Pure

My Name is Tom Riddle

The great hall enchanted me. In my own time, the great hall had dazzled me with its ancient elegance, captivating me with hundreds of candles dancing about, lighting the expansive room. Now, it had that same elegance, but maintained a few subtle differences, which if I hadn't been looking for, would have been left unnoticed.

Light shone through the windows. Students I had never seen chatted with their friends in seats I knew should occupy other people. I reached the Gryffindor table, and sat in my usual seat. I looked across the table, where Ron and Harry would have been. I smiled sadly to myself. There was no one sitting there.

I looked down at my lap, wanting Harry and Ron to be beside me. They were part of me, my best friends.

But I was alone, alone in a world with no familiar faces to look at.

I stopped myself. I had to forget my past if I ever wanted to figure out how to leave 1943. I sat upright in my seat, and filled my plate. I really was hungry. I picked up some toast and scanned the great hall.

The Hufflepuff table didn't look too different from my own time. I never really knew many of the Hufflepuffs anyways. I did know a few Ravenclaws, and it saddened me to see that they were not sitting at their table.

My own table was fairly barren -not many of the Gryffindor's were awake yet- but still, a pang of sadness washed over me. I moved on so I didn't have to think about my friends.

The first thing I noticed about the Slytherin table was the lack of Draco Malfoy. I had already known I would no longer be called a mudblood, as no one knew me, let alone my blood status, but I still couldn't help but be relieved to see that he was not amongst the Slytherins. I scanned the rest of the table, and to be honest, they seemed more comfortable than the Slytherins had ever been in my time. They were by no means completely relaxed, but not many of them bore more than a slight scowl.

The mail arrived as I looked back at my plate. An owl flew directly to me, and dropped a piece of parchment in front of me. It bore the Hogwarts emblem where the parchment was attached.

I opened the parchment to see it was my new class schedule. Most of  the classes were advanced. It wasn't like I couldn't handle them, of course, but I couldn't help but be curious as to how the professors knew I could take such advanced classes before they tested my knowledge. It had to have been something Dumbledore did.

My eyes shot up suddenly, scanning the great hall once more. I got the sense that someone was watching me for the rest of breakfast. I couldn't see who it was, but I couldn't shake the feeling until I left for class.

~~~

I made my way to the dungeons for Advanced Potions. Students bustled about the corridors making their way to their classes, and I ushered more sentimental feelings to the back of my mind as I entered the potions classroom.

"Ah yes, and who do we have here?" a man asked. I assumed he was the potions teacher, but he did look rather familiar.

"I'm Hermione Granger, sir," I replied.

"Of course! Of course. Professor Dippet told me you would be joining our class today. My name is Professor Slughorn, and I'm sure you've gathered that I am the potions teacher."

Then I remembered where I had seen him before, the start of term feast. Professor 'Slughorn' was supposed to be my potions teacher in my present time this year. Harry had told me about him.

Slughorn continued, oblivious to the recognition in my eyes. "Challenging work, potions is. Especially this advanced, but not to worry! You'll catch on soon enough. Let's see then, I have already assigned potions partners according to the tables, but my prized student has kindly been working alone these past few days, so you may be his partner for this term. I'm sure he will be thrilled to no longer be forced to work alone, and he can help you catch up. Isn't that right Tom m'boy?" He asked, looking at someone who had just walked up behind me.

"Of course, sir," said a voice. The voice was pleasant to the ear, even slightly captivating. I turned to see who had spoken.

I saw a boy, the same age as I. He had a polite manner about him. His hand stretched out towards mine, and I took his hand. He held a slightly detached expression for a moment when I started to shake his hand.

"Hello, my name is Tom Riddle."

I whipped my hand away from his like he had burned me. And he had. I was burning with hate.

"Are you okay Miss Granger?" Tom Riddle, Voldemort, asked. His eye flickered, and I would have passed it off as nothing, but I knew better. He was enraged that I had torn my hand away from his.

"Yes, I'm fine," I said, with great effort.

Mostly, I was repulsed by the mere fact that I touched Lord Voldemort. But I was also repulsed at myself. I had been so dim witted not to see that being in 1943 would put me right in the middle of the time Voldemort would be at Hogwarts.

But he wasn't Voldemort, not really, not yet. Was he?

"Well, we should probably take our seats," said Riddle. Now that I knew he was Voldemort, I could hear the condescending tone that he hid.

"Um, right," I mumbled, shooting daggers at him with my eyes for a moment until I turned around and sat at the only empty table, in the front. He sat next to me at the table. His eyes, however, did not leave me, even as I tried to pay attention to Professor Slughorn's lecture.

I was interrupted from my note taking by a strange feeling. Looking up, I searched for anything out of place.

I concentrated on the feeling, trying to place it. It seemed familiar to me. Like someone was searching me, trying to find out... my secrets.

Legilimency.

The boy next to me, Voldemort, was trying to probe my mind. I was sure of it. His legilimency skills were unquestionable according to Harry.

I had attempted occlumency in the past, and had succeeded with the basics, so I slammed my mental walls up in the hope that Voldemort couldn't penetrate my mind. Of course, the Voldemort in my time probably could have easily gotten through my mental barriers, but my hope was that Tom Riddle was not as powerful yet.

Luckily, I was right. Tom Riddle wasn't skilled enough in legilimency. He continued to probe the barriers my mind for a few more minutes, looking for a crack in my mental barrier, then finally looked away from me, removing himself from the edges of my mind.  He looked towards Professor Slughorn with a masked confusion and anger, pretending to listen to the lecture.

I smirked to myself, looking away from Tom Riddle. I had won. Maybe he wasn't so powerful yet.

I paid attention to the rest of the lecture, furiously writing notes, trying to catch up on what I had missed during my battle with Tom Riddle. I was still a student, and I expected to remain at the top of the class, no matter what time I was in.

"Can one of you tell me what the Alihotsy draught does?" asked Slughorn in his lecture, but before I could raise my hand, Slughorn gestured to someone else. Tom Riddle.

"The Alihotsy draught is a potion made from the Alihotsy plant. Drinking it or inhaling its blue-coloured fumes induces hysteria," said Tom Riddle.

He had memorized the answer directly from a book. I knew this because I would have said the same answer, and I had memorized it from the book.

"Very good! Very good indeed, Tom m'boy! Five points to Slytherin!" Slughorn exclaimed. "But what about the antidote, hmm? Does anyone know?"

My hand shot into the air this time. So did Riddle's.

"How about you Miss Granger? Proving yourself I see?" Said Professor Slughorn.

"The treacle produced by the Glumbumble acts as an antidote to the effects of the Alihotsy draught. The Glumbumble is a grey, furry, flying insect that resides in dark and secluded places and feed on nettles."

"Very good Miss Granger! I see we have a bright new addition to Hogwarts! Very bright indeed.  Ten points to Gryffindor House!" said Slughorn.

I glanced at Tom Riddle and saw blank features staring straight ahead. He completely masked his expression. It bothered me. I had expected irritation, or at least a flicker of anger in his eyes. I had hoped to see something that would resemble a human reaction, but there was nothing. Nothing but a cold, hard, nothingness that was sitting in the seat beside me.

That was not a good sign.