Adjectives| The Riddle | Mae

[Mae]

°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`° The Riddle °º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°

“Why did you ask me to visit then, Ginny?” Harry asked as the Fat Lady swung shut behind him. Ginny’s hazel eyes were lost in the fireplace of the Gryffindor Common Room, staring at the wood as it ebbed away into ash. “Hermione told me about the search for the Horcru-” Ginny began before Harry shushed her, quickly joining her on the old couch.

“So you know what.. what a horcrux is?” Harry said quietly, ask if the walls had suddenly sprouted invisible ears. He knew how Slughorn felt about the mere mention of the word and he didn’t want anyone overhearing the conversation.

“Yes.” Ginny admitted, switching her glance from the flames to Harry’s urgent eyes. “I need to tell you about something. Somewhere more private than here. Is that okay?” Ginny asked. Harry nodded, and they threw on their coats together and headed out into the Grounds as a group of laughing students began to slip through the Fat Lady painting.

It was cold outside and Harry stuck his hands into his coat pockets for warmth as they walked away from the school, eventually settling on some rocks near the steps leading down to Hagrid’s hut. “What is it you wanted to tell me, Ginny?” Harry asked, mist escaping from his lips as he spoke. Ginny picked up a small rock from beneath her, analysing it as she spoke. “There’s another Horcrux nobody knows about. Only Voldemort and one death eater even know of its existence. Hermione now too.”

Harry didn’t quite expect Ginny to know about an actual Horcrux. She seemed so certain. “Where? Ginny, you should have told me this before—“ Harry began, but Ginny’s stare stopped him.

“The Horcrux is a diary. Voldemort had a blank diary when he was a student at Hogwarts and he made it into a horcrux.” Ginny sighed. “It was his first horcrux, obviously. I found the diary in my cauldron a couple of years ago. I never knew what it was, I thought it was an ordinary little diary. I wouldn’t have kept it, but there was something weird about it. Sort of enchanting.” Ginny looked at Harry, her eyes welling up with regret and bad memories.

“I kept it. I wrote in it, and someone wrote back. It was lovely, having someone to talk to about things. Someone to keep all your secrets. But it was doing something to me, casting some sort of spell on me. Hermione caught me one night writing in chicken blood on the walls of the school, some scary stuff.” Ginny swallowed.

“We got rid of the book. We couldn’t destroy it, so I buried it in the grounds. Hermione wanted to hand it in, but I didn’t want to get in trouble for the whole.. chicken blood thing.” Ginny shook her head. “Only, now Hermione thinks it was a horcrux. She found it again, but she doesn’t want to stay around it for too long without us there. It’s quite.. manipulative.” Ginny said, glancing over her shoulder at the school. Delores was gaining strength at the school, and she was going after Dumbledore’s Army. She didn’t like students wandering around the grounds together, although as a pair they shouldn’t get into too much trouble.

“Well then, there’s no time better than the present, Ginny. Do you know where Hermione is?” Harry said, standing and beginning the walk back to the school.

~Originally Written by Adjectives.

---

Hermione wandered about aimlessly around the library. Every now and then she would pause and think about the situation. At first she didn't want Ginny to go and find Harry all on her own. God knows what the pair would get up to whilst left alone. Hermione proposed on going with her, but the girl refused saying it would be quicker if she went. As the redhead left the library Hermione bit her lip. It was stupid not to trust Ginny. After all she was 16 and this wasn't really the time to get up to any mischief.

Hemione racked her brain. The information from the book in The Restricted section of the library had somewhat stuck in her brain, and being, well...Hermione, the girl had memorized half of the actual book itself.

A Horcrux is a powerful object in which a Dark wizard or witch has hidden a fragment of his or her soul for the purpose of attaining immortality. Creating one Horcrux gives one the ability to resurrect oneself if the body is destroyed; the more horcruxes one creates, the closer one is to true immortality. Creating multiple Horcruxes is suggested to be costly to the creator, by both diminishing their humanity and even physically disfiguring them.
Horcruxes can also be destroyed. If a person's body was destroyed, his or her soul would remain intact, whereas with a Horcrux it is the opposite, as the piece of soul depends upon its container to survive. Destruction of a Horcrux is difficult, but not impossible, and requires that the receptacle to be damaged completely beyond physical or magical repair. When a Horcrux is damaged to this point, it may appear to "bleed" and a scream may be heard as the soul fragment perishes.


It is unknown if the creator of the Horcrux will be able to sense that his soul fragment was destroyed, although Dumbledore stated that in the particular case of Voldemort, he wouldn't feel their loss because his soul was sliced too many times and stayed that way for too long.


All known methods of Horcrux destruction are as deadly as the murder needed for its creation. For example, the earliest known method is administering basilisk venom to the Horcrux, the only cure for which is phoenix tears, an extremely rare substance. Other known methods are Fiendfyre, which requires extreme skill to control and the Killing Curse which seems to be capable of destroying a Horcrux if it is animate.

Hermione sighed. Where on earth would they find basilisk venom? And since the diary wasn't exactly a human they couldn't cast a killing curse on it. The brunette did a few rounds of the deserted room again. She was half surprised that Filch (or Ms. Norris) hadn't made a round of inspection here yet. In fact it had almost been too quiet for the most part of the time the two girls were there. Hermione was prepared, however, for the coming of the janitor. The invisibility cloak was swung over her shoulders concealing her body beneath the neck. Anyone wandering past would have seen a floating head, and most likely had a heart attack of some sort. But in any case, if she heard any footsteps, Hermione was ready to pull the cloak over her head. Tired of walking around in circles the girl sat down, her back leaning against a bookshelf, and tried to remember another part of the book.

The fragments of a person's soul within a Horcrux can think for themselves and have certain magical abilities, including the ability to influence those in their vicinity. Someone of a good nature would lose their abilites of performing any spells (i.e. the patronus charm). A person with an affinity for the Dark Arts, on the other hand, would be strengthened by the influence of a Horcrux. If a person is more emotionally vulnerable, it is possible for the soul inside the Horcrux to take control of him or her.

Hermione bit her lip again, this time a lot harder, she swore under her breath tasting blood. What on earth must have poor Ginny felt that year when she and the diary had managed to make such a strong collection? That night when Hermione found Ginny in the corridor writing that message on the wall in blood Hermione was absolutely terrified. The girl she pulled away from the wall was definitely not the same Ginny she knew. The girl she helped kept on muttering something about someone called Tom, she said that if she helped him her life would get better, something about him being the only one that understood her. Hermione had scoffed at 'Ginny' and almost dragged the young girl away from the scene. It took hours of scrubbing to get all the blood off Ginny, and for her senses to return. When she had finally woken up from the trance Ginny would cry to Hermione. During the nights she had nightmares and would run to Hermione for help almost everyday. That was what made the two closer than ever. When the nightmares became worse, and came more often, Hermione knew that the only thing left to do was get rid of the diary once and for all. She let Ginny find the perfect place to hide it, but it wasn't very good since these few years later Hermione had managed to dig it up and do some research. What she found was a lot more than she had bargained for.

Horcruxes also possess some last line of defence against destruction. The fragment of soul within the Horcrux seems to be able to sense impending threats and can act to defend itself—

Footsteps. Hermione paused her train of thought, the words still racing through her mind. Her heart started beating faster as she swung the invisibility cloak over her head hiding herself completely. The footsteps became louder and louder and she knew that someone was definitely creeping around the library. The brunette could have sworn that her heart was beating so loud that the person had paused hearing it pounding against her chest. Then the door to the library opened and Hermione closed her eyes. A whisper came from somewhere on her right. She heard her name and opened her eyes. The familiar voice of Ginny called her name from not far away. She pulled the cloak off her body and saw Ginny standing on the other end of the book shelf. She smiled at the redhead who was leading Harry, looking proud for bringing back Harry as if he was some sort of artifact that the girl had to find for a quest.

Hermione nodded at Harry.

"So now you know about the diary, Harry. I think you are strong enough to do what I have planned for you." she sniffed in the air, trying to calm down her heart rate which was still sky rocketing. "I have a certain idea. We need the soul of He Who Shall- Vol...demort.. to open up to us. You are the key to that Harry. I'm sure Voldemorts soul would love talking to you. Unlike Ginny you are a lot stronger, you can defy his power and stand up to him. In the mean time me and Ginny can find something to destroy the Horcrux with. I'm sure that if the soul is a lot more open it will make it weaker, meaning it will be easier to 'kill'." She paused and waited for the pair to take this information in. "So what do you think...?". She swallowed, waiting for the verdict.

[Adjectives]

"So where is Hermione then? It's near enough curfew, if Delores catches--" Harry quite nearly hissed to Ginny as they tried to walk down the corridor inconspicuously, despite moving away from the Gryffindor Common room after curfew. A teacher wearing a long purple feathered hat mowed by them, too preoccupied with a book to notice the pair.
"The library. Forbidden section." Ginny whispered in reply, moving briskly along the corridor. Harry felt a bubble of dread in his stomach; he'd been to the forbidden section enough times in his life and it was never a pleasant experience to be stalked around by the beady eyed Filch.

Eventually they reached the library which despite being stocked with tens of thousands of books on shelves which touched the ceiling, you could probably hear a pin drop. They moved quickly and quietly towards the restricted section, and a flourish of Ginny's wand separated the ropes covering the area. Somehow, the forbidden section seemed remarkably darker than the rest of the library. As they sneaked around, Harry was sure that they saw the glint of Irma Pince's eyes although if it was her she would have surely exploded at the sight of them there.

After a while of Ginny whispering for Hermione, Hermione's whole body popped into existence as if by apparating. Harry nodded in reply to Hermione when she nodded, and moved quietly towards her with Ginny.
"So now you know about the diary, Harry. I think you are strong enough to do what I have planned for you." she sniffed in the air, trying to calm down her heart rate which was still sky rocketing. "I have a certain idea. We need the soul of He Who Shall- Vol...demort.. to open up to us. You are the key to that Harry. I'm sure Voldemorts soul would love talking to you. Unlike Ginny you are a lot stronger, you can defy his power and stand up to him. In the mean time me and Ginny can find something to destroy the Horcrux with. I'm sure that if the soul is a lot more open it will make it weaker, meaning it will be easier to 'kill'." She paused and waited for the pair to take this information in. "So what do you think...?". She swallowed, waiting for the verdict.

The silence of the library was piercing in the time that Harry took to think it over. "We're not really going to have many other chances if we leave it, are we?" Harry whispered, looking down at the small black diary which Hermione clutched in her hand. Voldemort's soul. "I can talk to a diary for a while. He killed my parents. I won't do anything it wants." Harry said, moving forward quickly and taking the diary from Hermione's hands.
"It's hard to tell what it wants, Harry. It's like they're you're own thoughts." Ginny said, watching as Harry sat at one of the small wooden desks at the end of the bookshelf and cast a small Lumos charm over the book.
"Go on, quickly find whatever it is you need to kill it." Harry said dismissively, watching as they reluctantly left, their footsteps fading away. Harry listened to the sound of Hermione loosely tying the rope before silence returned to the library.

He summoned up a spare quill and pot of ink to the desk before he opened the diary. He stared down at the slightly yellowed pages which didn't look more than a few years old, surprised that there wasn't a single mark in it. He scratched the quill across the page.
Hello, I am Harry Potter. He wrote, looking over the ink. Almost instantly, the ink faded away into the old page which water into a sponge.
Hello, Harry Potter. I am Tom Riddle. The words faded onto the page, the handwriting completely unique. The eeriness of it almost forced Harry to look around him in case any apparitions had appeared in the dusty old shadows, but he focused on the page. As he raised his quill to write a reply, more words suddenly appeared on the page.
Help me. The words appeared, written quite erratically.

Harry looked up as the pot of ink on the desk began to shake. He could feel a tingling across his entire body, as if all his hairs were standing on edge. The room seemed to vibrate more every second, and splashes of colour darted through the shadows, soon accompanied by swirls of lights of every brightness. The room seemed to be collapsing soundlessly; collapsing into what, Harry wasn't sure. He could barely make out the outlines of the diary beneath him, nor see his hands in front of his face. He reached forward in an effort to slam the diary shut, but even the outline of the diary vanished.

He was spinning. Spinning down into the ground, into a vortex of colours and noises. Doors slamming, glass smashing, students laughing. The noises became more and more brief, and the vortex was spinning faster and faster whilst Harry felt like his body was going to tear apart into a thousand pieces. I am Harry Potter. I am Harry Potter. Remember. I am Harry Potter. Harry thought. He wouldn't stay under this spell, whatever it was. He had to remember who he was, what he was doing.

Suddenly, he slammed to a stop as if the breaks had suddenly been applied. Although at the same time he didn't slam into anything at all. He was lying on the wooden floorboards of the forbidden section of the library not too far from where he was sitting. The morning sun was breaking through the old castle windows and filling up the massive room.
After a moment, Harry sat up. His head was still spinning but the vortex was gone, at least. The diary must have knocked him out, somehow.
He looked around but he couldn't see the desk anywhere, nor the ink pot or quill. The diary was nowhere to be seen. Maybe someone had taken it? It was real. It was there, right there. Between those two bookcases. Harry assured himself. The diary must have somehow escaped. It's probably jinxed. I should go find Hermione. I wonder why she never found me? Harry thought, pushing himself up onto his feet and leaving the library.

[Mae]

1943 - 48 Years Ago -

Tom woke up early in the morning. He gave out a sigh and looked at his fellow Slytherin's. All asleep. His face turned into something of disgust. Even though it was early in the morning, and his friends had the perfect right to sleep, he still thought they were lazy. Wiping his eyes, he pulled his robes on, and walked out of the dorm silently. The Slytherin Common Room was empty. Of course. No one ever bothered to stay inside. The green glow and the dampness of the room made it seem unfriendly and cold. Tom didn't mind, but it got a bit lonely sometimes. But then again, Tom was an exception to nearly every Slytherin there ever was. First of all Tom was a prefect. A real prefect that was. One that didn't give out punishments for random reasons, didn't pick on other houses, one that actually took his role seriously. Secondly, he was a perfect A* student. He gave in his homework on time, came to every lesson, and strangely was every teachers favorite. Third of all, he was...different. Everyone thought so. Even he sometimes thought so himself, he just didn't completely know why. Oh, and one couldn't forget to mention his good looks, the kid always had girls at his feet, hell he even made Professor. Merrythought blush sometimes.

He wandered out into the dungeons. A cold shiver passed through his body. Blowing on his hands to keep warm he quickly and swiftly made his way up to the library. A place where he liked to spend most of his time. Either doing homework, talking to girls, or just reading. The library was the best at this time of day. No giggling girls wandering about gossiping about the next ball or party that was being thrown for no reason at all. A he got closer to the room he most longed he heard someones footsteps. Who on earth was awake at this time? It was the first time Tom had ever heard anyone awake at the same time as him. He started walking slower. When he reached the library he noticed someone moving. For a few minutes he pondered whether this was just Irma wandering about organizing the books
into alphabetical order again, but as he looked closer he noticed that the figure was about his height, and that it was definitely a student.

Curiously he opened the door to the library. He poked his head through and walked in. The kid was looking around the shelves, he had obviously lost something, now he was making a rather pathetic effort at trying to find it. When the boy turned around Tom realized that he was the same age as himself. But yet, Tom had never seen the boy in his whole life. Maybe the factor was that the boy had a gold and red tie, and Tom's glistened in green and silver, but the latter was pretty sure he knew everyone in the school. Turns out he was mistaken. He had never seen this boy in his life. He didn't even look like something that belonged here. He had black messy hair, round glasses, baggy clothes, showing he was rather skinny, deep green eyes, and that scar. Smack bang in the middle of his forehead. Tom thought that this boy looked rather pathetic.

"Erm, excuse me.." He started, just in case the boy hadn't noticed him, even though they were looking into each others eyes. "...Do you need any help? You look either lost or you've lost something..?" Tom said in his soft, smooth voice, with that little permanent smirk on his face. He thought it was funny that this kid was wandering about so early on his own, just like Tom himself, they were so similar in a way, although so different at the same time. Tom walked up to the kid and extended his hand. "Nice to meet you, I'm Tom. Tom Marvolo Riddle." The last two words he hissed out, they were like a scar to him, something he was left with after a great injury that brought shame to his life.

[Adjectives]

Harry had quickly left the restricted section, seeing no indication of Irma. He never had to really come to the library this early, except for the occasion of the Triwizard Tournament last year when he was searching the Forbidden section for some spell to help him for the underwater challenge. He shivered at the thought of swallowing that Gillyweed again.

Moving in between the desks and bookshelves, Harry cast his eyes around in search of the diary in case it happened to be nearby. The library didn't seem quite right, the lamps were all completely different and even more old fashioned looking than usual. Certain sections had moved; the Senior Potions section was gone, replaced by Advanced Transfiguration. Why would someone move around the sections of the library overnight? He rubbed his forehead in confusion; he really needed to find Hermione. Or Ginny. Anyone.

Harry noticed something move behind one of the bookcases to his right. There was someone here already? Harry looked up at the space above the door where the large clock was, noticing it was still there. It was six thirty in the morning, however the hands of the grand clock were silver rather than golden and it seemed much newer than before.
"Erm, excuse me.." A smooth, eloquent voice said in front of him. Harry looked forward, noticing the Slytherin boy looking at him with his eyebrows raised. He looked quite tidy in an old fashioned sort of sense; the way in which his hair was cut like was normal in the nineteen-fourties. His uniform clung to him primp and properly, worn as it should be; no top button out of place, tie hanging slack or shirt untucked.
"Yes?" Harry said, his eyes meeting the boy's dark eyes. They seemed humoured by his presence.
"...Do you need any help? You look either lost or you've lost something..?" He said in a smooth, silky way with a slight smirk traced across his thin lips.
"I'm.. not quite sure, actually. I think I hit my head or something." Harry said, focusing on the boy. Who was he? Why hadn't Harry seen him in the last five years?
"Nice to meet you, I'm Tom. Tom Marvolo Riddle."

Harry opened his mouth and extended his hand to introduce himself, but something stopped him. The words froze in his mind, paralysing him. His conversations with Slughorn, Dumbledore and everyone else about Tom seemed to spring to his mind. Dumbledore lamenting of when he met Tom in the orphanage, of how he wished he'd known what he'd become. Slughorn speaking about the first time that Tom had visited him, seeking to find out more about horcruxes. The words mixed together, and all the voices resembled one thing. Regret.
His first instinct was to reach for his wand. Do what everyone else had wished they'd done. Stop him before he killed. Stop Voldemort before he had a chance to rise to power. He wasn't sure why he didn't try, why he didn't hurl a curse at him right then. It was confusing; had he travelled back in time? Was he hallucinating? Was he meant to kill him? He needed to think. To plan.

"Hi.. Tom." Harry said, after what seemed like forever. He moved his hand towards Tom's, a shiver moving down his spine. He was touching the hand of a murderer. A mass murderer.
"I'm Harry." He said, omitting his surname. He took back his hand. "Sorry, I should be going Tom. I'll see you around." Harry apologised numbly, stepping away from Tom. So many thoughts were flying through his mind that it seemed to descend into white noise, and he wandered through the corridors noticing more and more inconsistencies. None of the classrooms were where they were meant to be. All of the posters were where they were meant to be. The glass case full of trophies was replaced by completely different ones, dated with awards given in the 1910's and one from 1894. His father's Chaser award was gone, replaced by someone called Ivan Black.

Eventually, Harry found himself in the boys bathroom leaning against the sink feeling quite dizzy and overwhelmed. Somehow, he wasn't in the nineties anymore; he was somewhere in the fourties. Tom Riddle was in the library somewhere looking at books, but why would the diary send him back in time? Was he meant to kill Tom, even if Tom hadn't killed anyone yet?
He looked down at his hands, noticing they were shaking. He didn't want to be stuck back in time, and he didn't want to go to Azkaban. Noticing a rectangular shape through his robes, Harry reached into his pocket and drew out an envelope with the Hogwarts waxy seal on it.
He frowned as he opened it, recognising it instantly. It was his acceptance letter, but it was signed by Armando Dippet. The previous headmaster of Hogwarts, before Dumbledore was instated.
At least Harry knew Dumbledore was still at the school teaching transfiguration, which served as some comfort.

Harry breathed deeply and looked up as his own reflection. He smiled a little to himself; he could fix this. He just needed to remind Dippet he was a student here and try and stop Tom from creating a horcrux.
I've done more difficult things. Harry reminded himself. He spun on his heels and set off to find Armando and secure himself a place in Hogwarts all over again, making up an excuse as he went.

Twenty Minutes Later

Harry eventually reached Armando's office, which was one of the few things that hadn't moved over the past fifty years. He knocked on the door, and a deep, fatigued voice beckoned him through. Harry stepped inside the office, which hadn't seemed to have changed much. His eyes met a middle aged, balding man wearing long blue and golden robes which Harry imagined were quite fashionable in the wizarding community back then.
"Well? Are you just going to stand there all day?" The tired looking man grumbled, looking up from a messy stack of papers.
"Sorry, headmaster." Harry began, reaching into his robes to pull out his acceptance letter. Harry moved forward to the man's desk, folding his hands behind his back. It seemed smart to try and be as subservient as possible around an authoritative figure back then; the last thing he wanted was to be caned or something.

"I'm Harry Potter, I've recently transferred here from WADA." Harry began, but the man cocked an eyebrow and let out a chuckle.
"WADA? The Wizarding Academy of Dramatic Arts? The one which only opened a few years ago?" He exclaimed, leaning back in his chair with a humoured grin.
"Yes sir. The problem is my paperwork seems to have been gotten lost with the owls and I don't appear to be on any registers or class timetables." Harry explained, handing over his acceptance letter. The headmaster sighed and took it, shifting his reading glasses up his nose to read it over.
"Well, I've signed it, that's clear. My memory isn't quite what it used to be. Tell me, Mr Potter, what did you study at WADA?" The headmaster asked, his expression a mixture between humour and intrigue.

Harry paused for a moment. He hadn't thought he'd ask him this. "Well, much the same as here. In Charms we'd apply it towards theatrical purposes. Lighting effects and so on. Transfiguration was very good, lots of practise in creating versatile props-"
"Ah, interesting." Armando nodded, and the door behind Harry opened again. "I'll have this sorted with the Ministry Department of Education. Lost paperwork can take weeks to resurface, but I'm sure it will. In the meantime, you may return to your Dormitory Mr Potter. Your class timetable will be sent along to you soon." He said, returning to his paperwork. He wasn't as bad as Harry expected him to be.
Harry thanked him and left, feeling better about the whole situation already.

[Mae]

Tom raised an eyebrow. The boy in front of him looked rather confused when the former introduced himself.

"Hi.. Tom." The boy choked out his words, like he couldn't say Tom's name normally. "I'm Harry." he added shortly. Tom felt quite offended. "Sorry, I should be going Tom. I'll see you around."

Tom nearly grabbed the boy's arm to stop him, but decided to let him go. Why was he so suddenly leaving? Tom sensed slight fear coming from the boy. Out of instinct the raven looked into the glass in front of him. There was nothing with his face or anything... He sighed, and followed the boy from far behind. The stranger didn't even notice. How careless... At first Tom thought that maybe the boy was returning to his common room, caught like that by Tom in the library, maybe he was embarrassed? Tom was rather shocked to see the boy make a turn and step into the boys toilets. He didn't follow him in. Then it would be pretty obvious that Tom was following him. He waited patiently around the corner for Harry to come out. Was the boy crying? Tom waited for at least 10 minutes before the boy finally stepped out. When he opened the door Tom noticed he was holding an letter that looked vaguely familiar somehow. Where had he seen that stamp before?

The boy stumbled around the school for a while, trying to find something once more, which somewhat amused Tom. A smirk crawled onto the raven's face and he couldn't help but smile. After about twenty minutes Harry had reached his destination. The headmasters office? What does he want the headmaster for? Tom leaned against the door listening closely to the conversation between the two, as Harry stepped into the room.

Harry Potter. What an unusual name, never heard of it before.. The Wizarding Academy of Dramatic Arts? Bet he's gay. Tom chuckled to himself again. Lost paperwork, new classes, dormitory. Tom could only hear very vague things coming from the office as if the two had began to use hushed voices. When Professor Dippet had spoken his last words Tom moved away from the door and hurried down the staircase. But he didn't leave the corridor, no, he was going to wait for this 'Harry Potter'. That's why Tom had never heard of him before.

"Transfer student my ass." he muttered. There was no way Tom was going to believe all that crap that the teen had mustered out.

Harry stepped out and started walking. Tom followed silently behind, not speaking, the boy was still too stupid to realize he was being followed. Tom sighed.

"So, the Wizarding Academy of Dramatic Arts, eh?" he spoke, finally, scoffing slightly. "I must say, we don't get transfer students very often, I'll help you get around if you want?" Tom offered kindly, smiling at the boy curiously.

The first step to finding out what this kid was up to was to make friends with him. If he was going to give up the secret they needed to develop trust. Tom was good at that, gaining people's trust, he owned a few people's and was rather proud at this achievement. There was something about Tom that no one could resist. The girls would fall in love and the guys would fight over being his best friend. He couldn't deny that he liked the attention but sometimes this weird attraction was annoying and Tom wished that people would just leave him alone. That's why he secluded himself from everyone. But even in the library people would find him. The girls would always manage to stalk him down, unlike the guys they didn't mind sitting with Tom in the library. They even did his homework sometimes, and Tom was grateful, although he was fine doing it himself. There were some people that just liked to sit near him, in his presence, he never quite understood it, but he let it slip past.

Tom wandered whether this guy would be a harder nut to tackle. Either way, there was no chance that Tom was backing down, they were going to be friends, whether either of them liked it or not.

[Adjectives]

Harry began walking down the stairs to return to the common room; he dreaded the thought of meaning a bunch of boys from the fourties, listening to talks of an ensuing war, or even having to listen to ignorant comments typical of the time. Then there was the question of his effect there. He didn't want to change everything for the worse, and he knew that even being seen by someone could cause that. It's a bit too late for that now. He reminded himself when he heard light footsteps behind him.

Before he could turn around, Tom's smooth voice had already met his ears. "So, the Wizarding Academy of Dramatic Arts, eh?" he said, scoffing slightly. Harry turned and looked at Tom, now standing at the foot of the stairs. A slight cool breeze rolled in through the wide open oak doors, filling the corridor with the fresh smell of the Grounds. Harry tried to focus on the smell of the air and exhale his fear. It was just Tom, a harmless school boy. Relatively harmless. "Yeah." Harry replied nonchalantly, leaning against the staircase. "It seemed like less work. Turns out I'm a terrible actor anyway." Harry laughed slightly, regretting he had ever made up the stupid lie.

"I must say, we don't get transfer students very often, I'll help you get around if you want?" Tom offered kindly, smiling at the boy curiously. Harry was ready to refuse him, but he quickly thought better of it. Tom was why he was here, Tom was who he had to stop. He didn't know how much time he had left here to change the future.
Maybe Tom could be swayed to the better side. Why else would Tom offer to help a new student around the school?
"Really?" Harry said. "Alright, sure. Thanks for asking." Harry said, waiting for Tom to reach the foot of the stairs.

"Where to first?" Harry said, casually slipping his hands into his pockets and looking at Tom. He never had really properly looked at him before. It was uncanny how different his face looked. It was so perfectly symmetrical, so chiselled, so handsome. For a moment he found himself waiting for Tom to smirk again, or speak in his self-assured way, but then he snapped out of it.

"So, tell me a bit about yourself whilst we walk. I take it you like reading? Being the library so early today and all."