Disclaimer: I own nothing. JK Rowling’s universe/ characters.

Summary: AU: GREY/LIGHT!HARRY Slash LVHP: Harry’s a Magus, the problem is, he doesn’t want that freakish power and hides his talent. Professor Riddle, a rising Dark Lord, sees through him and tries to court Harry away from Quidditch and into his circle of wizarding politics. Being raised by Sirius, Harry tries to make his godfather proud by being someone who he thinks Sirius wants him to be.

Chapter One

Harry leaned his head on his hand, bored as hell…if not a little frightened. He was always frightened when he entered this class. It’s been this way for six whole years. There wasn’t much he could do to dissipate his fear, considering Defense Against the Dark Arts was required through the end of his years at Hogwarts.

Don’t get him wrong, he wasn’t scared of Professor Riddle, Merlin no- he wasn’t a Hufflepuff, he was only aware what the man was doing. Being ancient, but looking as if he were in his early thirties, girls swooned him. They literally drooled as they watched him teach up front. What was so special about him anyway? Harry glanced at the professor beneath his thick lashes, assessing Professor Riddle. The man had black, almost blue hair, which was organized neatly on the top of his head. He had sharp cheekbones and prominent facial features- and deep dark eyes.

Nothing that special.

The professor was a great public speaker, Harry would give him that. Riddle motioned with his hands as he spoke and gave eye contact to seemingly everyone. Speaking of which, dark eyes drilled into him and Harry looked away- bored. He repressed a shiver.

Tom Riddle was known greatly throughout the wizarding world. From his charm and his knowledge, the man was almost as popular as the Minister himself. Many of the people wanted Riddle as Minister, but for some reason, the man always turned the position down- preferring to influence the mind of youngsters.

Brainwashing more like it.

Harry snorted as he remembered Sirius’ take on Professor Riddle. His guardian had told him Riddle was up to no good- conversing with students, especially purebloods and Slytherins- or those that showed a special talent. There had been no war sine Grindelwald, but Sirius thought if the wizarding world were to have another Dark Lord; Riddle would sure take up that position quickly, if he hadn’t already. Harry had to agree, Riddle showed interest and favored those students who shined and he radiated power that seemed to attract other’s attentions.

Riddle wasn’t declared Dark by any means- in fact- he seemed to exude a powerful air of light and dangerous magic, no evil magic. And he didn’t teach any Dark Art’s in his class either. No, Riddle was mostly brainwashing the children to favor him, to come to him for problems and such. Harry wasn’t going to fall for Riddle’s charms. Ever. He knew there was something more to Riddle and the wizards and witches he courted on his side. Perhaps a cult or something similar…

His parent’s hadn’t liked Riddle either- before they died. They had died together one night on their way home from the Ministry where they had worked. The Ministry examined the murder and claimed it was a rouge wizard, killing out of insanity and physiatrist problems. Rest assured, they arrested Peter Pettigrew and threw him in Azkaban where he was still rotting away. His parents died more than seven years ago just before he entered Hogwarts.

And Sirius Black had been taking care of him ever since. The man was no where near a parental figure- more of a big brother, not that Harry was complaining.

No matter, Harry planned on running far away from Hogwarts after he was done and joining a professional Quidditch team. No bragging intended, but he was a bloody brilliant Seeker and already got a few offers. He had a good magical gift of dueling and spell casting…among other things, but his head was always in the clouds. Plus, he didn’t want to be in the magical field- he wanted to be far away from all the wizards’ jealousy against being powerful.

“Mr. Potter?” Harry blinked and looked up at Professor Riddle. The man looked expectant- waiting for an answer. Brilliant green eyes glanced behind the man’s shoulder, seeing A-D answers to a question. He wondered if that was what the man was asking.

“Er…the answer is C, Professor.” Beside him, Ron tipped down his head and his shoulders shook madly. Hermione glared in his direction, rolling her eyes upward as the rest of the class giggled and laughed.

Harry gave a grin, looking away from the displeased eyes of the professor. Another consequence of being raised by Sirius was his lack of…well…decency. He was quite popular among Hogwarts, known as the Gryffindor Golden Boy. It wasn’t as if he was complaining, he got a lot of girls that way. Not to mention, they all enjoyed his pranks he pulled with Ron and Ginny. Another trait he inherited over the years from Sirius.

“Stay after class, Potter.” Harry rubbed his hair, messing it up. That was all he needed… the man would completely twist his mind. Dark eyes bore into his own for another long moment and Harry shivered. As much as he had been avoiding Riddle, the man always seemed to be watching him, seeing through him.

Hermione gave a shake of her head while Ron winked. Harry gave another smirk, finding it amusing he could cause such an uproar with a dumb comment. He was brought back to the last time he pranked Malfoy in the Great Hall. He got pats on the back for an entire week. His back had started to bruise.

Harry glanced at the bloody ponce across the room. Malfoy’s nose was permanently stuck in the air as he strutted through the school. The blonde was extremely arrogant…it was rumored that he was receiving special lessons with Riddle on dueling. And that was considered an honor among it all…but not in Harry’s eyes.

Sighing, he occupied himself with doodling Quidditch strategies on his parchment. Ron was leaning over, murmuring suggestions in his ear. The red head was the Gryffindor captain- and quite good at it too. They both chuckled darkly as they drew a picture of Malfoy getting struck by lightning and Merlin forbid, his perfect hair flying in every direction. Luckily they finished just as the bell rang. Harry and Ron grinned ear to ear as they folded it into a bird. Cupping the piece of parchment, Harry blew on it, making it fly across the room at Draco.

Just as it was about to hit the blonde’s head, the bird was intercepted by Riddle. The man gracefully passed through the aisle, snatching it in mid flight and continuing on his way to the front of the class. “Potter,” Riddle seemed to hiss pleasantly.

Ron swallowed and slapped him on the back. “Good luck mate.”

Harry stayed in his seat, watching as the Gryffindors and Slytherins all piled out of the room. Green eyes then glanced in Riddle’s direction, watching the man as he slowly erased the material he elegantly scribbled on. “Mr. Potter, up front please.” It was Riddle’s voice, Harry decided. The man had a very…silky and seductive voice. Not that he was anywhere near seduced…Merlin, that would be nasty. The man was old enough to be his grandfather…

Disquieting.

Gathering his materials and bag, he made his way up to the front of the room. Wandlessly, and quite nonchalantly, Riddle caused a single chair to dance its way in front of his desk. “Sit,” Riddle ordered, dusting off his palms and turning toward Harry.

Settling down, Harry sat slouched in his chair, spreading his legs like Sirius always did. His sleeves were already rolled up to his elbows and his tie was unknotted. With his hair in a mess, Harry thought he looked just right for a meeting with the faultless and perfect professor. “So, Professor,” he eyed the man as he sat down gracefully, the same grace a stuck up pureblood would use. The man was like that…so mannered and sophisticated. “What is it this time, detention with Snape? I know you tend to favor giving me detention with that man…” he paused. “Perhaps it because you both enjoy the mindless torture of scrubbing cauldrons until my fingers bleed.”

Riddle placed his elbows on the table and clasped his hands in front of his face, just staring at Harry. Green eyes stared right back.

Tea, all of a sudden, appeared on Riddle’s desk and Harry frowned, well aware of Riddle’s eyes digging a hole through him. “Tea?” Riddle reached out, his fingers tapered and perfect- like the rest of him. It was rather infuriating how the man seemed to carry himself so charmingly and he never seemed to have a fault. It’s what made everyone love him and what made Harry hate him.

“Let me guess,” Riddle grabbed the cup delicately and poured the tea within. “You prefer one cube of sugar and quite a few…mind you, a mass of cream.” Harry stared half lidded at Riddle as the professor poured in the cream. “Also the way I prefer it…amazing how we are so similar.”

“Just because we drink the same prepared tea, doesn’t mean I’m anything like you.” Harry was insulted and didn’t take the cup from the professor. Riddle gave him an unfathomable look and set down the cup across from him. Harry cleared his throat, leaning forward. “Listen Professor, thanks for the tea and all…but can you just get my punishment over with? I don’t think its right for us…to socialize so much.”

Riddle never looked away from him once. Those tapered fingers stirred his own tea and gently laid the spoon on the tray. “Why ever not, Harry?” Harry flinched at his given name. “You and Headmaster Dumbledore ‘socialize’ together quite frequently.”

Harry smirked and leaned back again, bobbing his foot up and down. “That’s different, sir. He was a good friend of my parents and tells me about them all the time…he also doesn’t get into the habit of courting the students-,” he cut himself off. He paused, realizing something. Riddle knew the way he liked his tea and his visits with Dumbledore… “Have you been watching me?”

Riddle raised his eyebrows. “Does it bother you, Harry?” Harry shut his mouth, putting on his best poker face. “Does it bother you that I’ve been watching you- getting to know you?” Harry remained silent, staring into the window behind Riddle’s shoulder. This was harassment, it had to be. “I see myself in you, Harry. Granted its deep…extremely deep down, but I know you’re hiding that side of you. That Slytherin side.” And this was coming from the Slytherin heir. Everyone knew of this- but it didn’t seem to affect their admiration for the man.

“I’m completely Gryffindor, Professor.” Harry said proudly, if not a little bitterly. He remembered how the Hat wanted to place him in Slytherin- he just told Hat he wanted to make his dead parents proud and enter Gryffindor. “Is that what you say to every student, sir?” Harry whispered softly, green eyes drilling into those amused and watchful dark eyes. “Do you honestly think every student wants to be just like you? Mind you, sir, I want to be the exact opposite of you.”

Riddle smirked, taking a sip of his tea, seemingly not affected by his words. “Well, you can congratulate yourself on that, Potter. You’re a slob, a cocky bastard, and you act like an idiot.” Harry grimaced, slouching deeper in his chair. “Luckily for you, I can actually see the real you, the Harry that’s underneath all that grime caused by being raised by the filthy Black-,”

“Sirius is not filth, either am I-,” Riddle continued as if he wasn’t interrupted.

“I know that underneath that cocky smile and rugged behavior of yours- you’re a bloody genius…a powerful wizard.” Hunger shined in Riddle’s eyes and Harry was taken aback. “You’re a gem, Potter, why can’t you just drop your rough façade and embrace your true self?” Riddle placed his cup down rather animatedly and leaned forward. “Is it because of your godfather? His parental skills are lacking, but I’m sure you hold a certain affection for him. Are you afraid he’ll look down on you if you chose to pick up books over brooms?”

“Listen, sir-,”

“Tell me, Potter, what are your future plans after Hogwarts?” Riddle asked curiously. “Black is actually doing something for himself and being an Auror…”

Harry clenched his jaw. “I’m running as far away as I can from Britain and joining a professional Quidditch team as a Seeker.”

Riddle stared at him, blinking, and then started to chuckle. “What a foolish waste of talent.” Harry sneered at the man. “You have potential to be great, Harry. A great and prevailing wizard-,”

“I prefer not to get into wizard politics.” Harry stood up, grabbing his bag. “Are we done, Sir?”

Riddle made a sitting motion with his hands. “No, Potter, sit.” Harry held his tongue and sat down forcibly. “I have a year and a half to change your mind about leaving Britain.” Riddle sat back straight in his chair, eyeing Harry with a lustful expression. “A year…”

“It’s going to be a rather long year, Professor, because I have no intention on giving up on Quidditch and joining your little cult.” Riddle blinked at the word ‘cult’ and then the man’s lips twitched upward.

“You forget I have authority over you, child. I am a professor, thus, I can order your time and take away privileges if you don’t confide in my rules.” Enjoyment was thick in Riddle’s tone. Harry rubbed his scalp again, glaring.

“And you forget I have a good friend in the Headmaster, Professor.” He noticed the man didn’t say anything against the cult. In fact, the man seemed very excited.

Riddle leaned back and entwined his fingers again underneath his chin, dark eyes sparkling. “Rather Slytherin of you, child.” Harry gave a huff, standing up once again. “Sit back down, I’m not finished with you.” Green and dark navy dueled. Harry slowly sat down, keeping eye contact. Riddle looked away first, only to dig through the pile of parchments on his desk. He pulled out a large roll, unrolling it and glancing at it. “I’m sure you’re familiar with the upcoming Dueling Tournament, am I correct? Fourth years and up.”

Harry gave a sharp nod, his leg bobbing again.

“Stop that,” Riddle chided, glaring over the parchment at Harry’s leg. Harry slumped deeper into his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. “The participants were to sign up- the deadline being yesterday. I’ve seen you pass the bored without so much as a glance and I don’t see your name down.”

“Ah,” Harry leaned forward, staring at the man. “That would be because I didn’t put my name down…Sir.” Harry allowed a twisted smile to appear on his lips as Riddle frowned at him.

“You will show up tomorrow. I will allow you to participate, despite the deadline.”

“I apologize, Professor, but I think I gave you the wrong impression.” Harry started, grinning ear to ear as he watched the man’s jaw clench. “You see, I didn’t put my name down because I didn’t want to go, not because I thought you’d give me special treatment in allowing me to attend.” Harry paused. “Not that I am flattered at your special treatment in me…”

“One hundred points from Gryffindor, Potter, and detention tomorrow night with Filch.” Harry gaped. One hundred points? Hermione would have his head. He watched as Riddle stood up, his tall and thin frame seemingly overpowering and reaching the ceiling. “You will never give me that cheek again, do you understand me?” A dangerous glint sparkled in the man’s eyes and Harry had to look away, loosing his cocky behavior.

“Yes, Professor.” His jaw clenched. “Let me guess, you want me to attend the Dueling Tournament?” He started to sweat. “But I can’t, Professor Riddle, I really can’t. I hate dueling…”

“It will be your punishment then,” Riddle sat back down, his face in a neutral expression. “I will award your one hundred points back if you attend and I am willing to switch your detention with me instead of Flinch.”

Harry pushed back against his chair, looking up at the ceiling. His fingers were twitching at the mention of dueling- the one thing he just couldn’t do. He couldn’t. He was a bloody freak when it came to dueling… “No Professor,” green eyes glanced in the man’s direction. Riddle raised an eyebrow. “Really, I can’t duel.”

Dark blue eyes stared at him, incredulous. “You can’t duel, Potter? We’ve gone over the technique in class and even I know you paid attention during that lesson-,”

Harry shook his head heatedly, not being able to confess his…odd gift to his professor. “No, sir, please…I don’t want to duel. I’ll take the deduction of points and the detention with Filch.” He stood up once again, this time Riddle didn’t stop him. He turned and made his way out the room, feeling those vigilant and knowing eyes on him.

“Harry,” he paused in the doorway, his back still facing his professor. “I’ll be expecting you to show up tomorrow.”

Harry shut the door behind him.

--CBS--

“I can’t wait for the Dueling Tournament…”

“Professor Riddle is the best professor at Hogwarts…he’ll do an amazing job hosting the Dueling Tournament.” She giggled. “Hopefully I’ll get a one on one with him…”

Harry gagged, watching as they all piled into the Great Hall. Today, presently, was the Dueling Tournament. Hermione and Ginny had all gone in earlier, giggling and whispering to one another about perhaps seeing Riddle in action. It was pathetic. Ron agreed wholeheartedly with him. The Gryffindor Quidditch team had just got done with practice. Just, meaning, a few minutes ago. The whole team was in the locker room, taking showers and becoming fresh.

Harry on the other hand was standing in his Quidditch uniform; sweat matted his hair, in front of the Great Hall. He didn’t know what lured him here now.

Bright green eyes watched as the doors shut.

He knew deep down that he wanted to do this, to prove Riddle he wasn’t…odd. The conversation he had with the professor was incredibly awkward yesterday; he had felt as if it were a dream today. It irked him how the man thought he could see right through him. Harry sneered. He was no Slytherin…

Rubbing his head, he slammed his eyes shut. But Riddle was right. He had taken the path he was on now because of who his parents and godfather were. He wanted to make them proud of who he was…he wanted to be the Gryffindor Golden Boy- popular- handsome- outgoing- Quidditch star…prankster… it was all because of them. That and because his parents were murdered out of pure jealousy for their magical talent. If he were to embrace this…this freakish gift he had for dueling, he was frightened it would come up with him. Merlin, he wasn’t afraid of his own life but if he ever had a family, he didn’t want to leave his children like his parents did to him.

Biting his bottom lip, he strolled into the Great Hall, opening the doors as quietly as possible. It didn’t matter how quiet he was. Riddle was standing in the middle of the dueling platform, looking as devilishly handsome as usual with his high collared dueling robes. All this robes made it seem as if he were floating when he walked.

The man paused in his speech, his eyes suddenly going to Harry’s hesitating form. “Ah, Mr. Potter…I knew you would join us.”

Harry gave a grin to those glancing his direction. Hermione and Ginny were frowning at him as he slowly came to a stop in the back beside the two. His on and off girlfriend grabbed his arm. “I thought you didn’t sign up for this, Harry.” Harry was aware of the fleeting glances from the students and focused on Ginny’s brown eyes.

“My punishment from Professor Riddle, I guess.” He turned back to Riddle, listening as he explained the placement of the Tournament. Each year would duel each other for the winner and then the winner of each year would duel one another.

Harry tried to avoid the smug looks Riddle sent his direction throughout his speech. He ignored them, trying to think of a way around his freakish curse for dueling. Already, his hands were sweating, thinking of the frightened and sickly awed faces he would get from the students. Not even Ron and Hermione knew of his…talent. Merlin, how could he even call it a ‘talent’? It was a freakish illness he had- almost as bad as the Parseltongue he also hid. But at least he actually heard of people having Parseltongue- like Riddle. He wouldn’t even get into that curse.

No, he had never heard of people having what illness he had.

He could duel effortlessly. Not just knowing spells easily and tossing them back and forth, no, this was different. This wasn’t like Riddle’s and Dumbledore’s dueling, it was far more different. Harry wasn’t very well educated on what spells did what and how to pronounce them- in fact- he was rather dimwitted on knowing spells. One of the few spells he knew was Rictusempra and Alohomora… it was laughable. But he had a freakish gift that made up for his lack of magic theory knowledge… he could just think of what he wanted to happen and it would.

In Transfiguration, he could just think of the object he wanted the goblet to turn and it would turn to that object when he tapped it with his wand. In Charms he could charm objects at will with a single thought…with Defense Against the Dark Arts or Dueling he could just wave his wand and have his victim do a jig…or worse, collapse to the ground with no air in their lungs. He could do anything his mind conjured up- effortlessly. He didn’t even need to think or to annunciate the spell like wizards did for wandless magic.

He was a bloody freak. What everyone struggled with, Harry could do easily. At first he thought it was his wand…but when he concentrated harder, he could do things without his wand. Granted, he could only do small things without his wand and his head always ached- but it proved to him that it wasn’t just his wand.

He was a freak.

A freak who would rather play Quidditch for a living rather than being studied under a microscope or showing others his curse. “Potter and Malfoy,” Harry blinked, snapping to attention. Around them, the students all jeered at the pairing, grinning from ear to ear. Hermione huffed, glaring at the professor.

“He just did that on purpose,” she snapped quietly, pushing a stunned Harry forward. “Go on Harry; show Malfoy you’re not afraid.” Even Hermione was doubtful at his lack of dueling skills; after all, Harry had never showed an interest in studying anymore than he had to. But she didn’t know why he didn’t need to study more.

He was walking numbly to the dueling platform, ignoring Riddle and Malfoy totally. Riddle had done this on purpose. Wasn’t the professor training Malfoy in dueling?

Merlin, he thought he would have more time to think about how he would cover up his freakish gift. He had come here, hoping to be paired with someone other than Malfoy and then loosing- placing him out of the tournament. It would have been quick and painless, showing Riddle he wasn’t afraid to duel but enough for the man to lay off him. But now that he was dueling Malfoy, things were different.

The boy was a bloody git. Just from that smirk the boy was wearing…Harry reconsidered his ‘loss’.

He stopped on the platform, nearing Malfoy and Riddle- who was standing in the middle of the platform. “Your wand, Potter?” Riddle asked softly, causing the Slytherins to laugh when he blinked. Oh, his wand…he might need that to look a little less…

Merlin. He was stupid.

He patted down his crimson robes, knowing he had put that piece of wood somewhere. The laughs grew in intensity and Harry grinned with them, knowing that the Gryffindors were now laughing, teasing him lightly. Riddle looked far from amused as Harry causally pulled the wand from his waistband of his pants. “Ah, here it is,” he grinned, throwing the man a smirk.

“Your so bloody stupid, Potter.” Malfoy sneered, his wand already at the ready. “Your head must be in the clouds permanently.”

“And I suppose all that hair gel makes you more of a bloody ponce, Malfoy.” Gryffindor’s laughed, cheering him on as Harry leaned forward, tapping his wand against the boy’s head. He resisted the temptation of turning the hair red and gold. Perhaps in the duel would suffice.

“Bow to one another,” Riddle snapped. “I find your little charade pathetic.” Malfoy paled at his professor’s disproval and hurriedly bowed. Regrettably, Harry calmly bowed back, minding his own business, when Malfoy’s head slammed into his face.

He gave a cry, holding his nose. The blonde’s face was crimson as Harry pushed the boy away from him. “And I’m the stupid one…” Recovering from the pain in his nose, Harry turned his back on Malfoy, swaggering arrogantly to the end of the platform, and then twirling back around to face the blonde. His body was slightly in the dueling position. One look from Hermione’s exasperated face told Harry he didn’t really look professional.

Malfoy spread his legs apart and crouched down low, ready to strike.

Harry wondered what he would do. “One,” Riddle started, stepping back near the safety zone. “Two,” he supposed he could pretend to be saying a spell. Not every wizard yelled out their curse. If he could just move his lips, in a small mumble, it would be fine enough- wouldn’t it? “Three,” Harry blinked as Malfoy shot a curse at him. But his surprise turned into amusement as the spell missed its target and hit behind him.

He twirled his wand, crinkling his eyes as he faced a fuming Malfoy. The blonde shot another spell and this time, the curse just barely brushed his robes. “Do something, Potter!” Malfoy spat, his face crimson.

“Why would I have to do anything if you can’t even hit a still target?” Harry taunted softly, grinning ear to ear. And here Harry thought Malfoy was getting extra training from Riddle.

Giggles spread through the hall and Malfoy growled, snapping his wrist and shouting a spell Harry did not recognize. He began to sweat when he realized the spell was straight on. Moving his wand, almost unconsciously, he brought up a powerful looking shield by murmuring something akin to ‘Quidditch.’ Merlin, if he wasn’t going into Quidditch in his future, he probably would have looked up certain spells. But studying didn’t come easy to him; he’d rather just do it. And he could…no studying needed.

From the corner of his eye, he could see Riddle watching him intentionally. He tried not to dwell on what the professor was thinking and focused on throwing a spell toward Malfoy. He pictured the spell going through Malfoy’s shield and knocking the boy backwards.

Sure enough, it happened. Rather bitterly, he watched the blonde swoop backward, hitting the floor hard on his back. Harry’s stomach twisted in tight knots and he felt regret about doing this stupid duel. It wasn’t until he was left unaware that Malfoy spat back his own curse. Harry chose not to block it, figuring he should at least look halfway normal. But he wasn’t expecting Malfoy to throw a curse that would slice open his arm.

Robes tearing, the thick cut swelled and started to drip his blood down his palms and fingertips and eventually to the floor. Harry grimaced, green eyes blazing as they looked at an amused and excited Malfoy. Rage clouded Harry’s head and he snapped his own curse back at the boy… hopefully a curse that would make the boy feel as if he were balancing on a thin wire over a long and dangerous drop.

The face Malfoy made was hilarious.

The blonde scrunched up his face, his mouth open in a horror-struck scream. He went on his tiptoes, his arms waving back and forth for balance, and he tried to walk backward. Laughter boomed across the hall, but Harry wasn’t amused… his wand waved once more- muttering bullshit- and made that invisible wire snap.

Draco screamed, his pupils dilated. The blonde dropped his wand and started to fall on his face. He was yelling, looking dismayed and horrified. The front of Malfoy’s robes became wet and Harry blinked, realizing what he was doing was cruel. No, it was pitiless and malicious. All around him, the students were hushed, staring at him with that look he knew…

“Merlin,” Harry whispered, glancing at Riddle. What he saw there made him step back.

The professor had a lustful look on his face, gazing at Harry with…swirling crimson eyes. Harry swallowed, realizing he had just done something- something that would cost him everything.

He just wished…he wished…

He pointed his wand at the ceiling, imagining time frozen. He slammed his tearful eyes shut, hoping beyond hope, that his freakish curse would work. His wand trembled in his hand, becoming warm and then it stopped.

Watery green eyes opened, staring in amazement at what he did. Malfoy was inches from falling on his face, his grey eyes wide with unimaginable horror and his pants damp. Looking into the crowd, he saw most the students watching Malfoy with a bemused expression while some had frightened and amused faces. Hermione, among only a selected few students, were watching Harry with an unrecognizable expression. It looked like a cross between uncertainty and disappointment.

Harry couldn’t have this.

Quickly, with his wand, he moved Malfoy into a starting position once again, drying his pants. He moved Hermione at the other end of the platform, to make it look as if Hermione and Malfoy were about to duel. Slowly stepping off the platform, he took a deep breath, wondering if this would work. He had never done an oblivate, but what if he just imagined the students forgetting about him entering the Tournament and the incident... and in replace, Hermione and Malfoy were the first contenders?

He swirled his wand, hoping it would work. All the while, his stomach was ready to vomit at what he was doing. He vowed never to use this freakish gift again. Ever.

Pointing his wand high above him, he erased the incident from their minds, including Professor Riddle. He wouldn’t know if he was successful until time unfroze again, but it was worth a shot.

Harry blended in with the crowd, anxious to see how it worked out. If this worked, he promised his vow would stay true and he wouldn’t do this ever again…but if it didn’t work, he would use the freakish gift once more to run the hell out of the wizarding world. What would the wizards and witches think of him? There would be killing attempts, jealousy, courting, fake friendship, more enemies… he couldn’t do it.

He was so uptight about if his plan would work, that he didn’t notice crimson eyes following each step of his. Riddle was still frozen in place, but his mind was active, watchful….

Harry bit his lip, hiding in the shadows and unfroze time. The Hall seemed to shake and a bright light flashed- causing Harry to slam his eyes shut. When he opened them, he witnessed Hermione and Malfoy dueling and the students cheering their respected housemate on.

Stomach still tight, Harry opened the door a sliver, and snuck out.

Crimson eyes following.