"Potter, we need to talk."
He stopped, looking back to where two of his fellow Slytherins stood. Daphne Greengrass and her friend, Tracey Davis. The boy could only vaguely recall them from his time but knew from the few interactions in this new one that they were at least decent people. "What about?"
The heiress answered, "Where did you learn to be so good at defense?" It was a bit forceful, demanding even, and any good-willed curiosity he had quickly evaporated. Apparently, those in his own class were just big of prats as older Slytherins.
Big surprise there.
"I learned it in class." Not a lie, he didn't say when after all.
Still, the Pureblood didn't seem happy with the answer, and was clearly about to make a comment about it when her friend interrupted. "It was really impressive, that's why we were wondering, weren't we Daphne ."
It was about as subtle as a Gryffindor crashing through a window on a broom, but still served the get the point across. Said girl merely huffed before crossing her arms and nodding, although clearly unhappy about it.
"Actually, we were hoping that maybe, you could give us a few points."
Greengrass scoffed, earning another glare from her friend, while Harry remained silent. It was oddly reminiscent of his fifth year, Dumbledore's army had been fun, even if it was for a terrible necessity. Suddenly, memories flashed before his eyes. He had led them into a trap, they had been fighting for their lives, not just Sirius but Ron, Ginny, Hermione, Luna, and Neville.
What if they had been hurt? What if they had been depending on him and then he had failed? What if...
"Harry?"
Tracey's, far softer and with a hint of concern, tone ripped him from being lost in his own head. "Uh, I mean I guess but it is mostly just what the professor said in class. Focusing on your Magic, shaping it, then pushing it through your wand like water through a pipe."
That, apparently, was not what Riddle had said based on the confused expressions on their faces.
"I uhm... need to go." The male Potter fled before they could say anything further.
****
Harry had begun, perhaps for the first time in his life, dreading the upcoming weekend and his first 'assignment' with his Head of House. Part of him considered just hiding somewhere for the two days. He had no classes and little homework so it wouldn't be impossible and add onto that the skills he had picked up by avoiding students during some of his more turbulent years at Hogwarts and he had faith that such activity would not be impossible.
It would mean a rather boring weekend though, something he assumed might be happening a lot in the years to come. He needed something else to do, something to focus on that wasn't Quidditch or saving the world. At that moment another, slightly twisted, idea came to mind. There was no Hagrid, which meant the Stone's protections would be different. What would be the first 'trial' be to defend the stone?
He shouldn't check, and he knew this. It was none of his business and if anything, he really should stay as far away from that corridor as possible for the rest of the school year. Let someone else deal with the life-or-death situations for once, let someone else clean up after the adults.
'Like your sisters?'
That single argument froze the blood in his veins. The first time they had been lucky, more than lucky really, that someone hadn't been hurt or worse. What if Amy and Harriet weren't? What if Hermione joined them and was hurt? What if whoever was after it went after them? There was no Dark Lord, that meant no blood protections or weaknesses like in his world.
Without further delay he headed in the direction he was initially avoiding. He would be damned if he sat by and did nothing while those he cared about were harmed.
****
"Harry, what are you doing here?"
He spun, anger already twisting onto his face. She had no right to use his first name, to pretend as if they were friends. "I'd ask you the same thing, professor."
But Riddle did not fall into his trap, "This corridor is off limits to students."
Harry looked back and forth with a bit of exaggeration. "I don't see any signs though and I haven't heard the Headmistress say anything. Maybe you shouldn't be here either."
Grace's hand snapped forward, grabbing his forearm, and started to pull him away from the forbidden area. "It is dangerous, and you are not permitted to…"
"Is there a problem here?"
The Defense professor, still dragging Harry towards the opposing end of the corridor, turned to face the newcomer.
Serena Snape
"I am escorting Harry from the restricted area." Riddle answered, a slight bite in her tone which had the Potion's mistress raising an eyebrow.
Suddenly, Snape had her Wand in her hand, "You will do so without gripping his arm."
Riddle blinked in confusion, before glancing down at where her own fingers squeezed tightly around the boy, the one with pain flickering across his face. She loosened immediately, and Harry immediately pulled himself free.
"Mr. Potter, are you…"
Serena's question was never finished, and Harry snapped out a retaliatory "I'm fine." Before storming off, anger, pain, and embarrassment in his posture.
Grace looked ready to move after him, but the other woman stopped her once more, "And what were you doing here Riddle?"
Her eyes lingered on shadows retreating down the hall before composure returned to her. "I was checking the security."
"Were you?" There was accusation in Snape's question, one that Riddle did not care for in the least. Regardless, it was not the other teacher's place to question or make accusations and thus the Head of Slytherin departed in the same direction that the boy had fled, though at a distinctly slower pace.
****
In another time, in another place Harry might have acted differently, might have taken on the burden himself and tried to fix the problem as he always had. Not this time though, he was tired of solving all the problems himself, tired of cleaning up every mess that the so-called adults left behind for someone else to deal with.
Most of all he was tired of being ignored and having to deal with professors trying to harm or kill him. His own fifth year flash in his mind as he hastened through the halls, gritting his teeth as irritation built.
He would damn well make Dumbledore listen, even if he had to scream it in her bloody face. Eventually, the boy found her. She was making her way down towards the Great Hall, likely for a meal. "Headmistress" He called out, picking up his pace even as she turned to face him.
"Ah Harry, how have your classes been?"
Ignoring the question, he pressed on with his original concerns, "I need to speak with you, ma'am, it's important."
The woman nodded, but it didn't seem confirming or denying, merely acknowledging, "I'm just about to go to lunch, we can speak after."
"It's very important," he tried again, putting more stress in his voice as he neared. He had forgotten how difficult it could be to move quickly when he was eleven, and undersized.
"I'm sure it is Harry, and I will be happy to talk with you about it later, but I always found that a full stomach helps put things into perspective." She wasn't listening and he couldn't help but remember all the times this had happened before. Being ignored by Dumbledore and so many other adults, being brushed off, being told not to make a scene.
His fourth year.
Kill the spare
"It's about the third-floor corridor, ma'am, on the right side, involving a certain red stone." This single statement froze the woman, and she turned back towards him, eyes widening in shock. "Do I have your attention now?"
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