A/N: Massive thanks to my beta Neisseria for the help. Check out her story, Rustlings in the dark. If you’re going to read a fic (besides this one) today, read that.

Chapter five

“Mr. P-Potter, would you care to stay behind for a moment?” asked Professor Quirrell.

Harry turned to see Padma shrug and wave a goodbye as the rest of the students proceeded out of the classroom. He brought his bag to his shoulder and walked towards Quirrell’s desk. He caught a faint whiff of garlic as the Professor placed several ancient looking books into their proper places on the bookshelf.

Standing awkwardly, Harry asked, “Of course, sir; what do you want?”

“As-as you know, we have just f-finished the summary of Grindlewald’s r-reign of terror and we are to proceed onto the next topic. How m-much do you know of H-He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?”

Harry froze. On some level he knew this was coming, but to have it laid out before him like this knocked him off guard.

“He was a dark wizard who murdered my parents and tried to kill me. He failed.”

Quirrell winced slightly at Harry’s blunt tone. “Yes, but do you know why he came after your family on that night? While the Potter name carried some weight, they still weren’t all that well known. So why then would the Dark Lord choose to attack them?”

Harry stood there, stunned. He had never questioned; he had never wondered why Voldemort would attack an infant. “I don’t know, Professor. Nobody does as far as I can tell.”

“On the contrary, Mr. Potter; everyone knows, or at least they think they do. Everybody has their own secret little theory about what happened that night. Most are just nonsense but others have merit.”

Harry shuffled his feet nervously. A bead of sweat trickled down his temple. “What do you mean?”

“There are many theories about what happened that night Harry. You would do well to remember that history is written by the victors. The dead never have much input. The reason I’m telling you this, Harry, is because I see great potential in you, as do a great many others I might add.”

“Sir, what do you mean when you say there are other versions of what happened that night? I’ve only ever heard one.”

“Yes, the Ministry approved version is the most popular. People like to think that they’re safe and well, it scares them to think that a part of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named might still live somewhere out there. Headmaster Dumbledore believes that he is still out there somewhere, waiting. So you see, two of the most powerful icons in wizarding Britain believe in two different versions. "Why, some people even believe that He Who Must Not Be Named did not intend to kill you and your family; some say that you were to be his equal and it was Sirius Black who caused all the unpleasantness that occurred that night." At Harry's disbelieving look, Quirrell gave a wry smile. "Ludicrous, I know, but no one really knows what happened that night."

Harry stared at his Professor. “And what do you believe, Sir?”

“I believe that we don’t know all the facts. I was abroad at the time He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named rose to power so I never experienced it first-hand. I will, however, say that many believed him to be a revolutionary. Many believed him to be the light that would lead the wizarding world into brighter times.”

“Of course for every wizard and witch who believes that, there are ten who will swear he was evil incarnate. Either way he was a threat to the way things were and most people didn’t approve of that. There is no doubt that he used chaos to help achieve his goals. I myself knew many people who are dead because of him.”

Harry readjusted his feet awkwardly. A dull ache was beginning to form in his shoulders where his bag was resting. “Why are you telling me this Professor?”

“I am a firm believer that knowledge of the attack is the greatest form of defence. To that end, I’m giving you a project worth a maximum of fifty house points.” Seeing Harry’s interest peaked, Quirrell sat back and adjusted his turban. “I want you to create your own theory about what happened that night. It will involve heavy research, but if you want to prepare yourself for the storm that will come if he returns, then I think it is worth the effort.”

“Feel free to say no, Mr. Potter; I can understand your reluctance.”

Harry felt a strange mix of emotions. He was slightly angry at Quirrell for bringing the subject up in the first place, but after hearing the Professor speak all he felt was confusion. A lot of what he had said had made sense and if he was honest with himself, it scared him. He took a breath hand made his decision. “I’ll do it. Are there any guidelines?”

Quirrell grinned. “Not many, Mr. Potter. You can choose to present it any way you want as long as you explain how you drew your conclusions. It must be kept secret though; if other students were to learn that I was offering you this chance, they would cry favouritism. You may ask one person and one person only to help you and it must be someone you trust. Do you understand?” At Harry’s nod he continued, “I will give you two names to get you started. Look for Sirius Black and Tom Riddle.”

“Yes Sir. When is it due?” Harry asked.

Quirrell rose and gestured at the door. “Before the end of the year will do. Before you go Mr. Potter, remember this: even in the castle you can’t trust everyone and the eyes are the gateway to the mind. Be wary of whose eyes you choose to meet. You are dismissed.”

Deeply confused, Harry nodded and left the darkened room.

Minutes later, Harry dropped into one of the large Bronze armchairs at the edge of the common room and started to think.

“Hello? Snap snap Harry! I’ve called over to you three times now. You seem to be doing your level best to impersonate Binns.”

Harry looked up startled at Padma’s amused smile.

“Hey Padma?”

“Yeah?”

“When did Quirrell stop stuttering?”

“He’s stopped? I hadn’t noticed. Why did he keep you behind anyway?” She asked.

“He gave me a project. Feel like helping? We have to keep it quiet though.”

“Ooh, secret projects! Can we sleuth?  We could get a third year to pick us up a pair of Fedoras in Hogsmeade. What’s it about - find the lost recipe of garlic and onion soup?”

Harry smiled at Padma’s eagerness. “Sorry to crush your dreams, but it’s about something a bit more complicated than garlic and onion soup.”

“Okay then, what’s it about?”

Harry told her.

D

Lord Voldemort sat back in his chair. It wasn’t the type of grand throne he was used to but there was a sense of power that came with a teacher’s chair. From this position he could change lives. He could mould impressionable minds and instil doubt with a minimum of effort.

He watched a confused Harry Potter leave the room and he smiled. The seeds of doubt were sown. Young Potter and his friends were smart enough to follow the large clues he had dropped them. Giving the boy his former name been a stroke of genius. The halls of this castle were filled with trophies and awards, many of which had been won by Tom Riddle, who was an exemplary student. Dumbledore would eventually tell young Potter about the connection between Lord Voldemort and Tom Riddle; it had been a favourite issue of his to crow about during the last war. Fortunately, most of the people he told were now dead.

The boy would hopefully have a hard time reconciling the young and brilliant Tom Riddle with the Dark Lord Voldemort.

The other name he had dropped was more for his own amusement. Even Dumbledore believed that Black had betrayed the Potters. The irony was delicious. Briefly, he wondered what had actually happened to Pettigrew; the little rat was far too cowardly to die that easily.

Thinking of his former followers darkened his mood considerably. Snape had taken to following him around the castle whenever he could. Three times he attempted to retrieve the Diadem and three times Snape had thwarted him. How he would pay when the time came. Fury welled up inside him and he longed for an outlet. His eyes wandered over to the trunk at the back of the room.

Yes, maybe it’s time for that particular course of action, he thought maliciously. The half breed oaf should be ruined once and for all. It would make a rather splendid diversion.

The man hoisted a large bundle from the trunk, cast a spell over himself and let the darkness conceal him as he made his way to the Hog’s Head.

D

Halloween came and went without any fanfare. The first years had settled and were now acting as if they owned the place. One little thing stopped Harry Potter from thoroughly relaxing into his new world: Professor Quirrell’s warning. He had almost expected life in the castle to be a fairytale. It wasn’t. He had great friends and he almost felt at home, but life wasn’t all it seemed. Quirrell’s warning had awakened a new level of paranoia in Harry and everywhere he went he heard the sneers and insults just as clearly as he heard the awestruck whispers. It saddened him but he knew Quirrell was right; he couldn’t trust everyone.

One of the people he had noticed sneering at him was Michael Corner. After the incident with Kevin he had become increasingly hostile towards Harry up to the point where he had heard Corner trying to convince Seamus Finnigan from Gryffindor that Harry was the next Voldemort. He had to stifle his laughter when Finnigan’s friend Weasley had hexed him and told him to stay away from the Gryffindor table. Weasley was a first class pain but he had his uses.

One other thing that bothered Harry was the ‘project’ that Professor Quirrell had given him. Even with Padma’s help finding information about Tom Riddle was proving to be a difficult task. They hadn’t even started researching Sirius Black yet.

On one particularly frustrating evening Padma slammed an old Hogwarts yearbook on the table in the Ravenclaw common room, crossed her arms and stared moodily at Harry.

“This is ridiculous! The yearbooks won’t help. We don’t even know when this person went to school!”

Harry looked up from the yearbook he was studying. “It’s about my parents so it’s a safe enough guess that we should start looking around that time frame. It‘s a long shot but we don‘t know where else to start do we?”

“What if he didn’t go to Hogwarts? There are other magical schools he could have gone to.”

“Tom Riddle doesn’t sound very French to me, Padma.”

“Yes because Padma Patil is a typical old English name. He probably did go to Hogwarts but we don‘t know that for sure. We need a better plan. Why don‘t you ask Flitwick? He‘s been around for long enough,” she replied.

“You know, Tom Riddle sounds familiar,” intoned Kevin.

Harry jumped. “Where did you come from? You shouldn’t be listening in on private conversations.”

“Relax, I just overheard while I was walking over. I’m sure I’ve heard of Tom Riddle somewhere before.”

“Where?” asked both Padma and Harry.

“Lemme think for a minute... crap yeah, remember when Filch made me polish the silver after setting that tapestry on fire while practising charms?”

Of course Harry remembered. For some reason the Alohamora spell was even more destructive that the Levitation Charm when wielded by Kevin.

“Well it was on a load of the trophies. Why you looking for him anyway?”

“He was a genius at Runes. I wanted to prove to Harry that he was the top Runes expert in Britain,” Padma lied smoothly.

“And I’m telling you that the top Runes expert in Britain is… Sirius Black,” Harry said, quite pleased with the fact that he had successfully contributed to a lie.

“Wasn’t he one of You-Know-Who’s top men?” Kevin asked, confused.

Harry saw Padma’s face fall and he hurried to correct his mistake. “Uh….”

“That’s a different Sirius Black, Kevin. You should subscribe to Runes Monthly,” Padma said excitedly.

“Nah, I’m OK thanks. You two have your weird little Runes thing. I’m perfectly happy with first year concepts. See you guys later.” Kevin waved and walked across the common room before disappearing up the stairs.

Harry sighed in relief but Padma cut it short with a smack to his arm. “Don’t try to lie; you’re no good at it.”

“I thought Kevin was muggleborn? How come he recognised Sirius Black and you didn’t?” Harry asked.

“Kevin spends all him time reading about the war, how have you not noticed? Anyway, Dad‘s never really talked about the war at home.”

Sensing awkwardness, Harry moved on to a another question. “How weird is it that we’ve been looking for Tom Riddle for months and in one conversation Kevin tells us where to find out about both of them?”

“Yeah it’s strange. Disappointed you didn’t pick him to help you?” she laughed.

“Nah, he’s too prone to setting things on fire; it would be a distraction. Why do you think I’ve been asking about the Aguamenti charm?”

“I thought you were just curious. How’s that coming by the way?”

“Not great; it’s a sixth year spell. I should be ecstatic that I managed a water droplet the other day.”

“I still say that was condensation,” she teased.

“Bugger off. We can find out about Riddle tomorrow. I’m exhausted.”

“Yeah, me too. Think I’ll go to bed.” They both got up from their seats.

“Goodnight,” said Harry as he turned towards the staircase.

“Harry?” Padma asked. “Don’t you think it’s a bit strange for Quirrell to give you this project in the first place? We just found out that one of the clues he gave you is a Death Eater.”

Harry shrugged. “Since when has Quirrell been normal?”

Padma laughed. “I suppose. Night.”

D

“What’s the point of having a room to display trophies if it’s restricted?” Harry said as he crept through the third floor corridor. A suit of armour creaked and the pair froze; it would be just like Peeves to do his best to mess things up.

It was early on Sunday morning and as a result many of the school’s residents - including Filch, he hoped - were sound asleep.

“What’s the point of you dragging me down this draughty old corridor at this time on a Sunday morning when the project is only worth fifty points?” Padma asked testily. “I’m sure if we asked Flitwick he’d let us in at a normal time of day.”

“I don’t want Flitwick to get curious as to what we’re doing. Besides, stop moaning - fifty points is a lot; it’s more than that Granger girl gets in a fortnight.”

“Her name’s Hermione and you should be nice; she doesn’t have many friends.”

Harry pointed his wand at the lock and whispered, “Alohamora”. The door creaked as it swung open slightly. Harry slid in followed by Padma and surveyed the room. Old awards, trophies, statues, cups, plates and medals were kept in gleaming crystal display cases. Some were randomly floating around above their heads. “This is going to take all day.” Said Harry, despairing.

“It better not; breakfast starts in an hour. You start on that side,” directed Padma, pointing to the oddly shaped shelving on the right wall.

“Fine,” Harry muttered. “So why doesn’t she have many friends? I didn’t think Parvati would be the type to leave her out.”

“Oh I don’t know. Parvati hasn’t been the same since we were sorted. If anything she’s gotten even thicker,” Padma gritted out. “As to Hermione, she just has some insane need to prove that she’s as smart or smarter than everyone else. She’s a Muggleborn so she probably feels like she’s got something to prove. I think Weasley and Finnegan tease her enough that she just avoids everyone.”

“Weasley’s just strange,” Harry muttered. “Lisa said he was building me up as some sort of messiah.”

“Yeah but watching him and Malfoy go at it is pretty funny,” Padma said with a smile on her face.

Thinking about it made Harry cringe. The first year Gryffindor and Slytherin classes had been gathered on the Quidditch pitch for their first flying lesson. Longbottom had hurt himself and had to be taken to the hospital wing by Madam Hooch. Harry, Padma and Kevin had seen the events unfold from their position near the window of Binns class that faced the Quidditch pitch.

Malfoy seemed to wave at Weasley from his position on his broom.

Malfoy had merely laughed, taunted Weasley and flown higher. Harry had seen what was coming next. Weasley, enraged by Malfoy’s taunts, had taken his broom and flown after him. The next ten minutes had consisted of Weasley shakily chasing the blond haired boy around the pitch. Eventually Malfoy had started to look bored and had thrown a small object out across the pitch before coming down to land. Weasley obviously wanted the object and had dove after it to everyone’s shock. After a few seconds of freefall, Weasley’s hand had closed over the object and the Gryffindors had started to cheer wildly. They were cut off abruptly, however, when Weasley had crashed headfirst into the pitch breaking several bones, a school broom and the object that turned out to be Longbottom’s Remembrall.

At the time he’d felt only embarrassment for Weasley but now he chuckled whenever he thought of it. Even Padma had thought it was pretty funny.

“Yeah those two are pretty ridiculous. I’d disapprove of Malfoy goading him if Weasley wasn’t so thick. Before Halloween Weasley was moaning about how Malfoy had tricked him into a duel and then instead of showing up he’d tipped Filch off.”

“Seriously?” Padma asked. “How in Morgana’s name didn’t he realise that Malfoy wouldn’t honour his word?”

Harry didn’t reply, he was too engrossed in the Golden tablets mounted on the wall; it was a list of all the former Head boys and girls of Hogwarts. Harry scanned through the list, hoping to find mention of one of his parents. Sure enough, both James and Lily Potter had their names finely scratched in the glistening gold tablet. His parents were regarded as the finest students in their year; it was another small piece of information that Harry would keep with him.

He was broken out of his thoughts by Padma’s voice. “Harry… we’ve found him.”

Harry turned and made his way slowly to the large golden shield Padma was staring at.

                                                         Tom Marvolo Riddle 1938-1945 Slytherin
                                                      Award for services to the halls of Hogwarts
                                                          Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus