Disclaimer – I do not own Harry Potter.

Important A/N! – I'M OVER MY WRITER'S BLOCK! :D Admittedly, the first little bit if still a little blocky but after that we get going and after that I think you can tell that I have got over my writer's block.

Right, I have checked this as much as I can, but there are nearly 10500 words here so please forgive the mistakes you do find – checking this was a pain :(

Thank you to everyone who reviewed :) However, one 'Guest' who said that Voldmort was a sociopath – if you have come back for this chapter I refer you to this 'J.K. Rowling has described Voldemort as the most evil dark wizard for hundreds and hundreds of years[33], a self-hating bully[34], a raging psychopath devoid of empathy[35], a power-hungry racist[36], someone who prefers for his henchmen to do his dirty work for him[37], and that if psychologists were to get Voldemort in a room, pin him down, and take his wand away, he would be classified as a psychopath[38].' About bullet point 30/31 on - harry potter. wi kia . c o m. / wi ki/ Tom_Riddle#Behind_the_scenes - That's what I am going on for this fic :)

Right, in this chapter we get to see more Riddle and although he is a psychopath, he is also only half a soul and more than a little mad :) So, be prepared for weirdness :P

Enjoy!

For Victory

Harry staggered through the decrepit tunnels raggedly, his breathing hitching and tightening with the onslaught of grief, anger and self-pity.

Run, Harry and tell them dear little Ginny was dead when you found her. I'll be gone before you return and I shall come to collect you during the summer. Run, Harry, run and cry.

Harry tripped on the small bones and stones that littered the tunnel, collapsing onto the giant snake skin, vision watery and tearful. The grey surroundings wobbled as his tears fell. Oh, and before you go, remember at all times; never look Dumbledore in the eye. Your eyes never lie, Harry.

Harry felt sick with grief and horror.

Oh God!...Christ…Merlin! Mum! Dad! What have I done?! Harry choked, the grey walls reminding him of Ginny's grey skin.

He wanted to be sick, he could feel his stomach churning and clenching like it was in someone's clenching fist. He'd killed Ginny!

His head fell, as though the support holding it up had left, and he sobbed, his hands cupping his face and hiding the shameful truth of his selfish, full of self-pity tears from the world. His limbs felt bandy and weak, like numb bony jelly folded under his body weight. What had he done?

Harry hooked his glasses of with his fingers, intending to throw them to the ground, but they clung to the tips of his fingers, sliding slowly and falling harmlessly to the gravelly floor. Harry wanted to howl at the debasement of what he had done but wouldn't allow himself to do so. It was his shame and his burden…his fault.

Harry's face felt hot and wet, sticky and swollen. Oh God! Harry wiped under his eyes angrily, the self-pity was the worst aspect. How dare he pity himself after all the damage he had done?!

He pushed himself up on buckling legs and moved forwards – to sit there and pity himself – it was criminal that he had the cheek to pity himself when he had killed his ex-best friend's sister! You've made this choice, Potter, deal with it! Harry finally managed to wade through the sea of animal bones until he reached the giant pipe. He eyed the giant skid mark of scattered bones where he had been flung from the gritty and dirty pipe on his way down. He imagined he would be terribly bruised by tomorrow.

Harry looked up the black pipe and couldn't figure out how to get back up the damn thing but then he remembered the spell that Riddle had whispered in his ear before he left the boy behind in the chamber.

He managed to say it, through hiccups and a throat thick with tears. He soon found out what it did when all the bones he had been standing on stuck to the soles of his shoes. He managed to sit on the edge of the pipe and pry the bones of his shoes before completely climbing into the metal tube.

His feet stuck to the pipe, as did his hands and he slowly climbed up and up the dirty metal. He could feel his weak limbs wanting to collapse as he climbed, sweat dripping off his forehead and mixing with tears as he pulled himself up bit by bit.

When he got up to the top, huffing and puffins as he hooked his legs up onto flat stable ground, he lay on floor breathing heavily and not moving his hollow feeling limbs. Thank god Myrtle wasn't there! Harry finally got up and managed to stagger through the corridors mindlessly and lost, barely seeing or feeling anything, until he met Dumbledore who looked at him with pity and disappointment…like he already knew what had happened. Do not look in his eyes. Harry focused on the crooked nose… the beard…let Dumbledore think it was shame that caused his avoidance of eye contact.

"She's dead." Harry croaked voice full of tears. "God, she's dead."

"Oh, Harry." Dumbledore whispered, full of sorrow.

Harry felt his legs buckling and he slid to the floor, his knees ricocheting with the force he fell with.

Oh God! He had killed someone – who would ever forgive him?

What had he done?!

~For Victory~

Harry had been at the Dursley's for two weeks, two long torturous weeks in which he had been relocked in his room and his food posted through the cat flap at irregular intervals. Guilt often swept over him in waves but started to subside as fear started to creep up on him as he waited in anticipation for Riddle's appearance. Harry could barely stomach any of the meals, his eyes constantly darting to the door at any sound. Riddle said he would come, but when?! Harry was convinced it was a lie – Riddle didn't know where Harry lived – how could he come? He should have thought about the issue when in the chamber with the boy, but on the other hand Harry was almost grateful that Riddle couldn't find him. None the less, the tension never left his shoulders; the fear still had a grip hold on his spine causing him to sit erect and ready to bolt at anything that disturbed the silence.

It was on the second Thursday after Harry had finished his second year at Hogwarts that there was a polite knock at the front door. Harry, who had been lying down and gazing blankly at the ceiling, froze and become tense, slowly pushing himself into a sitting position and waiting with baited breath for someone to answer it.

He felt as though his throat had closed and had stuck together as he perched on the end of his bed, hands clenching around his own knees as he could hear Petunia's footfalls on the carpet approaching the door.

It'll just one of the neighbours, of course it will, or one of Dudley's friends…Piers or someone. It cannot be him, it cannot be.

"Oh, hello, can I help you?" Harry heard Petunia ask sharply, muffled by the walls and closed door.

There was a pause, an infinite pause where Harry's couldn't breathe, even though he needed to and then…

"Hello Madam, may I come in? The matters I wish to discuss are of a confidential nature." A posh, seductive voice asked. Harry's stomach dropped and his eyes widened. Oh God! He swallowed convulsively and tried to calm his suddenly racing heart.

"Oh, of course, please…" Petunia's voice filtered through the ceiling, pleased, flattered and above all demur.

Harry heard a polite chuckle and the front door close, as Petunia asked if this mysterious man would like her to take his jacket.

"Oh no, no! Thank you." The voice responded, and then there was a gasp of fear from Petunia. "Now, the boy?" The voice asked coldly. Harry, although he was fairly sure it was Riddle, grabbed one of his school books, one with hard sharp corners.

He could hear Petunia's shaky breathing as she gasped "U-upstairs!"

"Go on then, I shall follow."

The stairs creaked under two sets of feet, the third step groaning angrily at Petunia's weight whilst not making a sound under Riddle's.

Closer and closer they came and Harry got off his bed, fortunately the squeaky mattress made very little sound as he approached the door with his book held over his head, ready to strike the wizard who was coming in. Just in case it isn't Riddle.

"My lord, muggle, why so many locks?!" The man sounded both angry and amused by what he was seeing. "What are you keeping in there? Surely, not just the boy?!"

Petunia didn't answer but the sound of keys missing their padlocks suggested her hands were trembling and missing the keyholes.

Each one fell away, dropping to the carpeted floor with heavy muffled thuds.

"Move out of the way, muggle." The voice was sharp, irritated…although it was more like thoroughly pissed off. The door handle rattled as the wizard opened it and Harry reached under his pillow, wrapping his hand around his wand. His grip shifted on the book as well – two weapons were better than one, right?!

The door swung open and Harry struggled to see the features of the shadowy figure but the gait and amused hum gave Riddle away as he stepped into the bright room.

"Now, now, Harry. Tut tut." Riddle gave him that empty, blinding smile, "I thought you'd be pleased to see me?" He strode into the room, looking about it with a displeased face, a veneer of disgust thinly disguised as he turned to the lingering Petunia "Go and sit at the dining room table. I will be having a word with you, your husband and your offspring when they return from whatever… delights they are pursuing today. " She nodded shakily and darted away, carefully manoeuvring around the dropped locks and disappearing down the stairs.

Riddle looked around the room, "Lovely place…cosy." He commented, bouncing on the balls of his feet, his hands tucked into his trouser pockets. "Sorry it took me so long to collect you. Harry, I had other priorities I'm afraid."

Harry gave him a look that clearly showed how unimpressed he was about that, before he turned away, still unnerved by those eyes.

Riddle seemed to get bored with the pretence of civility as he took the books scattered on the desk and piled them up.

"Come on, Harry. Pack up!" Riddle leant down to be eye level with Harry and smiled. "Be quick about it – I have alternate accommodation already planned for us."

He stood up and headed towards the door, bending to the ground and picking up the biggest and most garish padlock. He looked at it considering, tossing it up in the air and catching it again with a distracted sound. "Meet me downstairs when you are finished." He muttered softly and he disappeared down the stairs, scaring Petunia as he entered the kitchen – her yelp being heard by Harry upstairs.

Oddly, and with a little bit of vindictiveness Harry found himself smiling at the sound as he opened his trunk and dropped his books in it casually – without care of where they dropped, what they crushed and if the fall damaged them at all.

Harry didn't bother to fold any of his clothes, just stuffed them in carelessly, clearing the room of his belongings. After emptying the cavity under the loose floorboard and making sure the room was clear Harry shut and looked his case. Hedwig glared at him from her cage as he took her cage in his left hand and dragged his trunk down the stairs – rather enjoying the loud thump thump as the trunk thumped down each carpeted step. He wheeled the trunk into the kitchen, and saw Riddle looking out into the garden, leaning with spread hands against the kitchen work surface.

"You packed awfully fast Harry….I bet your clothes will be wrinkled when you get them out – and the damage to your books?" Riddle shook his head, a few loose strands of hair swinging as he did so. "I hope they aren't too damaged, Harry. I expect you to be well acquainted with them sooner or later."

Riddle turned away from the garden and smiled at Harry. "The garden hasn't flourished now that you no longer tend to it. Such a shame." Riddle watched with cold eyes as Harry set Hedwig on the kitchen counter. Harry heard a choked sound and he turned to see Petunia glaring at the bird in distaste and disgust on her clean counter.

She was sitting at the dining room table, a saucer on the lacy table cloth abandoned and a cup of tea cradled in her bony hands.

Riddle smiled in indulgence before picking up a teacup and taking a sip. "Petunia has made tea. Isn't she a dear? Muggles have their uses after all, Harry, who knew?"

Harry half hugged himself with his right arm, cupping his left in a tight grip. He looked down to avoid Riddle's gaze and perched on the edge of his trunk, which was stood up on its wheels. The trunks wheels were wedged in the thick carpet so the trunk didn't move as Harry settled uneasily on it. Riddle only tapped his fingers on the work surface with irritation but the fingers paused as the sound of a car pulling up on the drive was heard through the house. "Ah, Mrs Dursley, it seems your family have returned – and ever so promptly too." Riddle hummed in jovial cruelty.

There was the sound of the lock being turned, the latch clicking loudly in the tense silence of the house.

When Dudley ran into the kitchen, excited and red in the face from his short run, he stopped short at the site of the tall and handsome Riddle leaning casually against Petunia's clean and shiny kitchen sink. The spread hands that gripped the work surface behind him clenched at the state Dudley was in before Riddle smiled disarmingly and saying with false warmness. "You must be Dudley."

Dudley looked at him blankly, a distinct lack of interest in his face and a look off ugly jealously on his slack, flabby features.

Riddle for once looked a little wrong footed at the boy's stoicism before he smiled easily again "Please," He gestured with his hand towards Petunia, "Join your mother at the table."

Dudley glared at Riddle and Harry could instantly see the beginnings of a tantrum in the set of Dudley's chin and the way his arms went to cross themselves, and the way his pudgy hands coiled into fists.

"Please, Dudley, come sit with me." Petunia asked, wetly and with a hint of tremor in her sharp voice. Dudley looked on the verge of doing what he always did – ignore her, but he seemed to register her wet, shiny eyes and the slight shake in her hands and the fact her tea, which was sitting in her lap, was untouched. He still scowled before stomping over and pulling out a chair, throwing himself on to it with little regards for the strain he must have been putting on it.

Vernon came in only seconds afterwards, carrying a few bags of surplus things that Dudley would never use. When he saw Riddle his reaction was one that was very different to his son's. He took in the expensive pressed suit that Riddle was wearing, the smile and the styled hair….and proceeded to smile at him, a smile that was greasier than Riddle's had ever been, partially fake (due to jealousy) and partially real (due to what Vernon thought he could get out of Riddle). Harry privately thought that although Riddle's was so obviously fake at times, he most definitely pulled the smile off with more style and was certainly more believable. "Oh, hello!" Vernon held out a large sweaty hand towards Riddle, who deftly ignored it, moving past the large man and waving his hand in a 'come hither' motion cheerily as he did so.

"Please, Mr Dursley." Riddle gestured to a chair next to the one at the head of the table, in which he sat himself.

Vernon looked flabbergasted, a ring of colour swelling in his neck, a red-purple puce, a shade almost vulgar in its unpleasantness. The man glared at Harry, who shifted on his perch on awkwardly, and steadfastly avoided Vernon's beady black eyes as they narrowed in suspicion on him.

"Mr Dursley?" Riddle called out, imperious and tone bordering on impatient, his fingers tapping out a muffled beat as they struck the covered table. Vernon set down the bags on the floor, leaning them against the wall.

Vernon glared at Harry, one last long hard look that promised retribution before he waddled over to his pre-chosen chair, taking of his coat and folding it over the back of it and pulling out the spindly wooden chair to sit on it.

When Vernon had settled himself in his chair he placed his hands on the table and clasping them together in a business like pose. From the angle Harry was sitting at he caught Riddle shoot Vernon with a bland smile.

Riddle pulled out Ginny's wand, lightly placing it on the table cloth and smiling indulgently "Just to set the standard." Dudley and Vernon reared back, as though Riddle had thrown at snake on the table, or as if they had been struck violently

"Now, I have been here for only twenty minutes at best and I've bore witness to the cruel way you treat Harry." Riddle started, but Vernon recovered quickly enough to snarl out.

"The little freak deserves it!" He hissed, spittle flying from wet lips as he glared at Riddle. "Freaks like you deserve it too!"

Riddle turned to him slowly, with anger burning in his eyes, expressed in the clenching of his jaw before he said coldly. "It is not acceptable, Dursley." He turned away from Vernon, his fingers doing that odd tapping beat again, he paused for a moment to collect his thoughts. "Though, you pride yourselves on being too much of a normal family to beat the little freak, so I suppose that is your saving grace amongst all the terrible neglect." It was said nonchalantly, as though Riddle hadn't just slighted the Dursley's honour and integrity.

"How dare you?!" Vernon seethed, and even Petunia had a look of such disgust on her horse like face as she clutched her throat in horror. "We would never beat a child – even that little freak! No how much that little brat deserved it! We would never lower ourselves to physically beating him! We aren't that sort of people!"

Petunia nodded sharply, anger pointed and fierce in her face. Dudley still had the fearful look on his face, slightly mourning looking as his parents reacted furiously to the allegation that they could have even thought about beating a child – freak or not.

Riddle focused on their angry faces, looking a little tickled by their anger.

Seizing opportunity at Riddle being distracted, Dudley's pudgy fingers snatched the wand that was resting on the table and ran towards the door, which closed on its own and stopped the fat boy leaving.

Riddle hadn't moved from where he was sitting or looking, the blank stare and bland smile fixed at the china cabinet opposite him.

Dudley rattled the door in panic, but it wouldn't budge, as though it wasn't only shut but glued as well.

Riddle spun out of his chair with elegant ease and slowly approached Dudley with impressive swagger. Although Dudley was tall for his age, Riddle had presence as well and when that was couple by those extra inches of height, it made Riddle tower over the poor muggle.

Dudley, who was a shade of grey that Harry had never seen before, rather stupidly Harry thought, pointed the wand at Riddle's midriff with a trembling hand.

"Don't be a silly boy, give me my wand and we'll forget all about it." Riddle said soft and coaxingly, holding out his right hand. Harry, immediately tensed, noticing that Riddle had his right hand held out meaning his dominant left hand was free to do damage.

Petunia was almost sobbing "Please Diddykins! Do as he says and nothing bad shall happen. Please, darling!" Dudley, although shaking like a leaf, shook his head fiercely, his several chins wobbling along as he did so.

Riddle let out and all suffering sigh, rolling his eyes dramatically as his left hand rose and backhanded Dudley across the face.

Petunia shrieked with fear and Vernon rose from his seat, blood red in the face and filled with anger. However, the backhand had had the desired effect and the hand in which Dudley had held the wand slackened allowing the wand to swing from his fingers towards the floor.

Riddle caught it lightly, his two fingers holding the wand like someone holding something up dirty – like a used sock. None the less, he grit his teeth and gripped the wand tightly and pointed it at Dudley. "Sit back down – like a good boy." He hissed.

Dudley scattered back to his seat and Riddle slipped the wand into his trouser pocket before heading into the kitchen. There was the unmistakeable sound of a knife being drawn causing all of them to tense.

Riddle strolled back out from the kitchen, a knife in each hand swinging with swishing sounds as he approached Dudley with a fascinated, hooked look in his eyes.

Dudley made a squealing sound in his throat as he pressed himself back against his chair but he didn't get out of it, nor try to run away.

"Both arms out on the table, now." Riddle commanded, knifes in each hand gleaming with the sunlight pouring on them. "Oh, don't look so afraid, I'm not going to do anything permanent. Certainly no worse than anything you've experienced before."

Dudley looked at his parents for support, at Petunia shaking her head at Riddle, muttered pleads and begging noises for him not to hurt her precious son. Vernon had stilled completely, holding his breath as he watched. He seemed unable to do anything in his deliberating, fearful shock.

With shaking hands, Dudley slowly stretched his arms out and placed his two arms on the table, his baggy sleeves billowing and spreading out like dark pools of blood on the snowy white lace table cloth.

Riddle smiled in that charming way, full of praise for the dumb dog before he brought the two knifes down with hurtling force and when the struck the wood, they vibrated audibly with the force.

Harry peered through the gap in his fingers and almost gasped in relief when he saw that Riddle had pinned Dudley's shirt sleeves to the table to restrict the movements of his arms.

Petunia had fainted and was sprawled in an undignified lump across the table.

Vernon's rising colour had soon come back down to a pasty white colour after the display and he stared in a type of shock at the embedded knifes whilst Riddle straightened out his suit and smoothed down creases in the legs before settling himself back in his chair. "Now, where were we before I was so rudely interrupted?" He looked over to Harry with only clam inquisitiveness on his face, as though he had no comprehension of the magnitude of what he had just done. "Harry? Do you remember?"

Harry felt oddly parched and he managed a soft "Uh-um, ahhh-"

"Oh, yes! I remember." Riddle interrupted, holding up a finger and turning back to the silent Dursley family. "You haven't beaten the little freak! That was it! However, that subject is rather dull, don't you think? We need to discuss your plans for when Harry and I leave."

Harry stilled, his legs locking in fear and tenseness as he waited for Riddle's verdict. He hadn't expected Riddle to turn to him, false questioning look on his face. "Tell me Harry, what are the arrangements regarding you and any wizard confidants?"

Harry blinked in incomprehension, shaking his head cautiously, "There are none. Ron and Hermione don't write…not after what happened with Ginny…and….there is no one else." He felt the heat surge under his cheeks in embarrassment. It got worse as Dudley seemingly forgot his lesson and snorted in contempt and horrid amusement.

Riddle turned back to Dudley, eyebrow raised in silent question, Dudley balked at the boy's face, leaning back slightly with a noise of fear as Riddle traced his index finger over the knifes handle.

"That's better, isn't it Muggle?" Riddle asked, gently with glittering dead eyes. His eyes flicked to Petunia and Vernon, "It turns out there are no measures that need to be taken. If someone asks, Harry is still here happy as Larry as I believe they say." Riddle stood up and walked behind his chair, pushing it in and settling his hands on the back chair. "You're not to mention this visit – or me to anyone. I will be most displeased if my presence is mentioned. Needless to say, I shall take this displeasure out on your son if I have to." Riddle leaned over the chair. "Am I clear?" He asked.

All two of the muggles (Petunia still out cold), wide bug eyed nodded and watched Riddle fearfully, even as the boy turned away murmuring "Come along, Harry."

Harry jumped up and picked up Hedwig's cage, snatching the handle of his trunk and following Riddle as quickly as he could, not looking back at his supposed and unwanted family.

As he went through the front door, Riddle disappeared, Harry looked about, not seeing where the boy went until an arm wrapped loosely around his throat from behind. "I don't suppose you've ever had the pleasure of experiencing apparation, have you Harry?" Was the whisper in his ear before he was suddenly squeezed through a tight tube.

~For Victory~

Harry staggered as air rushed back into his lungs and his feet landed on uneven grass. Riddle let go of him as Harry took great gulps of air and swallowed several times to keep his churning stomach from revolting. There wasn't anything in there to throw up anyway.

When Harry finally felt he wasn't going to throw up anymore, Harry looked up at the house the had apparated in front of.

Harry gaped.

It was horrid, decrepit and surely they couldn't live in that place?!

A flutter of wings drew Harry's attention and he saw Riddle fling Hedwig from her cage.

"No! Hedwig! What are you doing?!" Harry yelled, "Riddle?!" Harry ran towards the boy just as Hedwig fluttered away, curses raining after her until Harry grabbed Riddle's wand arm and tried to pull it away from his precious bird.

"Uh-uh Harry!" Riddle goaded, prying Harry's hand of his forearm and twisting around to push Harry towards the house. With a flick on his wand the front door shuddered open.

"In! Harry! Move it!" Riddle hissed with insistent hands pushing at Harry's back so he staggered through the decrepit doorway. It was covered in green moss and oddly bowed as though the wood was going to collapse.

His heavy falling feet made dull sounds on the floor making Harry think that the wood was not only damp but sodden.

The smell in the air made Harry almost choke on his tongue.

"Lovely, isn't it?" Riddle commented, drolly but with such an edge of cruelty that Harry didn't think anyone else could manage it. Riddle dragged in Harry's trunk in with Hedwig's empty cage balancing on top. He dropped them to the floor with an almighty crash.

Riddle slammed the door shut with his foot in a violent kick, the door smashed into the door frame with a wet heavy thud.

Riddle's hand was heavy as it settled on the back of Harry's neck, he steered Harry towards a green, mould covered window.

Taking a corner of Harry's exceedingly large shirt between Riddle's thumb and forefinger, he scraped away the mould from the window in a circular motion. Once the thin window pane was clear enough, though smears of green were still on it, Riddle dropped the corner of the shirt as though it had burned him. His hand smoothed over the back of the Harry's head and he gently but firmly pushed Harry closer and closer to the window until Harry's nose was pressed almost flat against the gritty feeling glass.

"See that house on the hill, Harry?" Riddle asked, his fingers tightening in his excitement, the bony tips hurting Harry's scalp.

Harry made a humming noise in agreement – unable to nod and unwilling to gather the remnants of mould on his nose or on his mouth.

He felt Riddle move closer, the teen's lips brushing the shell of Harry's ear. "That's where Voldemort lives, Harry."

Harry's hands instantly went out to the damp wall, attempting to push away from the window least he be seen by someone.

"Ah-ah! Harry! Calm yourself – we shall be perfectly safe here." Riddle whispered, no assurance in his words at all. "Trust me. The arrogant beast never looks beneath its own belly for his enemies." His hand ran down Harry's neck and his fingers brushed over Harry's fluttering pulse. Riddle turned his face into Harry's head, his nose being buried in his hair "Know this fear, Harry Potter." Harry looked out the corner of his eye, meeting the cold pools of emotionless brown. "You'll have to live with this for a long time, Harry. Get used to the feel of it, understand it and overcome it."

With that Riddle smiled and let go of his hold on Harry, "We'll be staying here for a few weeks." He walked back to the door and fiddled with the rusty lock until it shuddered and scrapped across the door into place. "We will use this valuable time to gather information on our enemy." Riddle gestured with his hand towards the filth ridden table and the chairs with rotten, uneven spindly legs.

Harry moved away from the window hurriedly but hesitated to sit on the horrid chair.

Riddle pulled out a wand that Harry recognised as Ginny's and changed his own chair, making the wood rich, glossy and most importantly – safe.

Riddle sat down, smoothing his transfigured robes (when had he done that? Harry hadn't seen a thing) with regal hands before he gestured again at Harry to sit again, a hint of impatience shown through his slight frown. Harry looked at his rotten chair pointedly and then back at the teenager.

Riddle caught the obvious look and his face suddenly lit up in amusement, his lips pursing a little as he smiled in a cruel way and he leant forward a little. "Ask me for it, Harry. Beg for it." He eyed the displeased pull of Harry's lips with humour before he added. "If that's too much for your pride, then by all means, sit down."

Harry looked at the chair critically, the green tinges to parts of the blackened wood, and the splinters falling of its legs – legs too weak to hold his admittedly light bodyweight. He turned back to the teenager before focussing on the boy's chin, to avoid the smug look that he would wear and how those freaky eyes would shine with glee at the prospect. "Please, Riddle, will you change my chair?"

"Hm," Riddle scoffed, "You will have to work on your tone, later though, as I have a present for you right now." None-the-less, he waved his acquired wand at the chair opposite him, turning it into a slightly more stable and less rotten chair. "Sit, sit." Riddle commanded, with an excited tremor almost running through his body.

Harry sat down cautiously, avoiding putting his hands on the table which looked alive with rot and insects.

Riddle smiled and turned slightly on his chair, reaching for a stack of newspapers, mostly covered in a cloth. "I've been collecting these for you for some time. I know you do not receive any news over the summer, and that is not fair, no, not in the slightest." His fingers gathered the loose papers securely and he twisted the pile in his arms before dumping them in the middle of the table for Harry's perusal. "Consider this your…welcoming gift." Riddle smirked, hollow eyes reflecting the light from the candle on the table. "I'll leave you to enjoy it." He said softly, before he got up and brushed the imaginary dirt of his robes. He patted Harry on the head gently as he moved into the back room – shutting the door softly behind him.

Harry looked at the pile in trepidation, whatever Riddle had got excited about these was surely not good. Harry took a deep breath and reached out a shaky hand to the pile, resting the tips of his fingers on the smooth black fabric for a moment before scrunching his face up and biting the bullet – so to speak. His fingers grasped the cloth and he pulled it off with force and speed, unintentionally sending the cloth fluttering over his shoulder onto the floor.

He picked up the paper at the top of the pile, the most recent by the feel of the paper and lack or creasing and dampness.

Pulling it closer and looking at the headline dominating the front page Harry's breath caught and stopped for a timeless moment at what he was reading.

ALBUS DUMBLEDORE DEAD!

For that moment, that second where Harry's mind had short-circuited and didn't allow him to feel anything about what he had read, all he could think was damn that bastard, Riddle!

He felt winded and desolate and so with shaky hands he held the paper up closer and read the article, word for word before he felt emotion – better to digest the information before he was overcome with emotion.

"Amazing, isn't it?" Riddle whispered from the back room, where he had opened the door and was leaning against the damp wall.

Harry dropped the paper onto the table and didn't say anything.

"Come see your room – I'm afraid will have to share, but you may have to share with less pleasant people in the future. Consider this another lesson."

Harry pushed up away from the table and went to see the room. Oh God! It was terrible. Blackened walls and floor, mould growing in large patches with rotten fingers spread across the wall. The mattresses looked disgusting, no beds just the thing mattresses on the floor.

"Please tell me you're going to change that. They must be riddled with bugs and dirt." Harry begged, tone pleading but he didn't care – he couldn't sleep on one of those.

He heard Riddle laugh loudly and felt the boy's excited movements when the boy put a shaking hand on his shoulder. Harry shut his eyes despairingly – Christ above, what had he done?

~For Victory~

Harry soon found that Riddle was also prone to temper tantrums and rants, but Riddle was like a sponge, even when he was ranting he was learning and planning – Harry wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing.

"Ah, the arrogance of mankind, all animals mate and fuck, only humans are presumptuous enough to label their shagging as making love." Riddle moaned, as he shut the book he was reading and tossed it in the fire. "Why must some authors romanticise history?! Honestly Harry?! Why?! What a world we are living in, hmm?"

Harry looked up from prodding his dinner miserably and frowned in confusion at Riddle.

Riddle just waved his hand dismissively and picked up his fork. "Never mind, but take this as a friendly warning." He leant forward, pointing at Harry significantly with a diced carrot on his fork. "If you want clean cut history, do not read any of those books." He then pointed at a pile of books on the end of the table. "I wish to read history, not the torrid love affair between two insignificant people who have no bearing on the events in history. I suppose that it is some feeble attempt to sell history better." Riddle scowled at Harry's lack of response. "I was told they were best sellers, I should have listened to my gut – true history is boring, true history doesn't sell! I am telling you, Harry, sex sells – it wouldn't have in my day."

Harry might have found it funny if he wasn't so cautious about setting of Riddle's temper. Riddle however had paused, mid-chew, his face considering before he continued to chew and swallow before he speak. "Sex sells doesn't it?" He asked himself, picking up his glass of water and his eyes focused on Harry. "Might be useful to know later on, Harry."

Why didn't they see Riddle for what he was? Harry asked himself spitefully as he seethed on the sofa.

Riddle had taken Harry out and down into the village to get some food and Riddle had charmed the girl in the shop. He had bestowed a dazzling grin upon the girl and chatted to her about all the inane things in the world, luring her closer and closer with that angelic face that promised all the goods in the world.

How was it that only Harry could see the dead eyes, the false charm, the smarmy sliding facial mask that never seemed to completely fit.

Even the old women – the girl's grandmother- was charmed by Riddle's act, praising his looks, his voice and was exceedingly close to pinching Riddle's cheeks at the joy of having such a charming, young man in her shop.

"Surely at her age she would know better, be wiser." Harry muttered under his breath.

'Ah, Harry, didn't you know that the older you become, the more childish you are?' Riddle looked up from his book, which was resting on his knees, with a small bemused smile. "They do not notice because they are dumb. They aren't like you and with you I never have to pretend. Be glad, you're one of the few who I don't pretend with." Harry very much doubted that but Riddle seemed keen to get back on the topic of age.

"Look at the beloved Dumbledore – he feels he is entitled because he is old, he has earned his right to whatever he desires." Riddle sneered as he ran his finger down the crease of the aged tome. He hummed a little under his breath and gathered his thoughts before turning back to Harry. "Be glad you aren't old, Harry." He whispered softly. "Age makes us worse people. Makes us tired and angry. Dumb." He muttered, looking resentfully at the fireplace. "I feel old at times." He looked down at the page in silence as though struck by the truth of what he had said, he continued again quietly. "Never being allowed to die makes us prone to temper tantrums and making crass decisions." Suddenly he slammed his book shut, eyes bright and wide, and he tossed the book on Harry as he darted towards the window and tilted his head at odd angles to see through the caked on grime and shading his eyes with his hand as he concentrated on the outside.

"Riddle?" Harry asked, his tone a little meek, Riddle could be scary when he got a 'bee in his bonnet' so to speak. He himself was liable to throw temper tantrums in this state, with spittle flying and glaring dead eyes, ruffled hair and hellfire in that beautiful face.

Riddle's voice was little muffled as his face was so close to the glass and he said "My dear older counterpart is rather old, rather quick at making crass decisions, wouldn't you say?" Riddle turned to face Harry, a slight grin on his face. "Stupid enough to trust Lucius Malfoy with things in the Government, wouldn't you say?" He strode towards Harry and plucked the book out of his hands. "Age makes us stupid Harry and set in our ways. Be glad we are young, Harry." He fingers squirmed around the book, clenching and letting go in his fever, "We are going to win this war, Harry, we will, we will." He smiled, his eyes darting around the squalid surroundings, blinding the grimness away with his dazzling smile and white teeth. "This world is for the taking, especially when only old men linger around, bony fingers clutching onto life feebly, we'll turn them to ash, Harry, oh yes! Harry! We'll win this war!"

Riddle went into the back room and shut the door behind him after that, not another word coming past his lips. Harry hadn't a clue what he was on about.

~For Victory~

"I might remove your sight for a few hours, Harry." Riddle whispered in the pitch black room, with only a plume of moonlight focused on the opposite wall, illuminating the rusty door handle on the door through the holey curtain that was hanging from the rotten curtain pole.

Harry considered pretending he was asleep but he knew that even though Riddle was on the other side of the dark room that he could tell Harry wasn't.

"Why?" He whispered hoarsely instead, his voice cracking in exhaustion and wariness.

There was the sound of Riddle shifting in his bed, his bare feet slapping the floor as he sat up. "Because I can." Was the response the boy gave, simple and smooth and Harry heard the weak mattress shift as Riddle got up. "You might one day lose your sight, Harry. Lord knows it's poor enough as it is but one day you might be in a fight, hit with a spell and-" Suddenly the moonlight disappeared as Riddle threw a sheet over the window, the white moon being cut out of the room. "-the lights will go out. You'll need to be able to cope, Harry." Riddle hummed, "The original curtains are terrible aren't they?" He didn't seem interested in Harry's answer – nor did he want one. "I hope you don't mind me blocking the moonlight, Harry, but I have become used to the pitch black between the pages of a diary. I cannot sleep with any sort of light now."

Harry swallowed, it sounded loud in the silence which in itself was ringing. How could he respond to that?

"I would take your eyes too, Harry." Riddle continued, changing subject as quickly, as he was wont to do. "However, I am only young myself and have not had the chance to pursue that vein of knowledge." There was dry, amused huff from the blackness, "I'm afraid you'd be eyeless forever."

"Are you going to do it for all my senses?" Harry asked, with no little fear and he let it show – though he had come to the conclusion that Riddle did not understand or recognise fear when he saw or heard it, but Riddle did seem to acknowledge that Harry didn't like something by the tone of his voice.

Riddle hummed, "No, I don't think I shall." He paused before continuing. "That is not Voldemort's style. His focus is the exploitation of your senses – he will make you feel so much that you'll think that the world is ending and you're in hell. Be it pain or pleasure, Voldemort will destroy you with sensation."

Harry said nothing, but turned to face in the direction that Riddle was, a sudden feeling that he should never ever turn his back on Riddle – something he has always known and felt but suddenly this was all that little more real. Like the film had stopped running and Harry realised this is really happening, this is my life.

"Are you going to do what he would?" Harry asked, half into his flat pillow, his eyes half closed and his breathing a little shallow.

Riddle laughed "Maybe one day – maybe you'll be ready one day, Harry, but not yet. I don't wish to break and kill you. Well, not yet anyway."

"Comforting." Harry muttered under his breath as he pulled the blanket up to his chin, hiding his scrawny arms under the covers.

Riddle said nothing but Harry got the impression that he was smiling. He could imagine Riddle's lips pulling upwards and he heard Riddle murmur, "Goodnight, Harry."

Harry paused with hesitation, "…Night." He whispered, letting his eyes shut but his shoulders did not relax in the slightest, not one bit.

~For Victory~

Harry's leg was on fire, thorny vines of pain embedded into the flesh of his left calf and they flared with agony.

He thought the bone was actually shattered and the fragments of bone were being twisted in his muscles. Harry hissed through clenched teeth as the pain spiked and his hands hovered over the limb, unwilling to touch it but wanting to do something to stop the sickening pain.

Riddle closed his book suddenly, freezing in his spot and tilting his head towards the door. His dead eyes widened. "Hide Harry! Under the sofa and do not move!" Riddle hissed, folding his hands calmly on the table and becoming motionless.

Harry looked around in panic before shuffling towards the sofa, his broken leg dragging behind him beyond painfully.

Harry had only just got under the chair, pulling his limp leg by the trouser, when the front door burst open. Harry's scar began to prickle warningly and Harry could hear the dragging of robes on the dirty floor. The mysterious figure moved across the floor and knelt on the floor, near the floorboard that radiated dark magic. Two pale, long hands came to rest on the floor, the thin fingers pulling up the rotten wood. Harry pressed closer to the floor, peering slightly to see who it was.

Harry's throat closed at he saw Voldemort's snake like face bend down to peer into the black space from which he had removed the wooden covering. His scar simmered on his forehead and Harry watched as Voldemort smiled at whatever he had hidden under the floor, and he placed the board back and added some additional spells.

Suddenly Voledmort's head reared up, distracted from its previous concentration, and Voldemort inhaled loudly, the thin flaps that were his nostrils widening. Voldemort's pupils expanded, red pooling black as the pupil rapidly dilated and the man's mouth opened as he drew more air in. He seemingly tasted the air and he bent down, looking at the disturbed floorboard and inhaling curiously.

Harry watched with fear curdling his spine, goose bumps all over his arms and neck.

Voldemort's eyes shut as he continued to smell around the board, before his head snapped to the side, blood red eyes opened and focussed on Harry under the sofa. Harry let out a loud gasp but Voldemort didn't react in the slightest, he peered a little closer but showed no reaction that suggested he knew Harry was there.

His brow creased as he sat up, smoothing his hands over the board one final time before getting up smoothly and leaving, the swaying of his robe scraping the rough boards and the door shutting softly signalling his departure.

Harry held his breath until he heard Riddle get up excitedly and crouch down by the sofa, looking at Harry in the darkness with a cheery grin. "Isn't it fantastic, Harry?" He gushed in a happy whisper, "He is older and more arrogant and stupid that I could have ever imagined!"

"Why-" Harry croaked and coughed at the inhalation of dust "Why didn't he notice us?" He managed to squeak out through his rough and parched throat. "He was looking right at me!"

"Ah!" Riddle scoffed, smile unaffected, "This little…shack is saturated with his magic – and therefore mine. I played a little with it whilst we've been staying here – if we stay still, we simply blend in to the surroundings. So, when darling old me came in to check on his little-" A sly glance was directed at the mysterious floor board. "-investment, he didn't notice us. Good for you especially – he might kill you on the spot, that is of course, unless he didn't want to paste your guts all over the floor before he ended your miserable existence." Riddle's hands darted into the blackness and snatched at Harry's shirt, pulling him out into the light. "Feel free to thank me at any point and marvel at my fantastic and amazing spellwork."

Harry, though immediately impressed (who wouldn't be?!)felt a former spark of irritation and anger, which was quickly aggravated by the jostling of his broken leg. "I'll be a damn sight more impressed Riddle, when you've fixed the bloody leg you've broken! My leg!"

Riddle looked enthralled by Harry's fiery tone as he continued to drag Harry out. "Ah, but Harry, this is a lesson – one you are failing to grasp entirely."

"I can barely deal with the pain – I feel sick!" Harry hissed as he emerged into the shadowy light.

"I would be surprised if you weren't feeling sick, Harry." Riddle's hands hooked themselves under Harry's armpits. "It was a rather cruel thing for me to do, but, and there is always a but, I only did it because it is a lesson you must learn." Riddle started to lift Harry with barely any strain in his voice as he spoke. Harry's right leg managed to get a semblance of balance when he realised that Riddle was still lifting him.

"R-Riddle?" He asked nervously as his toes began to graze the floor. "What are you doing?!"

"Teaching you a lesson, Harry." Riddle replied, "You have good instincts and decent control over your magic. However, you need to learn to use it intensively and with sharp control. You haven't managed that today, have you?" Riddle's grip shifted and his tone was decisive. Before Harry could begin to panic Riddle had loosened his hands allowing Harry to drop to the floor.

Instinctively, Harry tensed and braced himself for the pain on his leg hitting the floor; eyes clenched shut as he fell. However, when his feet struck the floor there was only the heavy thud of his bodyweight hitting the floor and the slight numbness in his legs as they shook a little with the force that they hit the floor.

Harry opened his eyes in shock and looked down at his two whole legs, straight and unbroken resting on the floor.

"See?" Riddle asked. "You need to learn to use your magic to heal your bones instantly – without my interference."

Harry wiggled his toes and grinned in amazing.

"Now again." Riddle commanded, with a lash of his wand causing several loud cracks and blistering pain as Harry's leg was once again shattered. Harry fell to the floor with a groan and glared up at Riddle through tears of pain.

"Here is a hint for you, Harry. Remember the feeling before I dropped you. Remember it and use it."

~For Victory~

Riddle taught Harry chess, he told Harry that it would teach him strategy – but most importantly patience. It was during one of these games that Riddle decided to breach into Harry's childhood.

"Tell me Harry, did you ever long for your muggles' affection?" He moved his rook casually, shifting in his chair slightly and regally placing his hands upon the arms. "Especially when you were a child?"

Harry glared at the black and white board, the little black and white pieces unmoving and waiting…like Riddle himself. He unclenched his hands from the seat of his chair, where he had been holding it so tightly that he wondered if his fingers had indented the weak wood. With a hand that had stark white finger tips and angry blood filled fingers Harry reached towards the chessboard.

He paused; however, when he saw Riddle's fingers drum an impatient beat, only once, across the arm of the chair, the horrid gaudy ring he had taken to wearing on his finger catching the light and the well-trimmed, tidy nails hitting the wood in succession.

Riddle had emptied the cavity under the floor the moment Voldemort was absconded back in his lair, he had found the ring dispelled the curses on it and had taken to wearing the ring at all times. He had replaced the floorboard and spells – creating the illusion that all was well and nothing had changed. Harry didn't know why he wore it – perhaps he saw some claim to it or perhaps it was his version of mocking Voldemort although the man would never see Riddle with it – or at least most likely wouldn't.

"Didn't you? When you were a child?" Harry asked, softly and quietly with his head down, lengthening hair covering his eyes from view. He heard Riddle chuckle, deeply with a hint of pleasure.

"Taking my advice, Harry?" Harry looked up through the gaps in his hair, above his glasses making Riddle blur into a domineering black wraith with almost white skin, flashing teeth and dark beetle eyes. The creature smiled even more, white spreading across its face with a line of deep pink framing it. "Deflecting questions so obviously will not work in the real world, Harry." Riddle said, black, white and pink flashing as he spoke. "However, I will give you a boon for your attempt." Riddle concurred, as Harry pushed his glasses up his nose with one finger and Riddle slipped into defined focus – his face hadn't even moved, a mask set in stone, if Harry hadn't heard the pretence of emotion in his voice, he would have never had thought Riddle might have even tried to mean something.

"I never wanted help or advice from my caretakers. Most definitely, I never wanted affection from them, I never understood it." Riddle leaned forward, his face coming closer to the chessboard as he spoke fervently. "I would see it all and I would mimic it. Most women love a little face scrunched up with tears. Especially in my day, made women feel useful and if they were willing? Well Harry, you answer me, who was I to say no?" His brown eyes looked up with endearing qualities from the Queen which he had focused on. "When the emotional world is your oyster, Harry, you'd be a fool not to. It was so easy to twist them and see them get emotionally tied up in obligations they could not fulfil – and I thought to myself, I am blessed by the Lord himself to be spared this torture and I have been given this gift to make my way through the world, through the masses and become a GOD myself!" He grinned that hollow grin, and for once as Harry looked at Riddle eye to eye, locked in that powerful gaze with him, he could see the glee and the happiness radiate from Riddle as he continued in a hushed, sensual whisper. "I will part the masses like the Red Sea." Through the last movement of his lips as he spoke, he pouted blowing out a powerful stream of air, shaking the chess pieces and causing them to move away from him, parting down the middle and falling over, rolling, rolling and dropping of the board to the floor with loud, deafening clatters. By God, he's mad! Harry thought, the desire to leave never being stronger…but he had chosen this path, he had to stick to it.

Harry's shoulders hitched with every chess piece falling to the floor, his head trying to sink into his torso and his hands clasped together, tightly with fear, he was rigid and he daren't move as Riddle's gaze remained on the chessboard with the glowing embers of passion and belief.

One last chess piece rolled into Harry's lap, a pawn, and it sat next to his clasped hands, resting on his joined legs. Harry looked at it, feeling oddly empathic with the carved piece of wood in that split second until he was jarred out of it with the sound of loud laughter and cheers from outside. Riddle sat up quickly, inquisitively, and pulled back the curtain a little. "Ooh, something is happening outside, how exciting." Riddle commented with a tone that was light and airy. "I do wonder what is going on."

…And the moment was broken and Harry felt himself able to breathe again, his body juddering with fear and a bit of shock as he took giant silent gulps of air as discreetly as he could whilst Riddle's head was behind the curtain.

~For Victory~

They had been at the little shack for four and a half weeks when Riddle decided to do something risky and rather Gryffindor.

Riddle ran outside, swinging the door open with force and striding out, waving his arms about his head as Lucius Malfoy strode down the path from the old Riddle house. The blonde man narrowed his eyes at the boy, who wasn't a muggle as he could see him behind the extensive wards. He drew his wand subtlety and continued in the same pace towards the boy. The boy put his hand on the moss riddled wall in front of the decrepit shack he was staying in. Riddle enjoyed watching the man's mouth cringe as he took in the state of the place. Riddle didn't want him too close and so he shouted out, loudly and boldly "How's the Dark Lord, Malfoy?" He laughed a little, obscenely, and he saw the man pause mid-stride in shock before he brought his wand into full view and sent a curse at Riddle.

Riddle laughed again, his faux casual demeanour disappearing and he ran into the house quickly and slammed the door shut behind him, leaning against it in breathless excitement. "Harry!" He called out, with a quiver "Gather your meagre things! Quickly! We are leaving now!"

Harry looked at him in confusion but moved to his truck and put back in the few things he had taken out in the mouldy hell hole.

Only when he was packed did he breach the question to Riddle. "Why are we leaving?"

Riddle rolled his eyes "Because we've been discovered, Stupid!" He made a sharp gesture to Harry's trunk with his wand, shrinking it, "Put it in a secure pocket." Just then a loud clatter shook the house and Riddle grinned, peering out the window "Ah-ha, Harry! Our little Lucius had brought some friends to try and bring us out." He chuckled grimly, "Whether we are alive or not does not seem to be of any importance to them, not it the slightest." He placed his books in his bag, calmly and patiently, before he shrunk it and placed it in his pocket. "Come over here, Harry, I have a portkey."

As he said it, there was a large groan from the ceiling, and a giant crack ran from the beam into the middle of the ceiling. Riddle frowned "Ah, seems our beloved little home is falling down, Harry." He put his hand on Harry's shoulder and moved him away from the crack, under the smooth ceiling. "Hum, bit of a problem there." He glanced around before brightening and saying "Under the sofa, Harry. I know the floor is deplorable and disgusting but under you go."

Harry begrudgingly crawled under the sofa, and a second later Riddle slid in after him, almost on top of him so neither of them was exposed and unprotected by the sofa.

"Don't you see, Harry?" Riddle asked, breath disturbing Harry's hair at their close proximity. "The Dark Lord will not be pleased with today's actions. Lucius knows this house belongs to the Dark Lord – but obviously not the reasons why." Riddle's head turned as glass shattered and the death eater's voices became louder. He continued on, "He will have destroyed this house, which used to hold something very important to him – excluding myself and of course you." He shifted his weight a little. "When Lucius brings this house down upon our heads – or at least he thinks he will, he shall report it to the Dark Lord, who shall promptly kill him…maybe torture him a little first…maybe his family. What a lovely surprise that will be. You see not only has he let a mysterious boy go, who knows the Dark Lord's location, he has lost something prized by the Dark Lord and he has lost me, and when dear old Lucius describes me, the Dark Lord shall realise I am alive. Lucius was entrusted to my care for many years and he threw me away and aren't 'I' going to be mad?!" Riddle's chuckle blew hot air all over Harry's face, making him blink. "That is three losses by Lucius in one day. Also there is you, seeing as you disappeared at the end of the school year and since then have never been seen – events that the Dark Lord will realise are Lucius's fault." Riddle smiled. "Dear old Me, will kill off his weak link and create an even bigger one for us to exploit – the Government – no longer kept in check by dear old Lucius. I've been reading the papers – the ones you neglect and I know that at this precise moment in time everything in the government hinges on Lucius's influence – everything they are trying to instigate will fall around them with Lucius's death. My dear elder self, however, shall think of none of that in his fit pique…and-" Riddle snapped his fingers, a loud sharp click ringing out clearly despite the house falling down around them "-just like that the world is ours… No one will be able to step up to the mantel with the same efficiency as him, the Government will fall." Riddle sighed with delight. "I am brilliant aren't I, Harry?"

Harry had to concede that it was pretty good, but he refused to nod or blink or acknowledge that fact.

He felt the wards shake and the house withered a little at the battering. Harry looked up at Riddle crushing him to the floor, chest to chest, nose to nose and those dead eyes flashing with something excited and deranged. With each rattle, those dead pupils expanded and the grin widened. Harry was panicking, his breathing ragged as he struggled under Riddle.

Only a few seconds until the portkey whisked them away to safety.

The roof groaned again under the onslaught and Harry's limbs trembled, on the verge of hysteria and he could feel a scream of fear building in his throat, squirming up his gullet. Until Riddle's left hand, with that evil ring on it, came up to his neck and pushed down on it, choking the sound. With a voice full of vile gentleness, Riddle ran the back of his hand down Harry's cheek, the cold stone in his ring burning into Harry's flesh with its deathly chill. "Shh Harry, shhh!" Riddle whispered, pressing his finger against Harry's closed mouth.

"Can you hear them, Harry?" He continued a smiled appearing on his face in the dim light. There were yells and the distinct sound of the beams groaning under the spells. Harry nodded against the finger and Riddle chuckled under his breath, the smell of mint still lingering on it. "Not them Harry, silly boy. Your heart knows it." That hand was pressed against his chest, his heart underneath the layers of flesh, muscle and bone pounding away to a fast beat. Riddle leant closer again, "The drums of war." Riddle's fingers struck his chest along with his heartbeat, bah-bum bah-bum bah-bum bahbum bahbum bahbumbahdumbahdumbahbum, and it was ringing in his ears, and those godforsaken eyes glowing in the darkness at him. Riddle pressed his face up against Harry's, the eyes filled with unholy light unblinking and he felt Riddles lips whisper onto his own "War's coming, Harry." Just before he felt the tell-tale tug behind his navel of the portkey activating and whisking them away.

A/N – Please review for me?!

I'm going off to uni VERY soon, so please, please, pretty please give me some reviews to feel good when I go? I got 2A*BC in my A-levels (even though I only revised the night before the exams - not a smart thing to do!), so I'm feeling good about myself – I'm off to uni to become a real scientist :D

I hope my Riddle isn't too crazy for people to not enjoy but let me know :)

As I said, please review before I go off to uni :P Thank you :)