July 11th, 1996

Harry ducked behind a piece of rubble as spellfire flew overhead. Panting, he closed his eyes as he attempted to control his breathing, making sure to refresh himself with a deep lungful of air. Wand at the ready, Harry slowly peeked around the side of the broken piece of marble he was using as cover, only to instinctively pull-back the moment a nasty-looking orange flare of light flashed past, barely whizzing by a centimeter away from his sweat-slick, unruly hair.

The intensity of the magical barrage upon Harry's impromptu piece of cover intensified as his attacker approached, chips of marble blowing off and flying past as the once-stately marble column quickly came to resemble a block of Swiss cheese more than a sturdy foundational support.

Harry breathed out; it was do-or-die now. Whirling around, he shot up and fired off a single Expelliarmus – which, unfortunately for the Hogwarts student, shot clean past his opponent – before being smacked in the chest by the tell-tale red flash of the Stunning Spell. The magical intensity of the spell blew Harry off his feet and threw him backwards into another column. Not that he noticed, since for him, the world went black the moment the spell hit his chest.

When Harry returned to consciousness, he groaned as he felt a deep, dull pain throb across his chest and back. He struggled to push himself into a sitting position, but his limbs felt completely bereft of energy, and he fell back down quickly. Opening his eyes, he blinked a couple of times before his vision focused on the sight of Albus Dumbledore above him, a concerned look in the elderly wizard's visage.

"Don't push yourself too hard, Harry," the headmaster of Hogwarts softly spoke, rising to a standing height after making sure his student was fine. Turning to Harry's opponent, who still stood some ways away and behind piles of rubble in the large room, Dumbledore's expression took on a more serious note.

"Now, for you," Dumbledore began, causing Harry's opponent to scowl. "I have mentioned this issue many times now: you are still leaking too much energy in your casting. Your raw power and skill cannot be denied, but your technique requires refinement. In addition, and perhaps more importantly, your temper needs to be reined in!" Dumbledore slightly raised his voice on the last word. "That last attack, for instance, was a perfect example. You needn't have put so much power into it, but your frustration over Harry's ability to avoid your attacks infuriated you, and you became sloppier as a result. Such elementary mistakes will not be overlooked by Voldemort, I can very well assure you of that, Miss Evelyn. They will cost you your life in a real battle."

Across the room, Tom Riddle's scowl deepened into a full-on glare, her eyes darkening at the criticism, however warranted, that Dumbledore explained. She gripped her wand tighter, her knuckles turning whit. For a moment, as Harry groggily leaned against the far wall, he thought that she would attack Dumbledore, but after a few moments of tense silence, Riddle merely huffed and strolled to the side, grabbing a towel to wipe off any sweat and taking a swig of water from a bottle.

Seeing the lack of response from his former student, Dumbledore merely sighed and turned around to face his promising current student, his expression morphing back into that of the grandfatherly smile that Harry was so used to seeing on his face.

"You did well today, Harry. I am proud of your improvements over just the past few weeks." Dumbledore gestured around. "Of course, this… 'Room of Requirement' is more than helpful. Another secret of the castle, and such a useful one, at that." Harry nodded, tired from the practice duel and those that had come earlier, and was content to just sit amidst the now-fading rubble as the Room of Requirement changed from the façade of a war-torn Ministry hall to a relatively cozier locker room, complete with showers on the side, lockers, benches to sit on, and sofas to lounge in.

The boy-who-lived thought over the duel that just transpired, as well as the many that had preceded it in the weeks before. He could feel himself improving – that was a given when training against a formidable opponent like Tom Riddle. Or Evelyn, as she was now known. A needed precaution against any unwanted eavesdropping ears. Of course, there were none in the Room of Requirements, but the last thing they wanted was an accidental slip-up outside. Practice made perfect, and in this case, he wanted to practice remembering Riddle as Evelyn before he messed up.

At any rate, he could feel his strength – physical, mental, and magical – improving over the course of the summer. Between the calisthenics he performed every morning, Occlumency training with Snape, and magical training with Dumbledore and Riddle, his skill as a wizard was steadily increasing, and he could feel a smile creep onto his face as he realized that he was only getting closer to standing toe-to-toe against Voldemort's Death Eaters and even Voldemort herself.

"Wipe that smile off your face, Potter," Riddle snarled as she came around the corner of the wall that separated the showers from the couches and dueling arena, a towel still draped around her wet hair.

"I'd rather not," Harry replied sarcastically, taking another swig of his water bottle. "Today's a good day."

"Every day's a good day for you," she bit back. "What makes today special?"

"I think I'm improving now. I'm finally starting to get to the point where I can take on at least some of the lower level Death Eaters." He looked up at the ceiling, which had sensed Harry's mood and transformed itself into the sky, much like that of the Great Hall's. "It's nice, knowing that you have some power and to not solely rely on others."

Riddle's sharp laughter, largely devoid of genuine humor, rang out. "You think you're ready to take on actual dark wizards? None of them worth their salt would lose to a schoolboy like you."

Now it as Harry's turn to laugh in earnest, with Riddle looking at him strangely. After he finally quieted down, he spoke.

"I guess that Voldemort's Death Eaters are said excuses for dark wizards then, considering that his inner circle got outwitted by a group of schoolchildren."

The look of sheer surprise on Riddle's face was worth more than gold to Harry.

"What," she whispered, too surprised to form it into a question. "Are you telling me that Voldemort's handpicked, her finest, would lose against someone like you?"

"Embarrassed themselves thoroughly, I guarantee you," the incoming sixth-year affirmed, drying his sweat with a towel. "I'm surprised that Voldemort couldn't find better help."

Riddle fell quiet at the idea that her – or any version of her – forces could be bested by mere Hogwarts students, and took a seat on sofa that Harry was lounging on. To Harry's annoyance, the Room had apparently decided on its own that the sofa was now a loveseat, and he found himself and Riddle too close for comfort.

Harry felt his cheeks burn as he saw the still slightly wet Riddle in thought beside him. Her damp, black hair seemingly shined in the candlelight – though why the candlelight had changed from the more robust lighting they had earlier, as well as dimmed slightly, was beyond Harry – as she had her towel draped around her neck. Her clothing didn't help – revealing shorts and a short top that was loose and small… for the first time ever, Harry cursed the fact that he was sitting beside a pretty girl while going through puberty. Being attracted to teenaged Voldemort was not high on his priority list.

"Enjoying yourself, Harry?" Dumbledore's voice came from beside him. With a start, he turned to see his headmaster standing beside the sofa, his hands clasped behind him and a smile on his face.

"I'm alright, professor," Harry quickly said, standing up. "I'll be going now." Trying his hardest not to blush from embarrassment, the boy walked past the older wizard and out of the Room of Requirement. Riddle, for her part, narrowed her eyes at Dumbledore before standing up herself and leaving the Room without a word. After they both left, the Room reverted back to its previous form, that of a utilitarian training facility.

Dumbledore smiled. Harry certainly hadn't known while Tom had only suspected. He could barely contain his humor when he had ordered the Room to change form to bring the two closer together. It was a nice callback to his own school days, which were more mischievous than many would expect from the respected wizard. After all, even an old man had to get his kicks in when he could.

September 1st, 1996

Harry sat in his compartment, leaning against the window as he saw the dark backgrounds slip away with the movement of the Hogwarts Express. He had just returned from the "Slug Club", as it was known, and had dressed into his robes to prepare for the arrival of the train to Hogsmeade Station.

He knew that one of the key factors regarding Slughorn's return to Hogwarts was the potential for inducting himself, the "Chosen One" as the Daily Prophet put it, into the Slug Club. Harry had disliked the idea of using that moniker, but knew that it was necessary to bring the old professor back. To that end, Harry acquiesced, attending the Slug Club meeting that Slughorn had organized for those onboard the Hogwarts Express. He had been somewhat surprised that Malfoy was not there, but considering the well-publicized arrest of his father before the summer, it was not that unexpected. It would hardly do for a well-connected professor such as Slughorn to be seen associating himself with the children of Death Eaters.

As the train slowed, Harry stood up, gathering his things before following Ron and Hermione out of the compartment. Both of his friends noticed Harry's unusual silence throughout the ride to Hogwarts, but let him be – they knew the stress and pressure Harry was now under, considering he had told them about the prophecy and the weight it placed on his life almost immediately after he had learned about it.

The Great Hall had its customary brilliance, the Sorting Hat sung its new sorting song, Dumbledore gave the regular eccentric words, the feast was its usual sumptuous affair, and the school song was its expected cacophony of ear-splitting sounds. To Harry, the only difference was the arrival of a note, via a fifth-year female Ravenclaw prefect, from none other than Dumbledore himself, asking him to meet in the headmaster's office after the feast. The note was also charmed to only give Harry the password to Dumbledore's office, which in this case was Toffee. Harry sincerely wondered about the state of the elderly man's teeth considering his discovery of the delectable but sticky treat.

"I'll catch you two later," Harry whispered to Ron and Hermione as students began standing up. "Dumbledore wants to see me." The two Gryffindor nodded, and Harry slipped away from the large crowd to the gargoyle statue that he knew guarded the headmaster's office.

"Toffee," Harry intoned, and the gargoyle sighed but moved himself out of the way, revealing a spiraling staircase that Harry was now quite familiar with. Taking the steps two at a time, Harry soon found himself in front of the great wooden door that led into the office proper. He knocked twice.

"Come in," Dumbledore's voice came from behind the door, prompting Harry to slowly push open the large wooden door.

Dumbledore's office was still the usual mix between grandness, with its vaulted ceilings and intricate design, and strangeness, with the usual assortment of odd dials and devices that whirred in every nook and cranny of the room. There were two key differences, however, to the normal appearance of Dumbledore's office. The first was the scowling Tom Riddle – also known as Evelyn if she were to be seen by a student – standing behind the seated Dumbledore, which was unusual, if not wholly unexpected. The second was Harry's brightly smiling godfather.

"Harry!" Sirius Black exclaimed, enveloping his beloved godson in a voluminous hug. "Glad to finally see you after so long."

"Sirius," Harry breathed, a smile creeping onto the schoolboy's face. "It's been so long. Where've you been?"

Sirius' smile faded just a bit. "Ah, well, some Order business. Dumbledore will explain."

"Indeed I will," Dumbledore warmly said, before gesturing for Harry to sit. "Lemon drop?" Harry politely denied, citing a full belly from the delicious feast, while Dumbledore simply smiled and shrugged before popping in a candy into his mouth.

"Now," the headmaster continued, "onto why you are here. I'm sure you are delighted to see Sirius again, and I'm glad to say that you will continue to see him over the year – he will be taking part in your physical training during the school year when I am unable to lead. Of course, Miss Evelyn," Dumbledore pointed to Riddle, "will be joining you, and Sirius will be focusing mainly on developing your magical capabilities and your joint teamwork with Tom."

Sirius placed a hand on Harry's left shoulder. "Looks like you'll be seeing a lot more of me from now on, pup. Better get used to it." Harry smiled and nodded.

"Now onto why you've not seen Sirius since the night at the Ministry," Dumbledore continued, his voice lowering and darkening. "I had sent him overseas. There has been word of Voldemort's recruitment drive on the continent, and I wanted to map the extent of the recruitment. Sirius is uniquely suited to this task given his dark reputation and his animagus abilities. Sirius?" Dumbledore prompted.

"Ah, right," Sirius nodded. The man's expression also darkened. "The situation is bad. Voldemort has been seeding his forces into central and Eastern Europe, destabilizing the local governments to take control of criminal elements. He's rounding up as many dark wizards and witches as he can, amassing an army that will one day be able to land on Britain and take the Ministry by force. There's also rumors he's making overtures to the giants, vampires, and werewolves, but I don't know much about those. Maybe Hagrid and Remus know more."

"How large is this army?" Harry questioned

Dumbledore sighed. "If Sirius estimated correctly, it numbers in the dozens of wands. That would overwhelm the Order and put even more stress on the Aurors and Hit Wizards. Budgetary constraints have sapped the Auror Office's strength since the end of the first war, and while things have turned around this year, we have little time to train new Aurors quickly enough for war. Even though this army isn't large enough to take the Ministry, it is still large enough cause chaos around Britain, diverting the Ministry's attention from more important matters."

"What can we do it, sir?" Harry asked. "I want to do my part."

Dumbledore chuckled quietly. "We will fight the good fight, my boy. You, on the other hand, will continue your training and studies until you are ready. Ah ah," Dumbledore said as he saw Harry begin to protest, "this is not negotiable. We have people in place – trained, experienced adults with full understanding of what they committing to – that can handle the coming storm." The headmaster looked Harry directly in the eyes. "Never forget that you are the key to ultimate victory over Voldemort. This is all to buy you time to grow in strength until you are one day ready to take to the field and vanquish Voldemort once and for all."

Harry nodded, his expression solemn from the weight placed on his shoulders. One of them would have to fall for the other to live. It was either him or Voldemort.

"Now, while you will be training with Sirius and Tom," Dumbledore continued, changing the topic, "I will also be training you, albeit in a different fashion. I will call upon you to study Voldemort's past, her strategy, and her battle tactics all in an effort to build an image of who Voldemort is. Once you understand every facet of her, you will be able to see through her and counter her moves before she even makes them. This is as important, if not more so, as evenly matching her in combat."

Harry nodded again, fascinated by the idea of studying who Voldemort was as a person and how to counter her before even coming into battle.

"Tom will also be joining us for those sessions, for obvious reasons." Dumbledore looked at a pocket watch. "The hour grows late. I believe it is time to be off to bed with you, Harry."

"Thank you, professor," Harry said, before retreating out of the office. He was excited by the idea of seeing Sirius weekly, especially to train, and even more excited by the prospect of examining Voldemort herself. She was, both as Voldemort and Tom Riddle, an enigma to him, and he wanted to find out why Riddle was the way she was and how she became Voldemort.

He absentmindedly wandered into the Gryffindor tower, climbing into his comfortable four-post bed. His roommates were already snoring, peacefully asleep, and Harry soon found his own vision turning dark, unconsciously smiling as the graceful grasp of Morpheus took over.

"I believe it is time for us to be heading to bed as well," Dumbledore exclaimed after the office door closed behind Harry. "Sirius, you will be staying in the Room of Requirement – I trust you remember the way there?"

The animagus nodded, pulling out an invisibility cloak. While not as high quality or protective as the one that had been passed down to Harry, it was nonetheless effective in hiding Sirius from plain sight.

"Of course, professor," Sirius replied. He shook his head with a sigh. "I still can't believe we never found something like the Room of Requirement in our school days, and Harry did." Slipping on the cloak so that only his head was visible, Sirius opened the office door and turned back to face Dumbledore. "He really is a Marauder." Sirius closed the door behind him as he slipped out of the office.

"Tom?" Dumbledore prompted. Riddle scowled at the sound of her name but acquiesced to Dumbledore's implied command. After muttering the password ("Haven"), she slipped through the portrait and was gone.

Dumbledore leaned back in his comfortable chair, knowing he was truly alone now. The portrait prevented Tom from knowing what was going on in the office proper, and Sirius was long gone.

The information Sirius had brought back was concerning. There were criminal elements in Europe that Dumbledore preferred stayed far away from his home, but he knew that if they came to Britain's shores, there would be all but open war. The Order of the Phoenix could only do so much, considering it had originally been and largely still was built mainly as an intelligence gathering unit. This was the kind of pertinent information he needed to pass on to Amelia Bones. She needed to be able to know what kind of threat they were facing and how to deploy the few forces she had at her disposal.

On Harry, Dumbledore was more confident. The boy was growing rapidly, showing vast improvement in his magical skills over the past year. His maturity had also grown, as did his thirst for knowledge and strength. The last part was a continuous concern to Dumbledore – after all, Voldemort had started with similar ambitions – but he was confident that Harry's strong heart, as well as his friends, would keep him on the right path.

And there was Tom Riddle to consider. She had transformed considerably since her return in the Chamber of Secrets, whether she knew it or not. Dumbledore knew his theory that Ginny had imprinted herself on Riddle was becoming more likely. Tom Riddle was not exactly like the student Dumbledore remembered – that one was even colder and crueler. This one had an openness, a softness, a vulnerable side that the original Tom Riddle never possessed during her time at Hogwarts. Only time would tell where that would lead.

Still, she changed all of Dumbledore's equations, and possibly for the better. If his hunch was correct, Harry need not face Voldemort alone.

The elderly headmaster yawned, and he looked at his pocket watch before realizing with a start how late it had gotten as he became wrapped up in his thoughts. He immediately extinguished the lights in his office and headed to bed. After all, an old man had to get his beauty sleep when he could.