A/N September 1st through 10th various countries declare war on Germany or neutrality following the invasion of Poland. Many European nations and the USA declare neutrality. France, Britain, Australia, New Zealand, Canada and Nepal declare war.

The end of summer had come, and Tom found himself looking forward to returning to Hogwarts.

Not that he had reason to complain about his stay at Hogsmead – no other attacks had followed and while everyone was keeping an eye out for him, no one had done so in a manner that made him feel like a small child. He had played two long distance chess games with John Shephard and even one with Minerva McGonagall, Alastor had come by regularly and his father had kept his promise of allowing him more freedom if he stuck to the rules. Uncle Aberforth and Mr Ollivander had bought him a whole stack of books he’d wanted as a reward for his work that summer.

Currently, he and his father were eating breakfast together. The Hogwarts Express was arriving in the afternoon, and his father had to be ready to receive the students. As Professor Slughorn was caught up in a delicate potion for the infirmary, Professor Kettleburn would have the job of picking up the first years, and getting them across the lake. Worried whispers among staff members made Tom grin – everyone knew Professor Kettleburn always got into trouble somehow. In fact, according to John Shephard, in the five years he’d attended Hogwarts Professor Kettleburn had been off probation about two months total. The older students had even started taking bets on how long it would take for Professor Kettleburn to get back on probation. His father was clearly labouring under the assumption that the first years would all arrive alive and well, but Headmaster Dippet seemed less certain.

Twinkling blue eyes drew Tom from his musings, and he looked up at his father, soon to be his Professor again.

“Now that you have inhaled your food…” his father smiled at him.

Tom fought off a blush. It was true, he was eating a lot these days. It seemed he was always hungry.

“No need to be embarrassed, child. You need your food. You are a growing boy.”

That was certainly true. Over summer, he had shot up like a weed, standing almost a full head higher than when he first came to Hogwarts. Despite the large amounts of food he packed away every day, he remained thin and gangly. Undoubtedly the physical exercise in the form of deliveries and lifting crates of butterbeer had something to do with that as well. When Professor Dumbledore had taken him to get his robes for this year, the talking measuring tape had complained that he was at that ‘all arms and legs’ phase and how difficult it was to create decent robes.

“Have you decided what after-school activities you wish to pursue this year?” Professor Dumbledore asked with feigned disinterest. He hoped Tom would be a little more sociable this year – and less mischief would be a welcome change, as well.

“The chess club,” Tom shrugged, “Minerva McGonagall mentioned that they’d tried to get a drama club again, but Professor Dippet refused permission for some reason.”

Albus laughed. “Professor Dippet is still remembering the last time we had such a thing, Tommy. Suffices to say it went horribly wrong and Professor Kettleburn went back on probation again.”

“If Professor Kettleburn is on probation so often, then why is he still teaching?” Tom took another bite of bacon.

“Well, for one, Hogwarts has a tradition of keeping on our Professors. It is considered a sign of failure on the part of the school to have to let a Professor go. For another, there are preciously few people who desire a job like this and are capable. Professor Kettleburn may have some er….difficulties, but he is the only one who can handle any Magical creature. I know he has been looking for an apprentice among the student body for some time now, someone who shares his love for all creatures great and small, but so far has been unsuccessful. Whereas all other Professors have at least one protégé of a sort.”

“Like you and Minerva?” Tom asked.

“In a manner of speaking. If she continues to work this hard, I am convinced she will easily obtain a Mastery in Transfiguration. I did not know you were interested in theatre, Tom.”

“It sounded like fun,” Tom frowned, “I think Minerva is still planning something, though. I think she is writing to a Professor Beery at Wizard Academy of Dramatic Arts about a summer program. I don’t think she easily accepts no for an answer when she really wants something.”

He hesitated. He would not need to ask permission for any summer courses – next summer was far away and it was very unlikely even a determined witch like Minerva McGonagall would be able to arrange something of that scale. What would follow now, however, would include a request, Albus felt certain, and requests were not something Tom comfortably made.

“That really small student, you know, the one in sixth…no, seventh year now? Flitwick?”

“Filius Flitwick, ah, yes. Already halfway down the work for his Charms Mastery, even before the NEWTs.”

“Yes, that one. He is planning, he says, to start up a Dueling Club. Duel competition, a little Defence against the Dark Arts on the side.”

“That sounds very interesting. I do believe the young man plans to pursue a Defence Mastery as well – it would be a logical choice to start such a club, to get enough practice while still in school.”

“It is…it is open to third years and above,” Tom muttered, “I am…if I…”

Dumbledore coughed. “Well,” he said, putting down his napkin, “I was saving this for after breakfast, but seeing it has become a matter of some urgency…”

He pulled a parchment from his robes. “You have been placed in third year, Tommy. Congratulations, son. I am so very proud of you.”

Tom took the parchment and studied it. “I passed them all, even transfiguration! I thought I would be…”

“Behind on that because you missed so many lessons?” his father finished for him, “you kept up with the homework. This is the first time in two hundred years that we have allowed a student to move up to another year altogether, Tom. Well done indeed.”

“Does…May I join the Dueling Club, then?” Tom blurted out, his eyes still on the paper.

“Certainly. And Tom…” he caught his sons hand in his own, “this year, too, my office is always, always open to you.”

Tom looked away. “You have a war to prepare.”

“Yes,” Dumbledore agreed, “I do. And I cannot promise I will not have to leave again at some point this year. I shall try my best to avoid being gone for more than a few days; however, I cannot promise it may not occur. This time, though, I shall make certain to tell you, and to make arrangements for you to contact me. I foresee at this moment I shall be at Hogwarts most of the year, and when I am there, I am never, never too busy for my own son.”

sssssssss

Aberforth had offered to take Tom to Hogsmeade station so he could ride the carriages to Hogwarts with his classmates and arrive as a regular student instead of awaiting them in the Great Hall, for which Tom was extremely grateful.

He quickly met up with Alastor, who thumped him on the back and congratulated him when Tom told him he would be joining the Third Years.

“Look,” Alastor said as he pointed at where Professor Kettleburn was collecting the new First Years. All of them seemed to hover between nervousness and excitement, though a few of the bolder ones looked around with interest at the older students. Probably future Gryffindors, Tom mentally noted.

“Aren’t they tiny?” his friend asked a little pompously.

Tom did not suppose either Alastor or himself had been that much bigger upon entering Hogwarts, but his friend was apparently feeling important as a Third Year. John Shephard gave them a nod as he walked passed, and Minerva McGonagall stopped briefly, accompanied by some rather giggly girls, to ask for that rematch he had promised her.

The carriages quickly brought them to the school, and Tom hoped the Sorting wouldn’t take too long. He was eager for the feast. Headmaster Dippet gave him a slightly disapproving glance, as he always did after the cursed knife incident, but otherwise nothing remarkable happened until his father entered with the new students, all of which had made it safely across the lake. Professor Kettleburn took his seat, grinning at Professor Slughorn and receiving the exact same disapproving glance from the Headmaster as Tom always did.

The Sorting Hat seemed to have sensed Toms hopes for a quick wrap-up and early dinner, because most students were Sorted quickly and without fuss. Food appeared and Tom filled his plate with a slightly more moderate amount of food than he would have were he still in Hogsmeade with his father and uncle, and started to eat at a sedate pace.

“Hey Riddle!” a Prefect sitting near him called, “Heard you passed the tests. Third year now, right?”

“Yes,” Tom simply confirmed.

“Well done,” the older boy stated, “Professor Slughorn said you need to pick your electives.”

Tom nodded. “I will take them all.”

“All?” the other boy looked doubtful, and around them people stopped eating to listen, “I don’t think that is even possible. Besides, what do you want with Divination?”

“To be able to look into the future could be a very powerful thing,” Tom replied carefully.

“Well, yes, if it were actually possible to do so,” the Prefect sounded a little surprised, “but any fool can understand the future cannot be found in tealeaves, or the insides of animals, or the breadcrumbs you accidentally drop on your plate. Even real prophecies are few and far between, and most are incredibly vague. If there were a good solid way of predicting the future, then you would have a point, although I doubt it would be much good – by knowing the future you might accidentally change it. Or it could end up self-fulfilling prophecy.”

This spun an excited debate at their table about the future, the possibility of travelling back in time, time paradoxes and parallel universes that eventually drew the attention of the Ravenclaw table next to them. Tom mingled only a little in the conversation that by the end of the feast had even drawn the Arithmancy Professor from the Head Table; giving his opinion guardedly only when asked directly, but he did decide that their Prefect probably was correct – reading tealeaves did seem an awful waste of time.

Since it was fairly early when the first students and staff started to leave, he dropped by his father’s office after dinner, to find his Head of House there as well. The Professors looked surprised, but pleased to see him and immediately directed him to a chair.

“I just wanted to ask about Divination,” Tom said, uncomfortably, “I wanted to take all electives, but after the discussion tonight…I think I might find better things to do than reading tealeaves.”

His father nodded. “There are very few real Seers, and they consider it both a blessing and a curse. The things you learn in Divination are simply parlour tricks – useful if you ever accidentally perform magic in front of a Muggle, but they do not really pertain to predicting the future with any degree of accuracy. Common sense and information will get you much further in estimating which events are likely to occur…that is what we are using now in our preparations – until a very reliable Seer comes along, and even after that event, we trust in those.”

Slughorn snorted. “Its all rubbish, Tom. Sure, there have been some Seers, but the real ones’d be the first to admit the future is far from predictable, and they only see some possibilities – and not even the whole picture, most of the time. Nay, lad, I’d say you’ll find Arithmancy or Ancient Runes a far better challenge.”

“What do you want to do, Tommy?” his father asked gently.

Tom looked at his hands. “I think I want to take Arithmancy. I already studied some Runes last year – I think I will study it on my own and see if I can do the OWL independently. I want to take Care of Magical Creatures too.”

“And you have your chess club, and the duelling club,” his father added, “Not to mention that this year will be harder on you than last year was, having jumped a class. I think it only wise if you free up some time in your schedule. Focus on your talents and the classes that interest you.”

Dumbledore was pleased, very pleased. Tom had come to him for advice, which was very promising. He also wanted to take Care of Magical Creatures; besides nerves of steel, students also had to have a fondness for all creatures great and small, or they could never keep up in that class. Tom definitely was fond of Merope – perhaps he could extend that fondness to other creatures, and eventually humans, as well. He had already made great strides in that area, compared to the hostile, distant boy that entered Hogwarts a year ago.

The Floo flared at that precise moment. The strong, but tense voice of Ignatius Prewett came through the flames.

“ALBUS! Find Horace and come over! Poland has been invaded! Wizards have been spotted in the German army! War has started!”