Chapter 3

The first flying lessons had Harry excited. In his downtime, he had done a bit of exploring in the castle, and discovered that his dad was quite the Quidditch player. He even held the scoring record at Hogwarts according to the trophy case. From what he had read in the library, Quidditch seemed an exciting sport.

Walking to the grounds by himself, he attempted to school the excitement off his features. A few of the Slytherins in his year had already attempted to befriend them, but his mistrust towards people flared up, and he shut them down as politely as possible. Not all of them had taken so kindly to his quiet rejections, but he was determined to stay focused on his studies, and keep his head down. He didn't want any attention and just wanted to stay below the eyes of his peers. He couldn't trust any of them after all, and the way the older years whispered his name in the Common Room each night, he knew that was true.

He had felt the stares on his back since the moment his name was called out during the sorting. Some were curious, some were in awe, but others, particularly from his own house, were malignant. He could feel their spite for him, even though he had done none of them any wrong. Perhaps this would have concerned him more if he wasn't used to the bullying attitude of others. Dudley and his friends had prepared him well for the potential bullies of Hogwarts, and he would not let his guard down around any of them.

Arriving on the grounds, Harry saw most of the first years gathered around two long columns of brooms. Deciding to take a spot as far away as possible, Harry tried to draw as little attention as possible and took up his place at the end.

Madam Hooch arrived shortly after and began a short series of instructions that led to Harry summoning the broom to his hand and beginning a basic levitation. Before the young Slytherin could get too excited, however, Neville Longbottom lost control of his broom, and took off towards the sky. It was a short series of disasters that led to the boy toppling off his broom, breaking his arm, and being rushed to the hospital wing by Madam Hooch.

Harry shook his head as he watched Draco Malfoy and Ron Weasley clash heads over something that had fallen out of Neville's pocket. When Draco took off towards the sky, Harry watched in amazement as the boy flew around with ease. An intense jealousy began to well up inside him, Draco looked so free in the sky. When Ron Weasley ended up taking off into the sky after him, Harry's decision was made.

Kicking off the ground and floating in the air, Harry felt the first genuine smile across his face since the first night he laid eyes on Hogwarts. With ease, he zoomed forward to level himself with the raising voices of Ron and Draco. Once he approached the duo, Draco took on a cruel smile, "No chance, Weasleby, but what do you say, Potter? Fancy a game of catch?"

It was almost like Harry couldn't stop the nod of his head, and his eyes were fixated on a tiny glass ball in Draco's hand. Every muscle in his body tensed as Draco reared back to toss the glass ball. When it left the blonde's hand, Harry tracked it with his eyes, and seemingly hundreds of possible scenarios flashed through his mind as he calculated where it might land. The glass ball seemed to hang in the sky for an eternity as he whirled around on his broom to take off after it. As the ball began its descent, he surged forward, his heart pounding in his chest, he extended his hands, and a feeling of immense euphoria coursed through his veins as his fingers snatched the glass ball.

When he held the ball in the air, he turned to see the gobsmacked faces of Ron and Draco. Harry shrugged as he hurled the glass ball back towards Draco, and the boy attempted to replicate his housemate's feat, but the glass ball just tumbled to the ground and shattered on the grass. Instantly the euphoria left Harry. He hadn't meant to break the ball that belonged to Longbottom. He was just caught up in the game. Draco didn't look upset, but Ron Weasley looked furious as the trio moved towards the ground.

Ron immediately charged towards Harry, and fight or flight took over Harry's body. He had spent enough years running, now that he had a way to fight back. He swore to do so as little as possible as he yanked his wand from his robes and held it to the redhead's throat, "Back off Weasley. It was an accident. Don't make me hex you."

His housemates quickly pulled him back, and whispers from the other first years began. Some were rather impressed by his catch, while others spoke of his quick draw with a wand, while a few of the Gryffindors muttered about him breaking Longbottom's glass ball.

Harry scoffed and prepared to return to the castle, but Professor McGonagall was storming her way over to them as if the castle was on fire. Swallowing hard he watched as the head of Gryffindor bee-lined straight towards him.

She stood in front of him with a severe expression, and Harry swallowed hard, before she said, "Come with me, Potter."

The whispers became louder; some even seemed excited at the prospect of Harry getting into some trouble, while the young, dark-haired boy just nodded his head and followed after his Transfiguration Professor.

Without a word, Harry followed the woman through the castle. His frown increased as he realized they were moving towards the dungeons. Was she going to make him grab his things and make him leave immediately? That seemed a little unfair considering he was the last one to take to the sky. He did break her little lion's ball, but it was an accident, and he could replace it if necessary.

In a no-nonsense voice, the stern woman said, "Wait here, Potter."

The woman stepped into a classroom that Harry scrunched his eyebrows at. They were at Quirrel's class. What did the stuttering man have to do with any of this?

Before Harry could think of any other questions, McGonagall stepped out of the castle room with an older Slytherin boy with short, dark hair. His skin was darker than most of his classmates, but it was more Mediterranean in looks. McGonagall addressed the teen, "Mr. Flint, I understand you are holding Seeker tryouts next week?"

The boy frowned openly at the woman, "Yes, Professor."

"Don't let me tell you how to run your team, Mr. Flint, but I believe I just witnessed Mr. Potter perform a feat on a broom that I doubt anyone since Charlie Weasley could have accomplished. His father was one of the best players to ever walk these halls, and it would behoove you to take this one under your wing. He could be the first seeker in over a century to play on a house team in their first year."

The frown seemed to only deepen as the woman spoke. He crossed his arms, looking suspiciously at the woman, "I thought first years were not allowed on the team."

"First years are not allowed to bring their own brooms to Hogwarts." She corrected, "Let him use one of the school brooms, and see how he does. I merely wanted to make an introduction. The rest is up to you."

The teen sized Harry up for a moment before a cruel smile crossed his features as he seemed to reach a moment of clarity, "Alright, Potter. Tryouts are next weekend. Be there."

The teen didn't offer a hand, only a respectful nod to McGonagall before returning to his classroom. A feeling of unease settled in Harry's stomach, but he attempted to shrug it off, as McGonagall gave him a satisfied nod and dismissed him to his regular activities.

.o.

Harry stared out the window to the English countryside with trepidation. He had hardly left the Dursleys on good terms last year, and he wasn't looking forward to returning to them. His compartment was empty, granting him the last bit of privacy he might receive for sometime, and he sighed deeply, pondering what was to come.

Tom had promised to be in touch, but throughout the last week of term, there had been no signs of the Dark Lord. Since Harry had returned from the Chamber of Secrets, the rumor mill around the castle was running rampant. The departure of the Weasleys had not helped the matter, and some were speculating on the fate of each of them. When they had not returned, the mood of the Gryffindor table had turned solemn by the last day.

Fred and George Weasley were very popular in the house, and Percy had been a prefect with his own set of friends. The student body may not have seen the message left behind in blood, but it was clear they all suspected something had happened to at least one of the Weasley children. Surprisingly, none had yet begun the whispers that one of them could've been the heir, but Harry knew it was unlikely they would ever reach that conclusion thanks to Dumbledore.

.o.

Being summoned to Dumbledore's office was a wreck to Harry's nerves. He knew the man must have uncovered some sort of evidence, and would have the young boy arrested the moment he arrived in the Headmaster's office.

Arriving at the Gargoyle, it sprung open before he could even mutter a password. His heart was beating faster than normal, and he felt sweat already beginning to perspire on his forehead as he began to ascend to his awaited fate.

Entering the Headmaster's office, he was pleasantly surprised to not see Aurors in the room. Not that Dumbledore would need them to subdue him, but perhaps he had been overreacting. At the desk was a tired-looking Albus Dumbledore, and he scratched away at a piece of parchment. He hardly even raised his eyebrows at Harry's arrival, but he did make a gesture for the young Slytherin to approach, "Ah, Harry, thank you for coming all the way up here. I will be with you in a moment. Feel free to help yourself to a lemon drop."

Harry had to prevent himself from snorting at the offer. Perhaps it was not as dire as he had imagined. He could hardly believe the headmaster would offer him a muggle confectionary if the man was planning to arrest him. Reaching out to the sweets to help himself, he took a seat across from the man. As his hand nearly reached the small bowl, his mind screamed danger, and he froze halfway to the destination. The little sweets could be laced with veritaserum. It would be foolish to accept anything from the man just in case it held some type of compulsion. It was what Harry would do if he wanted to get information from a young student after all. Instead, he closed his hands together, and forced his eyes to survey the office.

The portraits of the Headmasters and Headmistresses over the years filled the office. Along the walls were many books that Harry had no doubt were on rare pieces of magic that Dumbledore had studied in his life. There were also several artifacts around the room that Harry could only begin to guess at what their functions might be.

As the minutes passed, Harry began to feel the nerves return. The seconds that passed made Harry feel like the walls were beginning to close in on him. He could only hope that the Headmaster could not hear the pounding of his heart in his chest, because in his own ears it seemed deafening. Using his robes, he wiped at the sweat that began to trickle down his temples, but he could tell his hands were trembling and he attempted to steady them.

He saw the Diary on the desk and Harry felt like it was about to be used against him as evidence. Something undeniable and damning. The weight of what he had done felt suffocating in the presence of the man, but a soft voice echoed in his ears, "Calm yourself, Harry. Breathe."

The voice sounded like Tom's and his presence allowed Harry to take a calming breath. At the sound of his breath, Dumbledore set his quill down and looked up to Harry with a slight smile, "No need to be nervous, Harry. I merely wished to speak with you on a few matters."

In understanding, Harry nodded, and attempted to speak in an even voice, "What can I help you with, sir?"

Dumbledore stared at Harry, and the teen felt like he had no choice, but to meet the eyes of the man. When they linked eyes, Harry knew he had made a mistake, but as quickly as it happened, Harry's eyes flitted back to the diary on the desk. If the man had gleamed anything it couldn't have been much.

Frowning, the man leaned forward, "I asked you the other night if there was any more you wished to tell me about the Heir of Slytherin, and I wished to reiterate the question in the privacy of my own office. I assure you once again that I can keep you safe, my boy."

Shaking his head at once, Harry spoke evenly, "I wish I had more information for you, sir."

Sitting up straight, Dumbledore sighed before saying, "I am sure you have worked it out for yourself, but Ginny Weasley was not the Heir of Slytherin."

Frowning at the deduction, Harry glanced at the man, but avoided his eyes when saying, "How have you deduced that, sir?"

"Simple." Dumbledore answered, "No Weasley has ever been a parselmouth. Therefore, they have no hope of controlling the monster in the Slytherin chamber. The basilisk, to be precise."

Harry's eyes widened in surprise, "You know about the basilisk, sir?"

"Oh yes." Dumbledore said, putting a hand in his beard, "I suspected the involvement of a beast from the second attack. Professor Snape said that it would take extremely dark magic to petrify the students, and I believe he is right. Magic leaves traces, Harry. If these attacks had happened through normal magical means, I would have been able to detect it. Now I must ask, how did you learn the identity of Slytherin's monster?"

There was no point denying it. Harry had known for weeks, and Dumbledore had likely turned every stone Harry had stepped on in the castle. Madam Pince could easily have told Dumbledore what kind of books he had been checking out, or even one of the many portraits could have snitched on him, "As I told you, sir, I spent most of my year attempting to prove my innocence. After a lot of research and using the same words Professor Snape used that you did, I was able to deduce a beast was responsible."

"Why did you not come to your Head of House, or myself about this suspicion?" Dumbledore asked.

"I couldn't know for sure, sir. I also suspected that any suspicion I had, a great wizard, like yourself, would have figured it out already." Harry lied smoothly.

Nodding his head, Dumbledore said, "I appreciate your faith in my abilities, Harry, though I still wish you would've gone to one of your professors or myself with your thoughts. I implore you to remember that our first priority in this school is the safety of its students. I would never dismiss your thoughts or words on a matter of student safety, particularly due to your close ties to the situation."

Feeling chastised, Harry bowed his head, "I understand, Headmaster."

A moment of silence passed before Harry asked, "I still don't understand, sir. If Ginny Weasley didn't open the Chamber, and attack Mrs. Norris or the Muggleborns, then who did?"

At his question, the diary lifted off the desk slowly and levitated in front of Harry. The name Tom Marvolo Riddle was facing him and Harry frowned as he reached out to take the diary. Holding it in his hands, Harry looked up questioningly, while Dumbledore spoke softly, "Remember what I said about magic leaving traces? This diary is filled with dark magic. With someone of your talent, I would be surprised if you cannot sense anything at all?"

"I do feel something, sir." Harry admitted after several moments of hesitation, "I cannot quite identify it."

"I would have been surprised and worried if you could." Dumbledore said calmly, before summoning the book out of Harry's hands, "It was this book that led me to the identity of the true Heir of Slytherin. How, is still a mystery to me. I have little doubt, however, that the true culprit of our attacks this year was none other than Lord Voldemort."

Harry froze at the mention of his master's name. Dumbledore seemed to interpret his reaction incorrectly, however, and offered a raised hand, "You can relax, dear boy. Whatever Voldemort attempted has failed. The dark magic in this diary has spectacularly failed, and collapsed in on itself, I believe. I fear it cost Ms. Weasley her life, but I do believe whatever the Dark Lord's plans were, have been thwarted for now."

Dumbledore tossed the diary back onto his desk and leaned back in his chair, looking more relaxed now as he peered at Harry. For his part, the young Slytherin just shook his head, "I am relieved you have solved the mystery, Headmaster. May I ask what the public and the other students will be told?"

"I have pondered this very question extensively." Dumbledore said, rising to his feet now. Crossing his arms behind his back, he approached a large red bird that Harry recognized as a Phoenix. The man stroked the bird's feathers and the creature trilled happily, while Dumbledore spoke, "I trust you have not spoken to anyone about Ms. Weasley's fate?"

"Only Auror Shacklebolt, sir." Harry confessed.

Nodding his head, Dumbledore turned to face Harry and seemed satisfied, "Auror Shacklebolt is a dear friend. He can be trusted with the information. For now, I shall ask you to keep the events to yourself. A story will be told to the public to absolve Ms. Weasley of guilt and warn children of dabbling with dark artifacts they could not hope to comprehend. This will make the rest of the Weasleys have an easier time returning to school next year."

"You're going to lie to everyone." Harry said accusingly before he could stop himself.

"I am afraid it is for the Greater Good." Dumbledore said with a forced smile, "Now I wish to discuss one other topic with you. I have spoken with your relatives, and ensured you will be treated a little better this year while you are under their care. Rest assured, if you do not return to the castle on September 1st, I will come retrieve you once again."

Harry stirred at the promise. Nothing would make the Dursleys treat him better unless their lives were threatened. Something Harry doubted Dumbledore had done. Not wanting to argue with the man, however, he just shook his head, "Very well sir."

The young Slytherin did not wish to seem ungrateful. He had spent the last month of Summer thinking he would never see Hogwarts again when Dursely's had locked him in his room and nearly starved him to death. He would never forget the moment Dumbledore unlocked his door, and escorted him to Hogwarts personally.

"Be safe this Summer, Harry. I will see you again in September."

.o.

Shaking his head away from the memory of his last meeting with the Headmaster, Harry realized they were arriving back in London and his time to face his relatives had come. Steadying his nerves at the coming confrontation, he quickly changed into his muggle clothes that were multiple sizes too large, and prepared to deboard the train.

Arriving on the platform, Harry watched with barely concealed apathy towards his housemates, who were greeting their families enthusiastically. Knowing his uncle would not appreciate any tardiness on his part he quickly made his way through the throngs of students and parents, and made his way back into the Muggle world between platforms 9 and 10.

It was a short walk to the parking lot where he spotted his whale of an uncle staring at him with beady eyes. Trying to walk faster in hopes of avoiding Vernon's ire, he arrived at the car and his uncle opened the trunk while Harry gently lifted his luggage without words of greetings and sat it gently inside. Without prompting, he quickly apologized to Hedwig and moved to get in the back seat of the car.

Vernon grunted as he squeezed into the driver seat in front of Harry and cramped the boy's personal space with his seat pushed back all the way. In the car was Petunia. She had pursed lips and was clearly displeased at the sight of her nephew. Next to him was Dudley, who looked like he had put on some unhealthy weight over their year apart, and offered Harry a grin and a hard punch on the arm in greeting.

Trying not to yelp in pain, Harry offered his cousin a very forced smile and a greeting. Harry knew Dudley would be excited to have his punching bag back at home, and the young boy tried not to cause a scene that would draw the ire of his aunt or uncle.

The only words that had been directed to Harry on the long car ride home were from Vernon who mumbled something about the work around the house the young boy would be doing to earn his keep. Harry hardly processed any of the words, and fought the wistful feeling that being away from Hogwarts caused.

If he was lucky, he would find enough food to survive this Summer. He only prayed that he would be able to avoid Dudley as much as possible. His aunt's glance back towards him in the rearview mirror promised a long summer, and he let out a sigh as they pulled onto Privet Drive.

As they pulled further down the street, Harry, not for the first time, pondered trying to escape. The idea of running away had always been a distant dream, a flicker of hope in the darkest moment. Today, however, it felt tangible. He could make a run for Gringotts. Pull out enough galleons to hide in the Wizarding World, or even try and transfer it into muggle money. Perhaps that would be enough to at least get some food. It would be better and safer than staying with the Dursleys.

His heart pounded with a mixture of fear and determination as he continued to ponder the thought. It was never going to get better, and perhaps Tom would even come to find him. He had a faint idea of what it had been like with the Dursleys through what Harry had told him via the diary. It seemed too much to hope for.

"Who the devil is that?" Vernon said aloud as they pulled into the driveway.

Harry's eyes had been downcast, but they whipped up to see who Vernon was looking at, and he gasped in surprise. Tom was standing there in an all-black suit. His hair was styled neatly, and his clothes were immaculately pressed. His face was an emotionless mask, and Harry's heart began to surge.

Had Tom come for him? Was it possible that his new master in the magical arts would take him away from his own personal hell?

Putting the car in park, Vernon nearly jumped out of the car and began approaching the young man with his finger pointed in accusation. In morbid fascination, Harry moved on autopilot out of the vehicle and prepared to watch the light leave his uncle's eyes.

Harry felt the magic before he saw it. A soft buzzing in his ears indicated that something had happened, and the next thing he knew, Vernon was on the ground screaming in pain. Petunia let out her own cry, but this was in horror, instead of the agony that was clearly displayed on Vernon's face.

Tom for his part, looked amused as the large muggle man writhed on the ground. The wand of Ginny Weasley was in his hands, but he held it lazily. Harry knew the wand meant nothing to the man, and also knew it was quite unlikely the little girl held a wand compatible for a wizard of his master's caliber.

Glancing around the neighborhood, Harry saw his neighbors in the yard across the street. Their faces showed exactly how oblivious they were to the situation, because none even glanced in their direction, despite the near-deafening screams of Vernon Dursley. Petunia was screaming for help at this point, but with a flick of his wrist, Tom silenced the woman.

Approaching the man carefully, Harry addressed his new mentor, "Tom?"

"There you are, Harry." The man greeted with a grin, "Your relatives are as pleasant as I expected them to be."

With a twitch of the wand, Vernon's screams ceased, and the man began twitching on the ground, moaning in pain. Harry thought to warn the man of exactly who they were dealing with, but ultimately decided against it. They had made Harry suffer immensely over the years, and if they decided to greet a perfect stranger with the hostility Vernon had just shown, they deserved the punishment they were given.

"I am sorry they didn't welcome you into our home." Harry apologized, "I believe I mentioned their distaste towards all things magical."

"No matter." Tom dismissed, and approached the down Vernon Dursley with hands casually behind his back, "Listen to me now, muggle."

The way Tom said the word muggle displayed every bit of taste he held towards their kind, and Harry watched in fascination. He wasn't sure what he hoped for. Perhaps the young boy merely wanted them to get more of their own medicine. After all, if Tom killed them, Dumbledore would know.

Who cares? Harry thought bitterly. Perhaps that would just mean Dumbledore would have to move him elsewhere. Anywhere would be better than here.

"Your nephew is not going to be around much this Summer. During the day he will be with me, preparing for his future. At night, I will entrust his safety to you. You will not have to feed or take care of him in any way, you must merely give him a roof over his head. If a single hair on his head is harmed in your presence, I will make you pay for it one thousand fold. Do I make myself clear?"

Harry's chest swelled with hope. It was true! Tom was going to take him away. At least for most of the Summer.

Vernon heaved, attempting to get back to his feet, "You will never get away with this."

"Actually you will find that I can. Crucio." Tom said the curse as casually as he had said any word. Yet the screams of Vernon indicated the success of the curse. Petunia was sobbing on her knees now with her body over Dudley desperately trying to protect him.

When the screams stopped, Tom lifted Vernon wandlessly into the air and held him in place. Harry's eyes widened as he realized Vernon was being choked by the magic holding him up, and Tom spoke dangerously now, "You will find, Mr. Dursley, that if you whisper, write down, or communicate in any way possible that I was here, your final moments on this earth will be spent hearing the screams of your wife and son. Only then will I slowly, methodically, unhinge your mind, and torture you to insanity. If I am not making myself crystal clear, you better tell me now."

Vernon, grasping at his neck, was now nodding rapidly. Tom grinned and released the man as he slumped to the ground. Before Harry could pose a question, Petunia came zooming towards Tom's outstretched hand, and now he had the woman by the throat, her eyes wide with fear as he spat, "I don't know what means of communication you have with Dumbledore, but you dare not attempt a single one of them for your fat little sons sake. Also, if I find your boy has in any way harmed my young friend here, I will string him up by his intestines and use him as a new paint for your living room. Do you understand?"

The woman had the widest eyes Harry had ever seen and she nodded her head rapidly in understanding. In disgust, Tom pushed the woman roughly as she tumbled over her husband, and she crawled over to her son protectively.

Tom looked around, appeared satisfied, and placed a hand on Harry's shoulder, "Well Harry, that was quite fun. What do you say we go to explore the area where you will be spending most of your Summer?"

Swallowing hard, Harry asked nervously, "May I take my trunk and owl to where we are going?"

Frowning for a moment Tom looked to his fallen relatives for a moment before nodding, "Of course. I suspect your relatives don't have much appreciation for your belongings. There is plenty of space to leave your few items."

In relief, Harry sighed and went to the car and quickly retrieved his things before returning to Tom's side. The man glanced at the muggles one last time distastefully before saying, "Be good muggles, you will not get a second warning."

With that final threat, Tom placed a hand on Harry's shoulder and whisked him away.

(A/N) Tom is getting spicy with those pesky muggles! If you wanna read about how Harry's Summer is going you can follow me on Pat(reon) for 1$ a month at OrionB15. Next month Discord will also be receiving a bonus chapter every month, so before you know it my server will have several free chapters to read, so join me at the Hunters Lounge for free, and interact with my community of readers, or be another silent warrior! Other wise I will see you guys in two weeks! Cheers.

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