A/N: Hey! So this chapter will still be in the past but it'll be the last one for a while. Most of the chapters from now on will be set in the present (in HBP). Sorry I couldn't get this out before but I got caught up in revising and work and college and blarrrg. P.s. I'm blown away by the amount of follows, thank you for your patience!

Text

"Speaking"

Thoughts

Parseltongue

Enjoy!

"Oh, the cleverness of me!"

Chapter 4: Cleverness

Everywhere. He's everywhere. His voice echoes in the halls and his warmth lingers but he's gone. Tom knows this. It doesn't mean that he accepts it though. His headache pounds continuously in the back of his mind, he can't think with it there, always there.

Harrison Porter is dead. Tom bites his lip and enters the library. Rows of books on all things magic are stacked against the walls, the smell of dust hits him immediately, and there are a few students throughout the wide room at the scattered desks. He doesn't lower his head. Tom walks in calmly and continues through the aisles. He passes transfiguration, potions, and heads for the books at the back.

Tm coughs dust from his lungs as he lifts the ancient tome from one of the upper shelves. Memory and the mind: charms and tricks. He smiles and opens the cover careful to avoid tearing the yellowed pages. He flips through quickly scanning the pages for the perfect spell. Got it.

He closes the book with a thump, turns on his heel then heads over to the librarian. A women who he's sure has been around longer than the school itself; he shudders before he plants a pleasant smile on his tired face.

"Good morning Miss, just this please." She narrows her eyes at him and glances at the book.

"Hmmp. Name and house."

"Tom Riddle. Slytherin." She whispers something to the enchanted quill at her side and frowns. She glances once more at Tom then turns back to the quill.

"Bring it back whenever you want dear." He voice is soft and he hates it. He can feel all their eyes on him, all their sympathy. And he loathes them all.

It started the day after he was informed about Harri… the death. Careful looks and cautiously chosen words. Everyone fearing setting him off. "He lost his best friend." "Harrison's dead? Oh, poor Tom." Poor Tom? They were the ones who would regret His death. If those stupid muggles hadn't wanted him back at their orphanage then He would be alive. Muggles, they ruin everything.

Tom clenched his jaw, thanked the library and walked out with the book tucked carefully under his arm.

Once he was back in his dorm he opened the book again. Tom glanced around himself and shut the curtains tight around his bed; locking them with a hurried spell. The Slytherin dorms always seemed so cold without Him and staring at the lake through the glass no longer calmed Tom. No matter where he looked in his room there would always be the empty bed. The only empty bed.

Tom read well into the night until he found the spell he would need. Over and over again he repeated it until there was no way he could fail. He couldn't, wouldn't fail this.

It happened slowly over the next few months. Students began to forget. Mentions of Him slowed gradually until he was a distant memory in the minds of few. But Tom became frantic too many remembered. He is mine. No one was allowed memory of Him but Tom. Eventually no one remembered Him except Tom but still the whisper clawed at his mind.

"Harrison Porter is dead." Tom sat alone in his bed, midnight crept closer until it lay minutes away. Tom slowly raised his wand to his head and pulled a copy of the memories he had. He entered his favourites into bottles and it was only once he had a row of glimmering glass resting on his green sheets that he realised his face was wet. He touched his face carefully and smiled. Not long now. He smiled, placed the memories bottles into a case, pushed it under the bed, then sat back and held up the small mirror. He had been given it by Him, ironic really considering what he was about to do. Tom raised his wand again, one last time until he would sleep. He would finally just sleep. He whispered the now familiar spell with his wand resting against the mirror. The spell reflected back and before he could wince it hit. He fell back against the silk pillow unconscious. And forgetting.

A/N: Thanks for reading and the next update WILL be up this Sunday. On another note, I have Tumblr! The link is in my profile and soon I'll start posting any short one shots or updates there so… yeah. Thank you for your patience with this chapter and I'll try to be more on time!

YukiOnnaOfWinter