I wonder, Tom, if you ever saw the world as something worth saving. Not conquering, not controlling, but saving. I don't think so. You always thought in terms of battles, of defeats and victories. But there was a time I believed in it, I believed that it could be better, that it could be made better: this belief is gone now, of course; you probably carried it away with you and never noticed it. For you, it was just something else that I didn't need.

_________

Keira Gray walked briskly through the stone corridors of Hogwarts, the heels of her well-polished black shoes tapping against the cold floor of the castle. The castle was alive with the usual Monday morning chaos of students in a hurry to get to their classes in time, the odd yelps from a few misplaced spells and the sight of a couple of young people who were hopelessly lost. There was a familiar clamour in the castle, a clamour that she had almost missed – almost.

Her first lesson, Potions, a favourite for some; but for her, it is a matter which requires attention, precision, and above all, putting up with other people. Not ideal, especially today. She had not walked halfway to the dungeons, when her mind was again thinking about the strange beginning of her morning.

She had arrived at Hogwarts before dawn, a decision on someone's part — Slughorn's, probably — to avoid a fuss, as if it would not have been impossible to avoid a fuss. The castle had been eerily quiet, except for the early stirrings of house-elves preparing breakfast in the Great Hall, and she had not made it as far as the Slytherin common room before being summoned to the headmaster's office. Wonderful.

The office was exactly as she remembered it, grandiose and cluttered with strange and enchanted trinkets. Headmaster Dippet was there, and Slughorn as well, who seemed to have taken her return as a personal victory, and who was beaming with the kind of unearned pride which instantly made her suspicious. But it was a third figure in the room which troubled her. Dumbledore was there; his presence was unexpected, though she should not have been surprised to find him dissecting her every move.

Dumbledore was always suspicious of Tom Riddle; that Keira knew, she'd seen him keeping his sharp blue eyes on him during meals and in the corridors, but lately, especially since the incident last year, when a student had been killed, she'd noticed his attention turning toward her, though not with the intensity as with Tom. It was not exactly suspicion, it was more a quiet watchfulness, which made her feel as if he was waiting for her to reveal something, anything.

"Come sit down, Miss Gray," said Dippet, inviting her, "it's good to see you back, and how are you?"

"I'm fine, Headmaster," Keira replied evenly, keeping her expression impassive. She'd learned long ago that offering too much was dangerous.

"Splendid! Splendid!" Slughorn interjected, "You gave us quite a scare, but it's good to see you well. If there's anything you need, anything at all, let me know. Our head boy, Tom Riddle, will be more than happy to help you in catching up. He's been an absolute star this term."

Keira fought to keep a smile on her face, as the idea of Riddle helping her was at once hilarious and insulting, "I'll manage", her tone was harsh but pleasantly enough voiced to go unnoted.

Dumbledore, who until then had not said a word, moved forward "We're all relieved to see you recovered, Miss Gray," he began, his voice smooth and ringing, but distinctly lacking in the kindly warmth of the other, "I trust your time away has given you... perspective."

Keira's jaw became tight, but she did not let her irritation show. Perspective. Of course he would frame it that way. He was fishing, testing the waters, to see what she might tell him."It's given me plenty of time to think," she replied neutrally, meeting his gaze with her own.

The exchange stopped there; but Dumbledore's gaze kept haunting her, as though he could feel in his mind the weight of her secrets, although he did not yet know the facts.

As she left the study, her mind already buzzed with calculations and strategies. Her deal with Grindelwald loomed large, and the knowledge that Dumbledore would be watching her every move only complicated the situation.

-

Keira drove the memory out of her consciousness as she walked down to the dungeon.

She was one of the last to arrive, and quietly slipped into the back of the room where the usual commotion and loudness was beginning. Slughorn was already in the classroom when she arrived, and his red face lit up as he saw her: "Miss Gray, it's so good to have you back, and the same goes for you Mr Ponty, welcome!"

Keira's gaze strayed to the Gryffindor table, and her eyes for a moment settled on Harry, where he sat as if he were also feeling as uncomfortable as she was. They caught each other's eyes for a second, and she registered fleetingly on the expression on his face; she had caught just a flicker of recognition. Strange.

Slughorn continued in a more solicitous tone, addressing the rest of the class, "Today, two students have been discharged from the hospital at the same time, and are returning to us: Miss Gray and Mr. Ponty, I'm sure both of you are eager to get back into the rhythm of things. Such a pleasure to see you both back."

Keira's thoughts lingered on Slughorn's words. Harry Ponty, one of the mysterious transfer students, had been in the hospital, she wasn't naive enough to think it was coincidence, but her mind worked fast, connecting fragments of information together. According to Abraxas's letter, Riddle had been focusing a great deal on them, so could he have been involved in what happened to Ponty?

"Now, since you've both returned at the same time and our groups are already formed," Slughorn continued, clapping his hands, "you'll be paired up for today's assignment, which is a difficult potion, but I'm confident you'll manage splendidly."

Keira, with a studied air of nonchalance, had slid onto a stool beside Harry and put down her bag. She had been put with one of the transfer students and she was aware that this was a particularly convenient opportunity to gather information.

Despite her calm demeanor, her eyes swept over the classroom again, cataloging every detail. Of course, she saw Tom Riddle with Hermione Greene at the other end of the classroom; that was no accident. He was watching Hermione as much as he was working, his dark eyes full of calculation, his mouth full of dissection; Hermione for her part was nervous but determined, her hands working deftly as she measured the ingredients.

Across the room, the other transfer student, Draco Milfoy, sat hunched over his cauldron, his face pale and anxious, staring nervously at Riddle. Keira made a mental note of his behaviour.

Her curiosity about Harry's hospital stay lingered, and the knowledge that Riddle might have been involved only made her more observant. She'd have to be careful with Harry; he was clearly cautious, but not cautious enough to avoid whatever it was that had landed him in the infirmary.

Harry felt rather uneasy, being paired with Keira Gray; her presence, her rumored relationship with Riddle and his inner circle; something about her felt weird and seemed to be magnetizing him in some way. Part of him was on edge, of course, wary of her sharp, cold eyes, but something deeper, deeper than that, seemed to make his stomach turn. He didn't want to admit it, but he could feel a force stirring in himself which he didn't own; an attraction to Keira that wasn't entirely his own.

From the opposite corner of the room, Tom Riddle's dark eyes flickered across them, and a sharp and calculating look rested on her for a moment. Keira noticed, but she was used to his eye and she didn't intend to let it distract her from her purpose.

Mr Slughorn's voice boomed through the dungeon, " As I told you earlier, you'll need precision and co-operation, I'm hoping you all will show your best behavior today, this is not a task for the faint-hearted!"

Keira looked at Harry, who was engrossed in the cauldron. He seemed determined to avoid meeting her gaze, but she wasn't going to let him off that easily. "Do you have much experience with potions?" she asked, her tone neutral but edged with faint curiosity.

Harry glanced for a fleeting moment at her then back to the ingredients in the bowl. "Enough," he said shortly.

"Good! I don't want a partner who leaves me all the work, I would rather waste my time." Keira smirked faintly.

"I can manage," said Harry in a cool tone of voice, he began to measure out the first ingredient, with a brief glint of the eye, returned to the cauldron, adding a fraction more carefully but much too deliberately, as if to make a point.

"We'll see," said Keira, watching him carefully; she tipped her head and continued " So, what's your story?"

Harry put his hand on some powdered stone, somewhat hesitantly. "What do you mean?"

Keira shrugged and added precisely a small pinch of asphodel. "Transfer students aren't exactly common. You and your friends have made quite the entrance. People are talking, you know."

Harry glanced at her. "People do talk a lot, you know. It doesn't mean they know anything."

Keira's lips curved into a faint smirk. "True enough, but sometimes it gets close."

Harry's brow drew slightly but he didn't rise to the bait."You're awfully curious for someone who claims not to waste time."

"I'm a Slytherin," Keira replied smoothly. "Curiosity is practically a requirement."

Harry's lips twitched, but whether it was irritation or amusement, she couldn't tell. "And what about you?" he suddenly asked, "What's your story?"

Keira raised an eyebrow, her tone dry. "Oh, my story's far less dramatic, I'm sure. But if you're interested, who knows, maybe, it'll be an exchange of secrets someday."

Harry gave her a measured look. "I'll pass."

Keira smiled wryly and looked back at their potion, the talk dropping off but leaving a barely perceptible change in the air between them. Harry, on the other hand, could not help thinking of her behavior, of the reckless confidence and immutability of her stare; how different it was from anyone else at Hogwarts, and that made him even more uneasy.

In his place at the back of the classroom, Tom Riddle was working methodically, stirring the potion he was making with steady movements. Hermione Greene, was working beside him, her movements as precise but still deliberate, she had grown less intimidated by him over the weeks, but she still carried a careful edge when they interacted.

"You need to chop the aconite a little more finely," Tom observed, looking at her.

"I know. " She did not look up and her tone sharper than before.

Tom raised an eyebrow, his lips curling faintly in what could have been amusement or annoyance. "Precision is important, Greene. You'd hate to ruin the potion."

"I know that," Hermione said flatly, her knife moving deftly now. She didn't meet his gaze, but she wasn't cowed either.

Her gaze wandered, just as his had, to the pair at the other table. Harry and Keira were leaning over towards each other, with a whispering conversation that could not be overheard. Her expression was almost as inscrutable as his.

Satisfied for the moment, Tom turned his attention back to the cauldron, but his thoughts strayed. He saw that Keira was leaning towards Harry, her movements very controlled; Harry, however, seemed rather tense, but somehow turned towards her, as if attracted by a flame.

"Greene, stir clockwise. Seven times." said Tom sharply, his voice breaking the silence between them.

Hermione bristled a little but complied, saying under her breath, "I would have done that without instruction, you know."

Tom didn't answer at once, Keira was confusing things, to Harry, to the classroom, and, most annoyingly of all, to him; she was playing a game, and Tom was determined to find out her angle.

Hermione gave a quick glance along his line of sight, her brows furrowed, and still said nothing, but squeezed the ladle harder in her hand. She had her own thoughts about Keira, and they were not particularly comforting, especially when she was paired off with Harry. But she was unable to voice her concerns, not yet, at least. She and Tom kept working in silence, both of them pretending to focus on the potion, while their thoughts wandered off in different directions.

Keira adjusted the flame beneath the cauldron. Her movements were precise, and when she caught him glancing at her, out of the corner of his eye, she decided to push things a little further.

"You know, most people would have avoided the trouble that sent you to the hospital," she said lightly, "you don't strike me as particularly cautious."

Harry's jaw tightened a little, but he didn't look at her. "You don't know anything about me,"

"Not yet," she said with a hint of amusement. "I am observant, and you ... you are interesting."

Harry finally met her gaze, his green eyes anxious, but as soon as he had taken a little time for himself, he turned to her. "Interesting how?"

"You don't quite fit in as well as you might think." she said, leaning back a little.

Harry didn't reply, turning his mind back to his potion, but Keira was not one to leave things unsaid, and she let a few moments of silence settle, then added, "But don't worry, I'm not one to jump to conclusions."

"Good to know," Harry said drily, although the tension in his shoulders persisted.

As the class progressed, Keira's thoughts wandered and she couldn't help seeing how Tom had worked his way through to the newcomers; he had undoubtedly worked out his own strategy, but if she and Riddle circled the same targets, then that was a problem. It was no longer a matter of information, it was a power game, and it was one that might easily have spun out of control.

And yet, as she glanced back at Harry, a flicker of curiosity shot through her. The boy was impassive but not invulnerable, and he added to this volatile situation a new layer of uncertainty and complexity. She wondered how long it would be before everything came apart.

As the lesson came to an end, Slughorn gave instructions for bottling the potion, and Keira and Harry worked in silence, their earlier conversation still resonating between them.

"Not bad," she said, her tone neutral. "For a Gryffindor."

Harry's lips twitched in what might have been a smile. "And you're not as insufferable as I expected. For a Slytherin."

Keira's lips twitched slightly, but she made no reply. She was already thinking about her next steps; whatever secrets Harry and the other incoming students were concealing, she intended to find out, one way or the other.

In the doorway, Tom Riddle still lingered, his dark eyes fixed on Keira's retreating figure, irritation simmering beneath his smug expression. He would win whatever game she was playing.

Harry too felt a sense of heaviness as he watched her disappear down the corridors, and he felt something compelling about her, something that made him both wary and curious.

Keira Gray wasn't just another Slytherin. She was a novel term in an existing, and highly unstable, equation and the potential effect of her joining the developing puzzle was one they could not yet calculate.

Three groups, three agendas, and too many secrets to navigate. This was going to be a mess.

-

Keira entered the Slytherin dormitory, the heavy door creaking under her weight, and the room was flooded by a warm, flickering glow from enchanted lanterns.

Emily Parkinson was sitting cross-legged on her bed with a quill in hand and a big book lying spread open in front of her. Walburga Black was lying on the big couch by the hearth, her dark hair tumbling over her, she was examining her fingernails with a display of little interest, while Alison Selwyn, skimmed through the Golden Spells page of Witch Weekly.

The conversation was cut short as Keira entered the room. All three heads turned toward her, a mix of curiosity and hesitation flickering across their faces.

"Keira," Walburga said, her voice as light and pleasant as one would expect, yet edged with a cutting remark. "Finally gracing us with your presence?"

Keira rolled her eyes but smirked faintly. "Missed me that much, did you?" she said while flinging her bag aside in a chair; she dropped into bed, kicking off her shoes in a burst of relief.

Alison leaned over her, her blue eyes brightened, "Well, and how does it feel to be back, after all that's happened? "

Keira hesitated, her gaze flicking briefly to the window. "Odd," she admitted. "But manageable."

Emily, with her black eyes calm and examining, looked up from her book; "It must be strange, coming back after everything. How are you feeling?"

"Fine," Keira replied curtly, though her voice softened slightly. "It's just... a lot to adjust to again."

There was a moment of silence before Alison cleared her throat "Slughorn has been going around, telling everyone how glad he is that you're back. He is insupportable."

Keira nodded "He gave me his usual speech about how he's always here if I need anything." Her lips twitched into a sardonic smile. "Comforting."

Walburga snorted. "He's been insufferable about your absence. You're lucky you missed the first few weeks of his endless ramblings."

She laughed, but her mind was elsewhere. She could feel their unconcealed curiosity; clearly they still stood on the sidelines, unsure how to broach the subject about which everyone was circling around her since her return, not only about her absence, but also about the summer, about what had happened between her and Tom. Keira had not wanted to talk about it herself and it had only deepened the mistrust others felt; No one dared to ask outright and there was a thick atmosphere slowly forming around them. She decided to spare them the awkward build-up.

"So" Keira said, "who are these transfer students? I have heard about them all day."

Walburga heaved a groan as she dropped her head on the back of the sofa and muttered: "Do not get me started on them; If I have to hear Tom go on about them one more time, I swear I'll lose my mind."

"It's all he talks about lately," Alison said, flipping through a magazine with a bored flick. "The transfer students this, the transfer students that. It's exhausting."

"What's the matter with them?" Keira asked, raising an eyebrow.

Emily sighed, setting her quill down. "Well, Greene, the girl, is exceptionally gifted, dreadfully so. She always has an answer, knows everything; it's almost... absurd: it seems as if she'd memorized the whole library."

"And Ponty?" Keira asked, leaning back slightly, feigning nonchalance.

Alison's lips twitched. "He's... fine, I suppose. As he spent most of his time in the hospital following Rosier's petty incident, he has made little progress. Pretty unremarkable, really."

Walburga snorted, crossing her legs. "Actually I find Rosier's curse the most interesting part about him. He's just there. Well, not much else to add but, Tom keeps on telling us there's something about him."

Keira twisted her lips at the exasperated tone, but she said nothing.

"And Milfoy?"

Alison sneered: "He is like a stray cat that was brought to the wrong house, he's completely out of his depth."

Walburga laughed even harder: "He's such a show, quiet as a ghost, afraid of every shadow, always looks like he's