FicWad

A/N: Forgive me for not updating this for awhile. I honestly forgot about ficwad. Shrugs Not my fault. I've found that since I've virtually given up on writing anything original because it bored me, I like fanfic.net a lot better than this amatureish site that doesn't review even if their life depends on it, so if you're reading this, sorry, but updating on this site is nothing but a whim to me anymore. It's a last, unimportant thought that I haven't had in like...a year? I haven't been on here in a while because frankly, I like fanfic.net better as I aleady said. Anyway, get on with reading the fic. Enough with my ranting.

Ch. 5: A day in the life of…Harry Potter?


“Headmaster.” The professor said, bowing to Dumbledore who was sitting in Dippet’s seat.

“Severus? What brings you all the way up here after we just spoke? And with Harry in tow? He needs to rest Severus. He has had a very trying day.” Dumbledore said, and Riddle looked around. He was the only one with this man, so he must be who the Professor was referring to.

“I think he prefers to play games, Headmaster.” Here, the man paused, walking past Riddle to whisper in the Professor’s ear. The professor looked at him with a frown as the other man stood back up.

“Harry, what on earth is this all about?” Dumbledore asked, and Riddle started to get annoyed. He was getting his name wrong on purpose and telling this man he was somebody else. He even had the man convinced he was the Headmaster, unless he killed off Dippet and he really was Headmaster now.

“Sir, why are you calling me that?” he asked, almost rolling his eyes at Dumbledore when the man looked confused.

“Calling you what? Harry?” Dumbledore asked, and Riddle almost shouted his reply before he calmed himself.

“Yes, sir!” he replied through gritted teeth, getting angrier.

“Would you rather I referred to you by surname than your given name?” Dumbledore asked, and he about exploded.

“I don’t care what name you use sir, as long as it is the correct one!” he replied in a restrained voice, his jaw clenched with the strain of not yelling at the insufferable old man. Dumbledore’s frown deepened.

“And what would the correct name be?” he asked, and Riddle had to take a few deep, calming breaths before he answered.

“Sir, are you quite sure you should not be in St. Mungo’s, or are you just playing with me?” he asked, frowning. Surely the man was too old to do this kind of thing. The new Professor was about to say something, but Dumbledore held a hand up to silence him.

“Please, dear boy. Just humor me for a moment and then you can scoot off to bed. I promise.” Dumbledore said with a smile. Riddle sighed, and decided to humor the man. He was tired of playing.

“Tom Riddle, sir.” He said, and Dumbledore looked thoughtful, but the Professor by Dumbledore flinched away as if he had been burned.

“Very well; a few more questions, Tom. I promise. Where were you raised, who came and told you that you were a wizard, and how did they prove it?” Dumbledore asked, and now he was quite sure the man was mad. He sighed and humored him once again.

“That annoying muggle orphanage, you, sir, and you set my wardrobe on fire.” He said impatiently, crossing his arms. Dumbledore looked thoughtful again, and he beckoned to the new Professor. “Sir, can I go back to my dormitory? I feel oddly tired.” Tom said, which wasn’t entirely a lie. Dumbledore didn’t answer him, but started to whisper to the new Professor, and something he said must have upset the man, because he flinched again, severly. After they finished talking, Dumbledore looked at Tom again.

“Tom, I apologize again. I promise this time that I will keep you for only a few minutes longer, if you let me examine your mind. After that, I shall have Professor Snape bring you back to your dormitory and when you awake in the morning, I want you to eat breakfast and then Professor Snape will lead you up to my office again after that.” Dumbledore said, and Tom frowned.

“Sir, what do you mean, examine my mind, and what about classes tomorrow? Can our meeting not wait until after?” he asked, and Dumbledore shook his head.

“I just need you to come sit over here and look into my eyes, Tom. And do not worry about classes tomorrow. You can ask to borrow a classmate’s notes if need be. Now, come over here if you please.” He said, and Tom walked over without comment.

“What do I need to do, sir?” He asked, looking up at the man. Dumbledore just muttered something he couldn’t hear and suddenly he was reliving moments of his life, and the life of some other child as well. Memories of the orphanage and its hateful caretaker Ms. Cole sprang to the forefront of his mind, and after a few minutes of searching through memories, Dumbledore withdrew and Tom blinked. As he looked up at him, Dumbledore frowned.

“Tom?” he asked, and Tom blinked.

“Yes, sir?” he asked, feeling his tiredness increase.

“When you go back to your common room, and even when you go to classes for the next few days, you will find that things have changed. You will not know any of your classmates, and your teachers will be different. It may be hard to believe, but you are a completely different person than who you think you are, Tom. We were calling you Harry earlier because that is what people usually call you. Your name is Harry Potter now. You will find everyone you see calling you Harry or Potter, so be prepared.” Dumbledore said, and Tom shook his head.

“Is this some kind of joke, Professor?” Tom asked, standing up.

“Not at all, Tom. I assure you I am telling the truth. Somehow, and we do not know how, your mind is in the body of another child, Tom. Almost fifty years have passed since you last attended school here. Most of the teachers you know are retired.” Dumbledore said, and Tom looked at him skeptically.

“With all due respect, sir, when are the mind healers expecting you at St. Mungo’s?” Tom asked, and to his surprise, Dumbledore burst out laughing.

“Yes, my boy, some say I have lost it a bit. But I assure you that is not the case here. Have a look for yourself.” Dumbledore said, waving his wand and conjuring a small mirror which he handed to Tom. When Tom looked in the mirror, he almost gasped. It was indeed another person starting back at him. They did look similar, but this child was somewhat different. And that scar…

“Sir, what is this scar from? And…how old is he? What year is he in?” Tom asked, looking back up at Dumbledore.

“As an answer to the first question, Tom, I will tell you at another time. As for your other questions, he is eleven, and he is in his first year, Tom. What year do you remember being from?” Dumbledore asked, looking curiously at him. Tom was a little annoyed about the scar thing, and he could tell it was a brush off, and more important than he thought at first, but he decided to ignore it for now.

“Third year, sir. Has Hogwarts changed much? I mean, besides the teachers?” Tom asked, glancing at the other professor before looking back at Dumbledore.

“Quite, my dear boy. The castle itself has not changed much, but the caretaker and the grounds keeper have as well, and some of the curriculum. I shall have to ask you to attend class under the guise of Harry Potter, Tom. When others call you by this name, you must answer. This is some of the strangest magic, and indeed no one has ever seen anything like it, so no one would believe you if you told them who you really are. Can you do this, Tom? At least until we can get your mind back where it belongs and we can get Harry Potter’s mind back into his own body?” Dumbledore asked, and Tom smiled wryly.

“I do not have much of a choice, do I sir? And by the way, who is the caretaker now, and who is the grounds keeper, sir?” Tom asked, causing Dumbledore to smile.

“The caretaker is now one Mr. Argus Filch, and the grounds keeper is Rubeus Hagrid.” Dumbledore said, smiling at the look of incredulity on Tom’s face.

“Sir, with all due respect, you have got to be joking. Hagrid? The big oaf who used to sneak off into the Forbidden Forrest and wrestle trolls? Do you think he can handle that responsibility?” Tom asked distastefully. Dumbledore suddenly looked stern.

“Now Tom, you will give the utmost respect to your teachers, piers, and both the caretaker and grounds keeper like I have come to expect from you, is that clear?” Dumbledore asked, fixing him with a stern gaze.

“Yes, sir. I would not do anything else, I assure you.” Tom said, refusing to look away from Dumbledore like some ashamed child.

“Good, now, as you may have noticed, I am the headmaster now, Tom. If you have any problems, go to your Head of House, Professor Snape,” Dumbledore said, gesturing at the other Professor, “and he will come to me. Is that understood Tom?” Dumbledore asked, his face kindly again.

“It is sir, only…” Tom said, wondering silently.

“Only what, Tom?” Dumbledore asked, his face politely questioning.

“Well, what house am I in now, sir?” he asked, looking between Dumbledore and his head of House.

“You are still in Slytherin, Tom.” Dumbledore said, smiling.

“Thank you sir. May I leave?” Tom asked, looking at his new Head of House.

“You may, Tom. You have had a very trying day, and I know you have much to think over tonight. I will tell you more about the life of the body you inhabit when you come to see me tomorrow. I will have to prepare you for certain things.” Dumbledore said, and with that he waved Tom and the professor toward the door. Tom stood and began to follow the dark man toward the door, when Dumbledore spoke up behind them.

“Remember Tom, no cursing other students. It is still against the rules.”

“Yes sir.” Tom said, starting down the stairs behind the professor.

“And I know it is rather last minute, Severus, but would you come back up once you have put Mr. Riddle to bed?” Dumbledore called, and the professor called back to him.

“Yes Headmaster. I shall be back in a few.” He said, continuing down the spiral staircase until they reached the bottom. As they walked, Tom asked the professor a question.

“Professor, if you don’t mind my asking, what is it that you teach?” Tom asked, following the man through the corridor and down a flight of stairs.

“I teach potions, Mr. Riddle, and I expect you to memorize your class schedule and be on time for every class, is that understood?” he asked, and Tom answered right away.

“Perfectly, sir. I also wanted to know, do I still have to serve that detention, sir?” Tom asked, trying to memorize the man’s mannerisms.

“Yes, you do. No student has ever gotten out of a detention because he ‘can’t remember’ doing anything to receive it and you will not be the first, am I clear?” the professor asked, leading him through several more corridors and down several flights of steps as they spoke.

“Perfectly, Professor. I apologize for asking. If I may, sir, what is the new Slytherin password?” Tom asked, and he got silence for a response for a few seconds before the man spoke up.

“I will tell you that once we reach the Slytherin common room. Until then, I suggest you stay quiet for the remainder of this walk.” The professor said, and Tom obliged, looking around to try to spot visible differences in the castle.

‘Dumbledore wasn’t lying. The castle looks much the same as it did the last time I walked these halls. It’s almost as if no time has passed, but Dumbledore couldn’t be lying about the whole thing. For one, what would be the point of it? Two, even the Headmaster doesn’t have the authority to replace the whole staff, especially on a whim. I would have to go back to class sometime, and I would eventually see if he were lying.’ Tom thought, and before he knew it they were walking down the familiar corridor that led to his common room. When they reached the blank stretch of stone that served as a barrier between the corridor and the common room, the professor stopped him and signaled for him to be silent for a moment. After the professor was sure no one was around, he turned back toward Tom.

“Mr. Riddle. Before I return you to your common room, I will need to go over a few things with you. I will call you Potter in public, as will most others, and his friends will call you Harry. Potter associates with four other Slytherin first years, as far as I can tell. Their names are Draco Malfoy, he is the blonde, Blaise Zabini, the African child, Vincent Crabbe, the lighter haired shorter one of the two bigger boys, and Gregory Goyle, the taller and darker haired of the two bigger boys. You will need to know this so you do not look suspicious to your classmates. The only reason I am telling you this is because the Headmaster has examined your mind and determined that you are indeed telling the truth. I do not know how long this will last, but you will remember that you are still a student, and therefore you are still to listen to your Professors; especially your head of House, myself. If you have any problems, you are to bring them to me so I can bring them to the Headmaster, as he has already told you. Is all of this clear?” the Professor asked, and Tom replied.

“Yes sir. Now if I may inquire, what is the new password?” Tom asked, and the Professor sighed.

“I was getting to that, Mr. Riddle. The new password is ‘Aconite’. Your dormitory is the third door back on the right hand side. Just wait for his friends to go to bed and the empty bed will be the one you sleep in.” the Professor said, and without another word, he turned and began to walk away. Tom turned back to the wall after watching the professor for a moment, and whispered the password to the wall, watching it dissolve away into nothing to allow him passage. When he stepped into the room, he was greeted by a ton of questions from two of the four the professor had described, Zabini and Malfoy, if he remembered correctly. They fired off questions at him one after another, but he raised a hand silently.

“Can we save the questions for tomorrow? I’m almost too tired to stay on my feet as it is.” Tom said, and with satisfaction he watched as the boys, however reluctant they might be, stopped asking questions and merely led the way to the dormitory. It was late, after all. He stepped into the room and walked slowly as he watched the other four take four of the five empty beds, and he went to the one still empty to lie down, and as it happened he was right next to the blonde. It would be easy to remember at the least. He noticed with some curiosity that there was one boy in the room who was already asleep. There were six beds in total, and while Harry appeared to associate with only his dorm mates, the sleeping boy was never mentioned. The curiosity disappeared however as he lay down and started to drift to sleep almost instantly. He could worry about everything in the morning, when he had to go talk to the insane Headmaster again.

****

“Harry, wake up!” the blonde called to him, and he sat up groggily.

“What is it Malfoy?” Tom asked, and the blonde frowned.

“I thought we were back to a first name basis. Was I wrong?” the blonde asked, and Tom shook his head.

“No, I’m just still tired. Sorry Draco.” He offered with a false smile, and the blonde seemed to have bought it and smiled back.

“Professor Snape said to wake you up early to get your shower in and make sure you had breakfast. You usually do it on your own so I didn’t think I needed to bother, but you slept in today. You need to hurry if you want your shower beforehand.” Draco said, and with that he set about gathering his own things for his shower. Tom got up and started to do the same.

‘Stupid Dumbledore. If he’s letting me out of classes for the day, the least he could do is let me sleep in.’ Tom thought grumpily, gathering his things as well and noticing with distaste that Harry’s clothing seemed to be in much the same poor condition his clothing used to be in, if not worse. Everything was at least twice as big as his small frame, and it was tattered and worn. Oh well, he would have to make due. The robes looked to be new, so that was a plus. He looked again at Harry’s wand for a few long seconds. It was so alien and still so oddly familiar. He felt it would work for him if need be, but still not as well as his own, and he still wondered where in the world his own wand was, especially in this time period. He shook his head to clear it and gathered his stuff to go wash, following the other four to the toilets and setting his stuff down on an empty space on the bench in the shower room.

He hurried through washing himself, using a quick spell to dry himself that hadn’t went unnoticed by the other four.

“Harry, where did you learn that spell? That’s a fifth year spell at least.” Draco said with a touch of awe.

“A book.” Tom said evasively, and set to clothing himself while the others were still drying. He went to step out into the common room when one of the boys called for him to wait.

“Hold up, Harry. Don’t you remember what we discussed just the other day? It isn’t safe for you to be walking on your own. Wait for us.” Blaise said, and Tom shrugged and waited. It was no use annoying his supposed friends if he needed to pretend to be the boy. He wondered idly why this boy needed protection though, and from whom. When the other four were done drying and dressing, they all walked down to breakfast. Tom noticed with amusement that the Gryffindors were dodging out of the way of the group, and he wondered why when one of the boys brought it up conveniently.

“Ha. Looks like they still think you’re going to hex them all. I think it’s great that everyone still believes you’re going to be the next Dark Lord.” Draco said, laughing beside him. That idea struck Tom like lighting. What had this boy been doing until now? Especially with that particular rumor going around. Tom forced a smile and nodded in agreement, answering lightly.

“Yeah, I know, but it’s not like they have any real reason to think that.” Tom said, and the smarter two, in Tom’s opinion smirked at him.

“Well, they actually do, but…only because we helped it along a little. You did say it was a good thing they thought that mate. That, and with your threat to Weasley and the other two, and especially when you cursed Weasley and his two older brothers, people are thinking that more than ever. It’s just the fact that we know you that makes it unbelievable to us.” Draco said, and Tom was almost stricken silent. This boy wanted to be feared that much? That must have driven Dumbledore especially crazy. Tom smiled.

“And what about me makes you believe I won’t be?” Tom asked jokingly, although he genuinely wondered.

“You’re too nice, mate. We almost couldn’t believe it when you called Granger a Mudblood and told her to go crawl back into her nest in the library. That had us in tears, mate. We almost couldn’t stop laughing after we got over the shock of seeing you call her that.” Blaise said, laughing again. Tom nodded noncommittally. He didn’t know this boy’s character enough to say anything either way at this point without giving something away. Draco clapped him on the back.

“Nice or not though, you’re on your way.” Draco joked, leading the way into the great hall. Tom shook his head. This child, whoever he was, was turning out to be a lot like him, only Dumbledore seemed to like this child a lot more. His attention was captured immediately as they entered the Great Hall for breakfast. He felt a great dark energy from up near the staff table, and when he looked, the dark energy was emanating from a rather weak looking man in an absurd purple turban. The man was sitting next to Professor Snape, trying to make conversation while the man ignored it. How could the professors not sense the aura around the seemingly weak man? There was much more to him than meets the eye, of that Tom was sure.

He could no more than speculate though as he was led over to the Slytherin table to eat, and when he was done, he got up to exit the Great Hall and his group followed him. He turned to say something to them when the Professor strode toward him, beckoning him to follow. He nodded and did so, giving the group a short explanation as to what he was doing.

“I have to go meet with the Headmaster. I’ll see you all after class.” He said, and followed the professor without a word. When they reached the Headmaster’s office and were ordered in, he wondered what exactly the insane man wanted with him that he needed to be excused from classes for the day.

“Ah, Tom. How nice to see you, my boy. You may go, Severus.” Dumbledore said, giving the professor a gracious smile.

“Yes, headmaster.” The professor said, inclining his head briefly before leaving the office.

“Come, Tom. Sit. There are many things we need to discuss.” Dumbledore said kindly, gesturing toward the seat opposite his on the other side of his desk. Tom obliged, sitting in the squashy chair and wondering what the old man would possibly want to talk to him about. He knew the man neither liked him nor trusted him, so what was he playing at?

“Tom.” He started, pressing the tips of his fingers together as if he were thinking.

“Yes, sir?” Tom asked, annoyed that he might have to drag the information out of the man.

“As you might have realized already, the boy whose body you are currently inhabiting is famous in our world.” Dumbledore said, smiling benignly.

“Actually, sir, I haven’t. Professor Snape mentioned something about fame briefly when he thought I was lying last night, but I have no idea what it was about. Is that what I am here for sir? To learn about Harry Potter?” Tom asked, actually interested now.

“Yes, Tom. That is correct. Now, the first thing you must understand, Tom, is that this child is famous for something he cannot even remember.” Dumbledore said, and Tom considered this for a moment.

“Go on, sir.” Tom said politely, wanting to know more.

“When Harry Potter was only a year old, the Dark Lord of this era, or that is, the Dark Lord of ten years ago, went into his house, murdered his parents, and attempted to murder him. But then, something went wrong.” Dumbledore said, in what Tom thought was a very theatric way. He thought it was almost disgusting how much he knew the man was enjoying telling him this. He could tell by his mannerisms. He wasn’t unhappy at all. His mood was light and airy, almost as if discussing the weather. Not having much of a choice, Tom played along.

“What went wrong, sir?” Tom asked, feigning polite interest.

“As the story goes, the Dark Lord attempted to use the killing curse on the child, and it rebounded on him, ripping his soul from his body.” Dumbledore said, looking at Tom to gauge his reaction.

“First and foremost, sir, why on earth would he want to kill a child?” Tom asked, looking puzzled, though for some reason his heart was racing at the mention of the Dark Lord.

“Ah, as to that, no one knows Tom.” Dumbledore said, shaking his head.

“Okay, sir. I’m with you so far. So, you’re telling me that this Dark Lord could not kill single a one year old child with the killing curse? Then you’re telling me, even more ridiculous yet, that an unblockable unreflectable and undeflectable curse bounced back on him somehow and killed him?” Tom asked, shaking his head. It was almost too unbelievable to be true, and yet somehow he knew it was, though killed did not seem to be the right word in this situation. He was proven right at that last with Dumbledore’s next statements.

“Oh, not at all, Tom. Not at all. I believe, in fact, that he did not die. I believe he is still out there, less than alive but not quite dead. I do not know when he will return, Tom, but I know that he will one day. That is an eventuality I must prepare you for depending on how long you inhabit this body.” Dumbledore said, and Tom nodded, trying to ponder the implications of what the older wizard was saying.

‘So; this Dark Lord is still after Harry Potter, but why? What does this child have that the Dark Lord wants to get rid of so much?’ Tom wondered silently, his mind racing as he tried to figure out what was so special about this one child. Then, he decided to ask something he had not thought to ask yet.

“Professor?” he asked, and Dumbledore fixed him with a questioning gaze.

“Yes, Tom?” he asked with a pleasant smile.

“Who is the Dark Lord that tried to kill this boy?” Tom asked, and he felt his heart start to race with what he just identified as excitement. Dumbledore frowned.

“As to that, Tom, I cannot yet tell you. All in good time, though, my boy. All in good time.” Dumbledore said, smiling.

“Yes, sir. Is that all you needed to tell me, Professor?” Tom asked, annoyed about not being told what he wanted, but interested in the vague information he had actually gotten from the old man.

“It is, Tom. I just thought you might want the day off of classes to think about all I have told you. Everywhere you go, people will whisper about Harry Potter. They will either love you or fear you. You need to be prepared for the possibility that some might even attack you. The Dark Lord had many supporters, Tom, and not all of them were caught.” Dumbledore said, shaking his head with a grim look on his face.

“Yes sir. May I leave now?” Tom asked, eager to see if the library had any information on Harry Potter, the Dark Lord or any new jinxes that have been created over the past fifty years.

“Yes, you may. I would ask that you either return to your common room or go to the library. Keep up on your studies, Tom.” Dumbledore said, and with that, Tom got up and left the headmaster’s office, heading straight for the library. There had to be some newspaper articles about Harry Potter there somewhere. When he reached the library, he indeed found quite a few articles about that night roughly ten years ago. To his disappointment, none of the articles had any details the old man had left out. Any of the articles about the Dark Lord just held reports about attacks. They didn’t even refer to him by name, as it seemed they were even too scared to put it in print. They referred to him as ‘You-Know-Who’, or ‘He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named’. It was ridiculous and frustrating how little information they had on the man except the reports of what he was doing to the wizarding world at the time. He did find one very recent article that caught his attention but only because it was unusual; it really had nothing to do with Harry Potter or the Dark Lord.

Someone had tried to rob Gringotts, the wizard bank. If he remembered right, everyone said you had to be mad to try something like that. He had always wanted a vault there, as it would have given him another connection to his heritage, but he wouldn’t have had any money to put in it anyway. Slightly put-out that he had found no new information, he spent the rest of his would-be class time studying up on the current curriculum, and by the time lunch time rolled around, he was a bit ahead. He would continue his studies later, along with looking up any new spells that might have been invented after his hunger was assuaged. On his way to lunch, he noticed that the Gryffindors were still avoiding him and he smiled. This could definitely be fun, if nothing else. When he finally sat down at the Slytherin table for lunch, he sat with the small Slytherin group, but he stayed out of the conversation. He was still thinking about where else he might find information on Harry Potter. He couldn’t outright ask anyone except maybe Professor Snape because he knew the situation. He decided that asking him was probably the best course of action, so without consulting the group, he left after lunch to go down to the dungeons.

Unfortunately for him, the Slytherins had been too quick. Despite his best effort to leave without them, they wouldn’t let him. He almost cursed them all, but he reminded himself that he should not draw attention to himself, and that cursing his housemates would be a bad idea. Slytherins stuck together; it was a rule. It had been exactly the same fifty years ago, when he last attended, as it was a rule that Salazar Slytherin had made himself, and was therefore considered a law in Slytherin House. He sighed and put up with their inane chatter as they made their way back to the dungeons. He needed to talk to the Professor alone, but he could cast a silencing charm on the door to prevent being overheard. It was annoying, but he had been planning to take that particular precaution anyway. He almost sneered at the way the group was like a large shadow to him, but he thought about it and found that they might just end up being useful to him in the long run, so he would put up with them. They reached the office of their head of house rather quickly, and Tom held up a hand when the group moved toward the door.

“There is a matter that I must speak to the professor about.” Tom said, and when the two bigger ones, Vince and Greg if he recalled, shifted as if to follow, he turned a cold look toward them. “Alone.” He specified, his voice as cold as an iceberg. After that, all four Slytherins took a hint and backed off, leaning on the wall opposite the door. He nodded to them, then turned and knocked on the heavy door.

“Enter.” The professor said from inside the office. Tom smirked before opening the door. He wondered what it would take to make this man squirm, but quickly pressed the thought aside. He needed information, and in order to get that he needed to play nice with the man. He closed the door behind him and cast locking a locking charm on it, followed by a proximity silencing ward around the office. Then he turned to the professor to find the man watching him closely.

“Good evening, Professor Snape. I just wondered if I could ask you about Harry Potter?” he asked politely, and the man sneered.

“All you need to know, Mr. Riddle, is that he is a self-centered, arrogant fame junkie whom struts about the castle as if he owns the place. I am surprised he even ended up in Slytherin. The child is a consummate Gryffindor if I’ve ever met one. He has no sense of self control, and he purposely lets his classmates fail around him to make himself look better. Potter is blown much out of proportion, Mr. Riddle, as is his reputation. You would do well not to act like Potter, and if anyone asks, just tell them you’ve had an epiphany or something of the sort. No one would guess what has actually happened, and as much as I hate to admit it, you would make Potter a much better person, at least to those outside the know, if you just acted as yourself instead of trying to act like him.” Professor Snape said, and Tom’s lip tried to curl in disgust at the man but he didn’t let it.

‘It sounds as if he really hates Potter. What he says seems in conflict with what I’ve learned so far. If Potter was a consummate Gryffindor, the Slytherins would all hate him, but seeing as he’s got a group of them protecting him that are actually, dare I say, friends with him, that this teacher must be wrong. Maybe his view is skewed by the hatred, but what reason does he have to hate a child? What could Potter have possibly done to make this man hate him so?’ he wondered, studying the man before him as he was studied in return. He decided to ask for a bit more information. For some reason, he felt he needed to know as much about Potter as he could. He could ask about the Dark Lord after he was through with this. The thing that Tom loathed, though, was that his need to know about Potter was bordering on obsession. It was even more than his need to know about the Dark Lord. He hated it so, because he was never obsessed with anything! Others were obsessed with him! He did not do long term commitments, and obsession counted as long term. As much as it bothered him, though, it did not stop the seeming need to know everything about Potter, and so he asked another question.

“Could I have a bit more information, Professor, just in case the need does arise for me to act like him? I would need to know his mannerisms, and such; how he acts and how he would react in a given situation. Maybe some more information on why he is famous, so that I do not seem uninformed about ‘my own’ past, as it were.” Tom said with a look of polite interest on his face.

“I am afraid that I cannot tell you too much about that, Mr. Riddle, as even I myself am as uninformed as the rest of the world on that matter. All anyone, including Potter, knows, is what you’ve no doubt already read and what the Headmaster has told you. Everything else remains a mystery to this day.” Professor Snape said, and for some reason Tom could tell that he was lying, but he let it slide for the moment. He was just getting to the part that made his heart race for some reason every time it was mentioned.

“Sir, one more question, if I may. Could you tell me anything about the Dark Lord?” Tom asked, his stomach twisting nervously as it never had before. This was it. He might finally find out why it was that he was obsessed with Harry Potter, and why just hearing about the Dark Lord made his heart race with excitement.

End Ch.