A duel happens, some people learn to regret that, maybe? Either way Tom looked impressed (that's probably not a good thing).

Harry's POV

The rest of the day was actually spent rather quietly. By dinner time, Abraxas had woken up and was in a very sour mood.

Harry couldn't exactly blame Malfoy, but he wasn't about to apologize. He liked to compare himself to a wild animal- mostly because that's basically what he'd been living as for hundreds of years now- in that if he was left alone, he'd leave everyone else alone, but as soon as he was bothered, he would do something about it.

So what if his manners were awful? If he needed to use them, he would use them, but while at school he didn't see the need. In fact, the only time he'd show manners was around staff or- Merlin forbid- he ends up joining the Slug Club and was forced to engage in idle prater with whomever Slughorn happened to invite on those days.

Honestly, Harry could do without going to the Slug Club, but he also wasn't about to purposely do awful in his classes. If he wanted to get a good position as either an Auror or within the Ministry, he would need to have good grades. But in having good grades in Potions, Harry would likely end up invited to the Slug Club. In fact, he might end up being invited regardless of how well he did simply because his last name was Peverell.

Honestly all Harry wanted to do was sleep for a while, or take a break from being awake. Living for as long as he had without any direction, life had become very, very boring.

Though, perhaps, this time around things would be a bit more fun because he did have the whole thing of stopping Tom Riddle from becoming Voldemort.

But how could he accomplish it?

He could kill the kid, but Harry would be stuck in the 1940s for the foreseeable future and he didn't want to spend his agelessness stuck in Azkaban.

He could possibly alter his memories and make up a fib about meeting a man who split himself with horcruxes several times and show Tom the memories Harry had of Voldemort so he could see how awful an idea horcruxes were.

Or he could find the ways that one could become immortal other than using something like the Philosopher's Stone or becoming the Master of Death.

There were multiple ways, though most had some type of drawback, it just depended on what drawback Tom was most comfortable with.

One is to do a ritual in which one actually summons Death and if they can best Death, they can become a true necromancer. But in doing so, their soul completely belonged to Death and when Death decided enough was enough, they would be forced to die and work for Death for all eternity. Harry happened to meet several of these reapers and while they didn't mind being reapers, a lot of them wished they had gone on to reincarnate. The thing about being a true necromancer was being able to stay immortal and ageless, but anyone they tried to bring back had to be at Death's behest. In short, the wizard or witch would live as an actual living reaper before becoming a true reaper when Death called upon them.

Another way was a bit of soul magic in which one bound themselves to something, be it living or not, and possibly live forever that way. Caveat here was whatever it was, it had to be magic and willing. The other caveat was that once that thing was destroyed or killed, the wizard would die as well. This form of soul magic was old, so old that finding writing on it was next to impossible, yet Harry managed to find it in the very well hidden library within the Chamber of Secrets. Another thing with this one was that once one bound their soul, they could feel what happened to the object they bound to, and they would forever remain the age they had been when they did the ritual. A lot of wizards and witches made the mistake of binding to a Phoenix (which had the added issue of getting the Phoenix's permission) and were stuck living from infancy to adulthood over and over when the Phoenix had its burning day. Others had picked things like stones, but when the stones wore down or chipped, the witch or wizard had to face the same.

Perhaps if Harry could nudge Tom towards the books on immortality within the Chamber of Secrets, the horcruxes wouldn't happen, and therefore Voldemort wouldn't exist.

Just so long as Tom didn't become Voldemort would make the thousand years of boredom worth something. Harry had to make this all count, otherwise he'd have not bothered. He simply would've killed Tom, escaped, and continued on his way as the Master of Death, but he couldn't take that route.

Even if he'd been bored for many, many hundreds of years, he still couldn't not care.

He could change the future.

He could fuck up Dumbledore's plans.

He could make sure that Magic never left the world, leaving him to live a lonely existence as the very last of his kind.

He could do many things with the gift of coming back in time.

Yet part of him hated having all of this responsibility- that he admittedly shouldered himself, willingly- shoved upon his shoulders.

In the end, no matter what happened, Harry had to make his actions count. Make sure Dumbledore doesn't practically destroy the magical community by urging Voldemort to destroy the magical community.

And on top of all this, Harry had to deal with Godric awful hormones and children who thought they ruled the world because of their blood status and money.

Harry felt that as soon as classes ended, as soon as he stepped foot into the common room, Abraxas would be there to set him off again.

Harry could only annoyedly pass his time in classes, which still wasn't much as it was the first day. Most Professors simply talked about what would be coming up over the next year.

Thankfully dinner was a quiet affair, and also happened to be when Abraxas finally woke up and surprisingly nothing had happened when Harry walked into the common room.

In fact he noted that Tom and his little groupies were all elsewhere, then it occurred to him.

They were probably at a meeting that Tom had called.

Harry didn't spend any time in the common room and instead made his way up to his dorm room and flopped on his bed.

What he hadn't expected was the soft yowl from beneath him and only then did he realize Mort had been comfortably sleeping on his bed right where he'd flopped onto.

"Shit, sorry Mort." Harry mumbled as he patted the cat and resituated Mort so he was curled up against his side.

Seeing as there was no homework, Harry didn't have anything to do until curfew, which was a few hours away.

So in the meantime he closed his drapes and set about finishing off the books of the year.

For the next few days, Harry had been on edge, constantly expecting Abraxas to get even, yet for some reason Harry was left well enough alone.

Just as Harry was feeling thankful towards Tom- who he assumed put a stop to whatever it was Abraxas had planned- Friday evening rolled around and as soon as he stepped into the common room, Abraxas was standing there.

"I challenge you to a duel, Hieronymus Silas Peverell. Right here, right now." Abraxas spoke loud enough for everyone in the room to hear, and all eyes turned towards Harry with expectation.

Harry now had two choices; he could either accept this farce of a duel or decline the duel and be seen as a coward.

"I accept your challenge to a duel, Abraxas Malfoy." Harry smirked as he felt his blood rush through his body. It'd been so long since he had a magical duel that he was actually excited for what was to come.

Furniture was quickly pushed to the side and wards were set up so any misfired spells wouldn't hit anyone in the audience.

Harry, for once, actually grabbed his wand and felt its magic curl up against his own in a welcoming gesture. If anything, the wand seemed somewhat upset at its lack of use, which Harry would make sure to change that behavior quickly. He hadn't even realized he hadn't been using his wand as often as he should lately.

And of course Tom Riddle was the one to oversee the duel.

"Seeing as I am unsure if Peverell has ever taken part in a formal duel, I will explain the rules. You will both bow, then take ten paces away from each other in your accepted battle position, from there, I will count to three, and on three, you both may begin your duel. Will either of you accept a second?" Tom explained the rules- and as much as Harry hated to admit, he was rather good at taking control of a situation and would make a good Professor- and looked from Abraxas to Harry.

"None, and you, Peverell?"

"I won't pick anyone." Harry shrugged.

"And any limits to be added?" Tom asked as both he and Abraxas met near the middle of the cleared space of the common room, ready for their duel.

"No killing, no obvious marks left on either person." Harry added with a frown.

"As if that needed to be said, Peverell. I will not add any other limits." Abraxas sneered at Harry while the shorter boy rolled his eyes.

"Then you two may begin." Tom stepped back behind the wards and watched carefully.

While Abraxas bowed, though not as deeply as expected, Harry merely inclined his head. They both turned, back to back, and took ten steps away from each other and turned.

Harry's "accepted battle position" was very leisurely. Simply standing there with his wand in his hand at his side. Abraxas, however, stood with his body at an angle, his wand-wielding hand farther away from Harry, and his wand lifted into the air, pointing towards Harry. Admittedly, Harry could see both Draco and Lucius in the way Abraxas held himself.

"Begin on three."

"One."

"Two."

"Three." As soon as Tom finished speaking, Abraxas was quick to begin spouting out spells.

Harry was quick to throw up a shield and layer it, as he was used to doing to keep anyone from getting at him.

A minute or two passes and Harry's shield still hasn't been broken, obviously irritating Abraxas to no end.

"So, is this what you did while you watched your parents get tortured? Just set up a shield while you watched them di-"

Before Abraxas can continue his words, Harry drops his shield and sends out a particularly harsh stinging jinx. It manages to hit Abraxas who lets out a soft hiss and only seems to get even angrier.

Abraxas sends out his own stinging jinx and it hits Harry who has no reaction. His face remains the same impassive expression it was before. Not even the slightest hint of wincing or being in pain.

The blond is clearly upset that his own stinging jinx was not nearly as harsh as Harry's and decided on a different tactic.

"Crucio!" Abraxas hissed out lowly so only those closest- namely Tom and his followers- could hear, though those who knew better were well aware of the color of spell spitting out of the end of Abraxas' wand.

Harry let the unforgivable hit him and merely winced. He had been through worse and had died in far worse ways than what crucio could do to him. Plus he could sense that Malfoy was a bit nervous with his casting of crucio, so it did not have nearly enough punch to make Harry feel truly in pain.

Abraxas only seemed to become even angrier at the fact that Harry merely only winced when he was used to seeing his house elves screaming and crying in pain when his father used crucio on them.

"Imperio!" Abraxas snapped out and Harry simply let it hit him.

Everyone could see Harry's face pale, then quickly flush.

Harry rolled out of the way from the next spell Malfoy spouted, watching as it merely hit the wards set up. However, he couldn't pay attention to anything other than Abraxas.

Since his first life, when he learned about Dumbledore and all of his awful deeds, Harry's fear had changed.

It used to be a Dementor, it used to be the fear of fear itself, but it had easily changed to the fear of being controlled.

Be it through love potions, no matter how mild, but especially though the imperius curse.

Though Malfoy didn't know this fact, it still didn't lessen Harry's anger by any means.

An eye for eye makes the whole world blind, but why should Harry care? No one could get to his eyes with the power he had.

Instead of using any spell, Harry's magic unleashed at its full potential, leaving the room cold and the air thin, making it hard to breathe.

Harry's magic descended upon Malfoy, who began to gasp for breath and claw at his throat. The air Malfoy did manage to release came out in cloudy puffs before they slowed down entirely.

Harry almost didn't stop when Malfoy passed out, and it wasn't until Tom announced him the winner of the duel that Harry came back to himself.

The wards had been dropped and Harry reigned his magic back in and looked around the room warily.

Tom looked pleased- which Harry wouldn't put it past the little sociopath-, Tom's followers looked a mix between impressed, worried, and angry, while the rest of the Slytherins looked somewhat scared.

Harry simply scoffed, turned on his heel, and headed back out to go smoke a cigarette.

He could still feel the anger and adrenaline coursing through him, and if anyone tried to stop him before he smoked at least three cigarettes, they would be hit with a leg locking jinx and several stinging jinxes.

Thankfully, no one bothered Harry and he happily smoked his cigarettes until the burning anger in his chest went away.

Perhaps, at some point, he'd go see a mind healer to try and deal with his absolute need for control and his reaction to people trying to control him. For now, however, he had cigarettes and the uncanny ability to ignore the more pressing matters in life.

A/N; So sorry this was a short chapter, but lemme tell you, I had a hell of a time writing this duel. Part of me wanted to have Harry use numerous spells either he made up or he found after his exploring the world for hundreds of years, but that didn't feel right. Then, part of me wanted to have him use Sectumsempra, but quite a few other fics have done that. Then I thought about him turning the imperio around and controlling Abraxas to do something, but that also didn't really fit imo? So I stuck with just him being super pissed and unleashing his magic entirely. I figure coldness/thin air due to his magic being so intertwined with Death that his magic would feel like Death.

Anyway, no Tom's POV this time, but we'll be getting that next chapter, I promise.

As for how Abraxas didn't get into trouble for using two unforgivables, I figure if no one talks (and no one would) no Professor or the Headmaster would check his wand for the spells he cast, so he's safe(ish).