Chapter Fourteen:
"Are you mad?" Zevi demanded, as they crowded around the fire in the common room, talking in hushed voices. "We are not attacking Evans!"

"Don't be such a wuss," Alphard rolled his eyes.

"Besides," Cygnus said darkly, eyes flashing with menace, "look what he did to Tom! He deserves to be punished. We can't let him get away with it - you agree with me, don't you, Black? Malfoy?"

Abraxas studied them all with cool, mercury eyes.

"His punishment is not our prerogative," he said, neutrally. "Tom gets to decide what we do...unless you were thinking of targeting his new project without his hearsay, Lestrange?" Malfoy's head turned to him. "Zevi, why do you not want to attack Evans?"

He considered his words carefully for a moment.
"He almost killed Tom," he said, finally. "He put a blasting curse point blank into Tom's chest...do you really want to get on the wrong side of him?"

"So you are a coward," Lestrange sneered. Zevi's jaw tightened.

"No," he responded icily. "I'm a Slytherin, not a Gryffindor." Lestrange bristled at the insinuation of his wrong house placement. He continued before the other could. "But more so, Tom..." he dropped his voice even further. "Tom asked me to create him a paralytic." He didn't mention the Veritaserum.

Alphard's eyes widened.

"For Evans?"

"No, for one of the Owls' so he could dissect it," he replied, solemnly.

"Right, for Evans, sorry, stupid question," Alphard replied after a moment, rolling his eyes. "Really Princess, there's no need to be so snarky about it." The Black Heir's head tilted, in thought.

"He was duelling Tom under the influence of a paralytic," Abraxas murmured, with realisation.

"Did you do the potion wrong?" Cygnus questioned, eyebrows arched.

"No," he replied coldly. "My potions are flawless. Would you like me to remind you?"

Abraxas' lips curled up slightly, Alphard chuckled, and Cygnus had turned a shade paler than before, much to Zevi's satisfaction.

"I was just checking, further demonstrations are not necessary," Lestrange stated stiffly.

"So, what?" Alphard leaned lazily in his chair, basking in the warmth of the fire. "We wait for Tom? I still think we should ram his head down a toilet."

"Have some patience," Abraxas chided. "Tom comes back today. It's not like you have to wait long."

"Too long," Alphard growled, eyes flashing. "Come on, do you and Princess not even want to get him back, even a little bit, for Tom?"

"Of course we do," Zevi snapped. "But it's Tom's call, and revenge is a dish best served cold. You have to plan these things, make it perfect."

"Psh, don't care if it's perfect, I just want the little bastard to suffer," Cygnus dismissed.

He and Abraxas exchanged exasperated looks; the mutual suffering of the two more...rational members of their group. Alphard and Cygnus were both more passionate, and more bloodthirsty. Sometimes their confidence worked for them, other times his and Abraxas' more careful approach proved favourable. He supposed they worked in different situations.

Neither of them had time to respond, for at that moment their wayward Lord had returned.

Zevi had been absolutely terrified when Tom and Harry had collapsed; blood pooling onto the common room floor around them. He and Cygnus had quickly taken both of them to the Hospital Wing, though Cygnus had tried to convince him to just let Harry bleed out instead, while Abraxas and Alphard cleaned out the common room and investigated the situation.

Apparently, the fifth year boys dorm had been a total mess, resembling a war zone more than anything else. The hangings had been torn off the four posters, shredded - bed posts were smashed, pillow feathers covered the room like snow, and there were great dents and scratches gouged into the walls. It had been a miracle they, and the seventh years, had managed to fix it before the Professor's investigated.

They'd, truthfully, offered no explanation for what had happened - for none of them knew. He couldn't help but hope Tom would fill them in, though he doubted...speaking of.

Their Lord strode in. Harry wasn't with him.

They all stood up, expectant. Tom surveyed everything for a moment, face impassive.

He still looked pale, and a sliver of bandages peaked out from under his shirt, but he looked fine otherwise, all healed. He stalked over with that graceful confidence, taking his seat - it had remained empty for the last three weeks, despite the prefect's absence - and they watched him cautiously.

Everyone did.

Despite the fact that there were holder students in their house, it was Tom's power that swayed them all to follow at his heels. No one challenged Tom, it was why they were all so incredulous as to his stint in the Hospital Wing. It never happened. Some may have began to doubt their leader from this, but he knew most didn't.

Tom's aura today was magnificent, singing as if to remind them why they paid this boy their servitude. It made his mouth run dry.

No, it was impossible to doubt Tom, only to cast light on Evans in further scrutiny.

The rest of the common room turned to its previous level of noise, when it became clear that Tom wasn't going to acknowledge what had happened with any sort of speech. But, Zevi knew, if anyone took this as a sign of weakness and tried to act on it, that Tom would crush them instantly and viciously. He felt their lord's eyes on each of them in turn, as he weighed his words.

Lestrange started immediately.

"What are you going to do about Evans?" he demanded. "You can't let him get away with this - give him to me, my lord, I will make sure he screams and begs, he can be my project-"

"Your project?" Tom spoke for the first time, dangerously, silkily. Lestrange's mouth froze. Tom's eyes seemed to burn with a white hot heat, and yet, they still seemed so very cold. "I suppose you'd love that, Cygnus," he continued softly. "Harry does look rather like me, after all."

There was a moment of thick silence, as Zevi felt himself process what Tom had just implied. Lestrange spluttered, eyes wide, clearly searching for a way to defend himself somehow. A laugh escaped from Alphard's mouth at Lestrange's expense, but it seemed a mistake, for Tom's eyes shifted their gaze over to the Black Heir.

"Have you completed all your assignments, Alphard?" he questioned, smiling. Alphard's laughter died.

"N-No," he said, nervously. "I was - distracted - and what with you being in the Hospital Wing and all-"

"Oh no," Tom waved a dismissive hand. "I understand completely, I'm sure you were sick with worry. It's touching, really. " His voice was too soft, far too soft - menacing, mocking. "What about you, Brax, were you concerned over me too?"

"Yes my lord," he replied, determinedly keeping his eyes off the others. "I have however managed to do what you asked of me, despite this. I figured you would prefer us to be productive."

He could feel Alphard shooting daggers at him with his eyes. Tom nodded, after a moment, and he nearly breathed an audible sigh of relief.

"I will also be wanting a word with you, Prince," Tom said, and Zevi's heart almost stopped when those violet eyes landed on him, frosted. This was about his potion. He knew it. He didn't understand why it didn't work. It was flawless. He knew it was. But he also knew Tom would want to quiz him on it, and that his lord would probably have his own theories already.
He nodded his head, to show he understood, not daring to even swallow at the sudden thickness in his throat.

"Did one of you get the class work for me?" Tom questioned, his threat idle again for the moment, but still lurking in the shadows of his countenance.

"I did, I got your Defence Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Potions, Charms, Herbology and Ancient Runes," Cygnus said, before adding, more quietly. "Prince got your Arithmancy, Black your Care of Magical Creatures."
Tom nodded in acceptance.

It almost felt like he'd never been gone.

Harry entered the Transfigurations Office, almost expecting it to look like McGonagall's still.

It didn't. Nor did it look like the future Headmaster's office. Instead of the clutter of odd trinkets he was used to, which had no doubt been collected over the years, the office was instead simply rather homely...with a couple of odd things here and there.

The Pensieve was still there though, and it gave him some sense of familiarity. And Dumbledore, auburn haired, sat behind his desks with his fingers steepled, neat piles of marking all around him. That was one definite change he noticed; this younger Dumbledore's office was generally far less...slapdash and untidy.

"Hello Mr Evans, it's nice to see you up and about again," the man greeted pleasantly. "Lemon drop?"
And the resemblance was back, strikingly. Harry shook his head at the offer.

"You wanted to see me, Professor," he murmured.

"Yes," Dumbledore stated. "Take a seat. Are you sure you wouldn't like a lemon drop? Tea? Pumpkin juice?"

"No thank you, sir," Harry replied, more firmly this time.

"So, I apologise for not offering you more support earlier, I wished to give you some space to find your bearings first," Dumbledore said. "How are you adjusting? You seem close to Miss Pierce and Mr Watkins."

"Yeah," Harry smiled. "Imogen and Roger have been great. Very kind. And I'm adjusting fine, thank you...some things are a little...different to what I expected, and I'd obviously rather return home, but...everyone's been...fine," he finished, lamely. Dumbledore nodded, smiling back genially.

"I'm glad to hear you've been made to feel welcome," he said. "Mr Riddle, too?"

Ah. Harry forced his smile to stay in place. He'd had a feeling Tom would come up.

"We have some differences in opinion, as should be obvious," he replied, cautiously.

"You know you can tell me anything, don't you, Harry?" Dumbledore questioned, looking concerned. Maybe he'd spent too much time around Tom, trying to stay afloat in the Slytherin Heir's manipulations, but he caught the change in address from 'Mr Evans' to 'Harry' immediately.

"Not everything," he replied, after a moment, offering a wry grin, trying to come across as easy-going, harmless. Tom's words rang, infuriatingly, in his head. Would Dumbledore and Dippet have him moved to a cell in the Department of Mysteries if he was deemed to much as a threat. "It would endanger the timeline, if I did that."

There, best to reiterate that he was responsible with these things. Dumbledore chuckled slightly, waving a hand.

"Of course, of course," he murmured. They stared at each other for a moment. "You know Mr Riddle's future though, don't you?" he questioned. Harry's eyes narrowed slightly.

"I know a lot of futures, professor, yours included," he replied.

"This must be a fascinating experience for you," Dumbledore stated.

"That's one way to put it," Harry said. Dumbledore studied him for a moment.

"The urge to change things must be quite overwhelming," Dumbledore continued, eyes like X-rays.

"Not as much as I thought it would be," Harry returned, shrugging. "I was never good at history, I'd hate to delete my own existence."

More proof that he could deal with this well, and that he had no intention of playing God...there was no need to remove him as a threat.

"Indeed," Dumbledore said, with another friendly smile which Harry, suddenly, horribly, wasn't entirely sure he trusted. Dumbledore was generally kindly, despite his faults, he shouldn't be projecting Tom's habit of using smiles to hide his razor sharp, deadly persona upon the future Headmaster. They were completely different...weren't they? "That would be most unfortunate. Though I understand the...impulse might be harder to control with those whose future you feel more...affected by?"

Tom. Dumbledore was referring to Tom again. Wow. The Diary Tom had said Dumbledore kept an annoyingly close watch on him, and he'd noticed some tension between the prefect and the Deputy Head before in class, but this...

"Naturally," he replied. "But it is no problem, professor, don't worry. I have everything under control"
Dumbledore surveyed him.

"The events of Halloween would suggest otherwise."

Harry stared, warily.

"I wasn't deliberately trying to kill him, if that's what you're implying, professor," he said, his voice noticeably cooler. "It was an accident, like he said. Just a...misunderstanding."

Dumbledore returned his scrutiny in silence, for a minute.

"He seems very interested in you."

Harry remained silent, at that.

"Was there anything else you wanted, Professor?" he asked, quietly. "I'm rather tired."

Dumbledore studied him for a further moment, before nodding, that smile back.

"Of course, forgive me, you're still recovering. I was merely...concerned."

Harry nodded, standing up.

"Goodbye, professor."

"My office door is always open," Dumbledore called after him, softly.

Tom studied Prince in front of him, his earnest, desperate composition as the two of them sat discreetly upon the sofa again, the picture of normalcy to any outsider looking in. Just two people talking, for both their faces were composed. It was only Zevi's eyes and a few other tells that revealed his true fear. He had his theories about why the Paralytic hadn't worked the way it was intended to, but he needed to subtly see if he could confirm then.

"You realise your failure nearly cost me my life, do you not?" he started, silkily. Prince's face turned even paler. "I don't like failure normally, but your current error was simply unacceptable, do you not agree?"

"I agree," Prince murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry. Forgive me. It should have been flawless, I don't understand how this could have..." the boy trailed off, fists clenching slightly. He wondered if his follower, belatedly, had reached the same conclusion as he had. "You have every right to punish me," he added.

Yes, he'd definitely come to the same conclusion if the sudden trapped, wary light in his eyes was anything to go by. Prince dared not voice the conclusion.

"Indeed I do, and I will," he replied dangerously. "But first...does the theory of magic levels apply to potions?" he questioned. Zevi's eyes snapped up to his, briefly, and the boy swallowed.

"Not normally," he replied. "But you...you wanted to be able to control the potency of the paralytic, so I tied it to your magic..."

That confirmed his theory. The paralytic had slipped because his own focus on it had been challenged, and his magic forced to deal with something else automatically. Debatably, if he'd focussed on controlling the drug rather than fighting, his control would have been ensured...debatably, because Harry's magic had also started fighting the drug too.

Debatably...if they were on similar power levels. Before, he would have baulked at the audacity of such a claim, but now...well, if Harry had survived the killing curse...Evans, Potter, was powerful. He would be a fool to deny that, and he was never a fool.

"If you fail next time," he told Prince, simply. "You will no longer have the capacity to be able to try again."

Zevi swallowed again, hands trembling, imperceptibly.

"Yes, my lord, it won't happen again, my lord," he replied, shakily, obviously trying to sound composed.

Tom turned his gaze away, dismissively, to his homework.

It shouldn't take him more than a couple of hours to catch up, but he wanted to be ready for the class on Monday. He didn't like the thought of falling in his position as the top student in school, of being anything less than flawless in his performance. He loathed failure; especially public inadequacy.

The common room door opened again, and his eyes darted up. Evans. Finally.

He sat up a bit straighter in his chair.

Harry had been gone, much to his annoyance, when he'd woken up again. The slippery bastard. Madame Wilson had shared his displeasure, though undoubtedly because she actually cared about his health rather than Tom's own less altruistic reasons. The rest of the common room had gone still again, quiet, and most of them were glaring venomously at the newest snake.

"Harry," he called out.

Emerald eyes darted to him, hard as ice, and their gazes locked. Harry owed him. And they needed to talk.

Time travel. He was still trying to wrap his head around, it seemed so inconceivable, but it fit...it fit so very perfectly that he was almost suspicious it was another lie. He made a indication for the other to come over. Harry looked around the room, and, seeing nothing but hostility, the way several people shifted to block passage to the dorms, the boy did so, stopping in front of him, arms folded defensively.

He shot the other a smirk.
"Closer still, sit down, I'm not going to bite."

"I'd rather not," Harry said stiffly.

"Scared?" he taunted.

"No. I just, for some bizarre reason, have no desire to be anywhere near your twatish self."

"My, such eloquence, how do you come up with all these witty comebacks?" he mocked.

"Its a natural born skill reserved for jerks with their heads so far up their arse that it's miraculous they can respond," Harry returned sweetly. He raised his brows.

"Wow, the conversations you must have with yourself are probably highly entertaining then."

Harry's eyes narrowed.
"What do you want? Was Halloween not enough for you?"

"Nope, I'm insatiable," he smirked, his smirk widened at the discreet looks everyone else in the common room gave them, and the way colour rose to the other boy's cheeks at the way such a statement could be taken. He indicated to the seat next to him again, some of his playful demeanour evaporating. "Unless you're that eager to take this to dormitories?" he added, eyes gleaming.

Harry sat down, posture rigid, eyes searing killing curse green. He put up another ward, surveying the other more closely under its privacy.

"So...Harry Potter," he tried the name on his tongue. "It seems we have rather a lot of catching up to do."

A/N: So, it seems I can't refrain from updating :/
Thanks for all the review, hope you enjoy! Next update should be for either Solace in Shadows or Dearest Darkness...when I have time. Who even knows.

PS: Does Tom seem suitably menacing?