gaze flicked to the boy in question, only to stop there, to find that familiar, piercing stare greeting him, fixed on him almost hungrily.

Riddle looked amused. Far too amused.

Harry flipped him the finger and dropped his aching head on the table.

He just wanted to go home.

A/N: Thank you for all the amazing reviews! I figured I better update for you :)

Still feel blocky on this. Maybe it's because I've got used to writing their FF characterisation. Maybe because I know the ending. Maybe because I should be sleeping according to my mother. Who knows?

PS: Check out my new Tom Riddle and Harry Potter centric story "Solace in Shadows" if you're bored and looking for some random fanfictions to read ;)