Summary: It's not every day that someone discovers a new corridor in Hogwarts. When Harry does, he lets his curiosity get the best of him winds up in a lot of trouble, not to mention another time. Can he survive attending Hogwarts in the year 1942 with a sixteen-year-old Tom Riddle? And how will this encounter change the fates of both boys? HP/TR SLASH

Disclaimer: Sadly enough, I do not own Harry Potter or anything even remotely affiliated with it.

A/N: Information about Harry's roommates is at the end of the chapter in the author's notes.

CHAPTER SIX: KEEP YOUR FRIENDS CLOSE

--(A/N: This chapter is from Tom's point of view.)--

Despite myself, I'm glad that it's Friday. Not that I particularly enjoy divination or history of magic, although potions isn't bad and can sometimes be quite entertaining considering the majority of the Gryffindors' and Hufflepuffs' ineptitude for the subject. Truly, though, while I have a certain thirst for knowledge, classes have become rather trivial for me. I have already mastered the seventh year material, let alone the sixth, so the whole point of going to class has become mute besides the obvious importance of keeping up appearances. No reason for me to go needlessly drawing attention to myself, now is there?

Mostly, I am thankful it's Friday because that means I have the whole weekend free to read Slytherin's diary and try to figure out where the Chamber of Secrets is and how to enter it. Surely the diary contains the information I need; now it's just a matter of reading through the book to find it. Years of research and reading have lead me to this point; only a few more days and all of my hard work will reach the climax I have been awaiting. I can be patient until then. After all, what's a few more days?

Pushing such thoughts to the back of my mind for the time being, I go mechanically about my daily routine. Grabbing my shower stuff and a fresh uniform and robe, I head toward the shared bathroom, glad that none of the other boys are up yet and I won't have to deal with waiting in line to shower.

The hot water feels like heaven as it eases my quidditch induced aches and pains. With the whole fiasco surrounding that new Jameson kid, I didn't have a chance to shower after practice yesterday. Thinking of Jameson, there's something…off about him. In fact, I highly doubt Evan Jameson is even his real name. No one hesitates that much when giving their own name. And it was obvious that he lied about having an appointment with Dumbledore. The old coot may be absentminded, but there's no way he'd forget about having a meeting with a student. And then there was Jameson's reaction to me. It was as if he recognized me from somewhere; and he didn't seem to be too pleased by that fact. Odd, considering that he didn't seem familiar to me.

I came to the obvious conclusion that he would have to be kept a close eye on as I finished rinsing and turned off the shower. After drying myself and getting dressed, I headed back into the shared bedroom, taking note that Jameson was now awake and appeared to be gathering his own shower stuff together. I watched him from the corner of my eye as I went about putting my stuff back in the proper places. Listening intently, I heard him mutter a complicated locking charm combined with a voice recognition spell after closing his trunk. This was at least seventh year material, adding to my curiosity and wariness concerning the enigma that was 'Evan Jameson.'

"Morning," Jameson broke into my thoughts as he greeted me on his way toward the bathroom. I nodded in return, wondering at Jameson's agenda in seemingly trying to befriend me. If he was a true Slytherin, as appeared to be the case, then he would definitely have some sort of agenda. But that's okay with me, because I have an agenda too. As the saying goes: Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Evan Jameson isn't necessarily an enemy…yet, but he definitely isn't a friend. Not that Slytherins ever really befriend each other. It is more along the lines of forming alliances.

Slytherins, unlike the other houses, have a realistic view of human nature and the way the world works. Especially considering the fact that we're in the middle of a war. You never can be too careful in times like this. Never know who's going to end up on which side. 'Friendship' isn't worth sacrificing your life for.

Shaking my head in an attempt to clear it of such morbid thoughts this early in the morning, I turn as I hear the rustle of bed curtains off to my left. It would seem that Black has finally decided to get up. I watch as he stretches, smirking at him as I take note of his mussed up hair sticking up at odd angles. Catching my smirk, he sends a glare my way, not bothering to say anything as he stalks to the end of his bed and begins rummaging through his trunk for his toiletries.

Checking the time on the prank-proof magical clock sitting on my nightstand, I note that it's only 7:15. With a full thirty minutes until the group will be ready to head down to breakfast, I decide that I might as well get in some reading since I'm pretty much ready to go. Thankfully, I charmed Slytherin's diary to appear to be my potions text, so I don't have to worry about anyone becoming suspicious or nosy.

Lounging on my bed with the curtains open, I carefully read through the first entry in the diary as Lestrange, Malfoy, Crouch, and Helsengar all begin to get out of bed and ready for the day. I absently note Jameson entering the room again, fully dressed and with wet hair plastered to the side of his face, as Arcane makes a mad dash for the bathroom in order to claim the shower, the rest of the group rushing after him and cursing loudly. I let out a soft snort as I hear a mild crash sound from the bathroom and wonder if Black once again managed to slip on the tiled surface.

I disregard my reading for the moment as I opt instead to watch Jameson once again. I watch as he opens his trunk and puts his stuff away, drawing out a messenger bag and setting it aside before turning his attention back to the contents of his trunk. He sifts through the stuff in there for a minute, seeming to analyze what the trunk contains. It's almost as if he hasn't really had a chance to look at the contents yet. I find this odd, another thing to add to my growing list of things that seem to be strange about Jameson.

Deciding to be abnormally social and try to get closer to Jameson, if only for strategic purposes, I put my book into my book bag and sit up on my bed. "So, what classes are you signed up for today?" I question, noting Jameson's surprise at the fact that I'm talking to him.

"Potions, Divination, and History of Magic," he answers concisely, shutting and locking his trunk. Picking his bag up, he sets it atop his bed before sitting down beside it, facing me.

"Looks like you're stuck with me all day then," I inform him, giving him a half-smile, partially jesting and partially smirking at the fact that he's probably not too happy with this fact.

His face is blank as he merely stares back at me. "You take Divination?" he questions, seeming surprised by the fact, though he tries not to let it show.

Studying him, I ponder whether or not to tell him why I'm taking the class. Figuring that it can't hurt, and that it might even earn me a little of his trust, I decide to just go ahead and let him in on the fact. "Most of it may be a load of bull, but having some idea of what the future may hold has its benefits. It may only be about ten percent accurate, but that ten percent is better than nothing at all," I reveal seriously, gazing at him to gauge his reaction to my explanation.

He seems to ponder my words for a moment, digesting them, before nodding his head in an agreeing manner. "Divination can be useful if the information is accurate," he concedes, "though I don't like the idea that I'm not in control of my own fate," he finishes earnestly, seeming somewhat lost in his thoughts as he stares off at nothing in particular. Focusing on me once again, he appears surprised that the fact that he revealed what apparently was supposed to be a private matter to me.

I can't help but be even more intrigued by this. I find that I agree with him on his assessment, but I can't help but wonder at how easily he revealed this piece of information. He doesn't seem to be quite as guarded as I at first assumed, though perhaps it was just a moment of weakness and nothing more.

Before I can form some sort of reply, I hear Cane and Lafayette enter from the direction of the bathroom arguing loudly with each other. "I told you that my sister is off limits, Black!" Lestrange yelled angrily at the other boy, glaring harshly as Arcane had the audacity to smirk triumphantly at him.

"Hey, it's not my fault that I'm just so damn appealing that the ladies, including your sister, just can't keep their hands off me," Cane announced arrogantly, narrowly dodging a hex aimed his way by a furious Lafayette.

I rolled my eyes at the all too typical display, laughing lightly as I notice a look of concern on Jameson's face. "Don't worry, they do this all the time," I tell him lightly before turning back towards my two fighting dorm mates. Pointing to the taller, almost black haired boy, I introduce him to Jameson. "This is Arcane Black. He goes by Cane most of the time, though," I announce, shaking my head as Cane bows dramatically with an extra flourish. Gesturing to the slightly shorter boy next to him with light brown hair, I introduce him as well. "And this is Lafayette Lestrange." Lafayette nods his head in Jameson's direction by way of greeting.

Jameson nods in return and gives Black an amused smile. "I'm sure you already know who I am from the announcement last night, but I'm Evan Jameson. You can just call me Evan," Evan announces, friendlily enough.

The door bursting open loudly and a sudden commotion signal that the other boys are done in the bathroom. They're all dressed and ready, finally. Turning toward the clock, I note that it's only 7:40. For once, they're early. Taking it upon myself once more to do the introductions, I point out a tall platinum blonde. "That's Mercutio Malfoy. Just call him Mercury, everybody does. Next to him is Mortimer Crouch. And on the end is Seiferous Helsengar. He goes by Seifer," I finish. I watch as Mercury sizes Evan up before nodding sedately. Mortimer gives a standard 'Hello,' by way of greeting, and Seifer smirks and nods arrogantly, in his usual manner.

"Hey. Evan Jameson. You can call me Evan," Evan announces again, looking the group over and seeming to analyze them. As a Slytherin, I wouldn't expect anything less than that. I can't help but wonder what he makes of them. And of me, for that matter. Not that it really makes a difference. Or, at least, that's what I try to tell myself. For some reason, though, I actually care about Evan's opinion. And I don't even want to begin to analyze the reason why.

TO BE CONTINUED…

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank you so much for reading and reviewing this fic! I'm glad that people seem to be enjoying it; it's been fun to write. I'm sorry that it has taken me soooooo long to update. I don't really have an excuse except for a combination of writer's block, being busy, laziness, and working on other fics. I'm not discontinuing the fic, though updates will probably take a long time. Sorry!

Harry's (Evan's) Roommates:
- Tom Riddle (duh)
- Lafayette Lestrange
- Arcane (Cane) Black
- Mercutio (Mercury) Malfoy
- Mortimer Crouch
- Seiferous (Seifer) Helsengar