The next day brought a cold icy start to November, which brought with it an equally icy silence. The foursome had avoided talking to each other since the night before. Elixa still had a constant traumatised expression, while Ebony could be found trying to rub her friends back in comfort, while taking an occasional glare at Tom. The girls had not got close enough to see what had been etched upon the table, perhaps if they had they would have realised that Tom was just as traumatised as them, though he would never admit it.

Tom had not spoken all the way through breakfast, first or second period. He had instead a blank rigid expression. He and Harry were now walking side by side towards the Great Hall for lunch. Harry breathed in a large lung full of air before deciding to breach the conversation, but before he could Malfoy shoulder barged into him, making him wince.

"Oh look who it is… where were you two last night? You weren't joining in the festivities with us all?" His tone changed slightly as he looked towards Tom. "We missed you there,"

"I doubt that. We did not attend your 'frivolities' as we cannot think of a way to spend our time that we would dislike more." Riddle spat rudely.

"I'm sorry to hear that Riddle," Malfoy replied stonily, before pushing past them with his devoted lap dogs. Harry clenched his jaw. Whatever fears Tom had instilled in Malfoy it must have begun to wear off. He dreaded to think how Tom may choose to remind him…

Though it did not appear that Tom seemed concerned with Malfoy for the moment, he seemed in deeper thought. Once sitting in their usual seats at the Slytherin table Harry decided it was time to attempt to begin the conversation again.

"What really happened last night?" Harry whispered. Tom froze, his sandwich held raised between his plate and his mouth. He lowered it slowly back to his plate.

"I don't know." He replied, avoiding looking Harry in the face.

"You really didn't do the candles, the banging, the door or… the table?" Harry hesitantly asked.

"No." Tom coldly replied.

"I didn't think so… I had to ask. Who do you think did?" Harry had reduced his voice to less than a whisper.

"I don't know." Tom responded. He had now subconsciously squeezed his sandwich into a doughy ball.

"The word… it said… Son…" Harry continued, trying to be highly sensitive.

"I can read." Tom spat.

"Well…"

"I don't know!" Tom suddenly shouted, standing abruptly and storming out of the Great Hall his cloak billowing behind him.

Too far… Harry bit his lip in regret. Tom was afraid. He had never come across an afraid Tom, but it was un-nerving to say the least. He had a feeling that an afraid Tom was a dangerous one.

Harry did not see Tom until their last class of the day, Defence of the Dark Arts.

"I'm sorry about at lunch," Harry whispered to Tom as they took their seats. Tom's jaw clenched characteristically. Harry smiled as he held out a wrapped un-squashed sandwich towards Tom, that he had sneaked out from the Great Hall. The light hearted gesture saw the sides of Tom's mouth twitch upwards as he took the sandwich. It was short lived as his face returned to its previously unsettled stern expression.

"Settle down!" Professor Merrythought bellowed from the top of the stair case leading to her office. Tom waved his wand and made the sandwich disappear, before Merrythought reached the bottom of the staircase and took her usual position in front of her desk.

Harry rubbed his eyes; they were stinging as sleep was calling to them. Sitting slumped in one of the green leather armchairs next to the fire in the common room, he must have fallen asleep. He looked around himself he was completely alone, Tom was not there. He had defiantly been sat opposite him previously, reading his potions book. But how long ago was that? He didn't know. He looked towards the large clock mounted above the entrance, eleven thirty five pm. Surely Tom had just retired to bed and not bothered to wake him, Harry grumbled bitterly. Before standing, stretching and making his way to his dormitory.

Harry froze. He looked over to Tom's bed to see it made and completely untouched. Dam it! Where was he now!? Harry's stomach churned. Where was his invisibility cloak when he needed it and the marauders map. He wondered how he had coped without them.

Harry found himself trying to sneak in the shadows of the corridors, stopping every few seconds to ensure he was not going to be detected. There was only two places he could see Tom being, the library (though he didn't know how we would get in at this hour of the night) or the abandoned classroom…

Harry decided that the abandoned classroom held the most promise, as much as he really had no desire to return to that room anytime soon. As he reached the door he placed a hand on the cold door knob, turning it he pushed the door open just enough for him to slip through silently.

There were a few candles lit in the middle of the room which enlightened a small cloaked figure crouched upon the floor in front of an upturned table. Harry breathed a sigh of relief; at least he had found him. He walked slowly towards the figure before he stopped. He thought it would be best to announce his presence rather than creep up on Riddle.

"Riddle it's me," Harry whispered. The figure flung itself around, temporary panic on their face, which soon dissolved into an expressionless mask.

"What are you doing here? Why have you come looking for me?" He hissed.

"Well I wanted to check you was ok," Harry replied which was not strictly a lie.

"You wanted to make sure I wasn't causing any trouble." Riddle corrected, bitterness in his voice. Harry had to admit that was also not a lie.

"Well I guess," Harry admitted. "What are you doing? It was foolish to come back here alone?"

"I'm not afraid." Tom spat. "I needed to take a closer look. I had been reading about a potion that can detect magic and where or who it has come from," Riddle replied, still running his thin fingers over the engraved letters. Harry knelt down beside him and waited for him to continue.

"So I managed to brew some in here, luckily the potion only takes a few hours from start to completion. I was just about to test it." He continued. Harry's eye widened.

"You have managed to brew that potion in here? Tonight?" Harry was impressed and un-nerved by just how great an eleven year old Tom Riddle really was.

"Yes." Tom replied focused on collecting a vile of the potion from the cauldron beside him.

"How did you…" Harry trailed off, he already knew the answer. He had been guilty himself. Granted only in his later years at Hogwarts but Hermione had been hot on his heels with her secret potion brewing in second year. He felt a sudden pang in his chest at the memory of Hermione. But he was brought back to reality but Tom's reply,

"What? Come upon the required ingredients? I took them from Slughorn's store of course. Right under his nose. It isn't hard, the man's a fool." Tom spoke the last words with true disgust. Harry flinched, he disliked how full of hate Tom sounded, even now at such a young age.

Tom sprinkled some of the potion onto the engraving. It glowed orange for a few seconds before fading. The same orange glow began to form letters that arranged into a word suspended in mid-air.

'Inconclusive,'

Tom grunted loudly and ran a hand through his messy black hair. Harry felt a cold shiver run right through him. Inconclusive in his mind could only represent one thing… he wondered if Tom thought the same…

"Do you think…" Harry began,

"What that is was a spirit that did it?" Tom finished,

"Well yes…" Harry replied, feeling a little sheepish. Tom however, did not reply.

"Do you think it was mine or yours? Do you think they meant well?" Harry asked tentatively.

"Yours?" Riddle responded with a raised eyebrow, "I thought yours were alive?"

"I don't know do I… they might not be now." Harry knew it couldn't be his, of course he knew. But he had to make it appear convincing to Riddle. He also didn't want to straight out suggest that it was Tom's mother. For one Riddle didn't even know yet that his Father was alive, for all he knew it could be him or his mother.

"I don't think we are going to find out unless we coax them here again," Tom trailed off quietly. Harry's eyebrows shot up beyond his hair line, he grabbed hold of Tom's arms and dragged him around to face him.

"No. Absolutely not. Promise me Tom. I mean it. Leave it. It won't bring anyone back, it won't do any good. You can't converse with the dead Tom. It could be a trap, a trick." Harry's voice was firm, as he stared into Tom's unreadable grey eyes.

Tom's face was stony. To Harry's surprise Tom did not snatch his arms back or shout and hiss as he expected him to. Instead he stayed very still, staring back into Harry's own green eyes, as if he was searching for something. He must have found what he was looking for as he replied,

"I promise."

Harry nearly keeled over. Did Tom Riddle just promise him? No argument? No aggression? Harry let go of Riddle's arms.

"Thank you." Harry replied shakily. "Now please come on, it's time to go to bed." He stood up and Tom followed suit. Harry walked towards the door, once he reached it he turned around to see that Tom had followed him across the room but had stopped to take one last glance at the table behind him.

Harry had reason not to trust Tom's promise but something inside him told him that it was genuine… for now at least.