Bold is 3rd POV (and, in the beginning, it's my author's note. The bold isn't used until the end.)

"Talking." and/or "Talking."

'Thoughts.' and/or 'Thoughts.'

You'll understand what that above means once you start reading. It's fairly simple, I think :) At least, I hope. Please tell me if you had trouble—and if you have any ideas on how to make it more understanding!

Warnings: Hints of slash. If you don't like, DON'T READ. Seriously. However, if you DON'T MIND hints of it, then you really should be fine. It depends on if you don't like it so much that you're a total homophobe, so judge for yourself if you can read this. And don't blame (or flame) me if it's too much for you. You just have to click the "back" button. That's it, I think.

Disclaimer: Honestly, I really, really DON'T own Harry Potter. If I did, I would love myself because I had the ability to think of such an amazing story plot. Not to mention I'd be loaded. Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. End of story (no, take that out, sorry. End of disclaimer).

Edit, the day after this was posted: Ahhh! I forgot to say this was a oneshot…I kinda wanted to continue it, but, well…I started and it didn't turn out too well. In a week or so I'll try again and see from there, but for now it's a oneshot. Plus, if I do continue, I'll definitely be writing around ten chapters (or more or less) before posting it, so it'll be a little bit of a wait. Sorry for not clarifying!

"Harry Potter, you say?"

"Yes, sir."

"It says here you're an orphan…your parents died when you were a year old from the Dark Lord Grindelwald, correct?"

"Yes."

"Hmmm…you grew up in a muggle orphanage?"

"Yes, Professor."

"But then, of course, your godfather…was it…ah, yes, here it is. Your godfather, Regulus Black, gave you private lessons, until he…oh, he died last month. I'm terribly sorry."

"That's okay, sir, but yes, that's correct."

"Hmm…on an entirely different matter, I think that Regulus was the…second? Yes, second cousin of a student here. Perhaps you could make a friend."

"What?"

"I said," Tom repeated slowly, as if talking to an idiot, "that you simply aren't interesting anymore. You used to fight back, be more aggressive. You were interesting. But now you're boring, and we're over."

"No, no, no! I love you! You can't…you can't break up with me! Please, please. I'll do anything—I'll, I'll, I'll fight back! Be more…be more aggressive."

But Tom was already walking away, and the girl who fell back against the wall and slid to the floor, sobbing, knew better than to follow.

"This is the entrance hall, which you have obviously already seen, as you came in this way!" Here the headmaster laughed, as if it were funny.

Harry wasn't laughing, but he did smile nervously, in a small attempt to placate the (obviously senile) professor.

"Not again…" Cygnus Black sighed.

"Are you talking to me, Cygnus?" Tom inquired, smirking and brown eyes flashing red in the candlelight. However, he did not look up from his book.

"Who else would I be talking to? There's no one else in the room."

"Is that true?" Still, Tom sat at the desk beside his dormitory bed, unmoving and unwilling to pay any more attention than he already was to Cygnus.

For a few minutes, neither spoke, until Tom interrupted the silence.

"Who should I go for next, do you think?"

Cygnus rolled his eyes and didn't answer, knowing that Tom would continue anyways.

"I was thinking maybe Iceleigh Prewitt. What do you think?

"I think her brothers will kill you. Why don't you go for one of them instead?" Cygnus sighed frustratedly, obviously annoyed with Tom.

Tom ignored him, and continued to write for a few minutes, until Cygnus spoke.

"Tom."

"Hmm?"

"I…Well, I don't agree."

Tom looked up, brown-red eyes flashing again, this time in both intrigue and warning. "What…do you not agree with, Cygnus?"

"And this is the potions laboratory, of course! I should hope that was obvious from the potions ingredients and the cauldrons on the tables." The headmaster winked.

"Yes…strangely enough I did see those and recognize that this room was most likely associated with potions," Harry said wryly, though inside he was more bored than he had probably ever been in his life.

The headmaster wasn't listening, however. Instead, he walked on, talking about inane things around the castle.

Harry followed silently.

"You need to stop, Tom. Stop playing around."

Even though Tom was becoming scarier by the second, and obviously angrier, Cygnus held strong.

"…Playing around, you say?"

"Yes, Tom."

Tom's eyes narrowed for a bit, studying Cygnus for a few minutes. However, Cygnus wasn't Tom's closest "acquaintance" (though he was far from close, because Slytherins—especially Tom—weren't "close") for nothing. Because of this, Tom simply said, "Tell me more," and focused his attention back on his book.

For a minute or so, Cygnus said nothing. Then he sighed, (seemingly) changed the subject, and said, "What are you going to do when you find someone who doesn't break?"

"We'll have to Sort you at dinner, of course. The Sorting Hat won't do a poem or anything, just give you a House, naturally."

"Yes, sir."

"Everyone breaks, Cygnus," Tom replied. "We all have a breaking point."

Cygnus was very tempted to point out and say, 'Even you,' but his self-preservation prevented from acting on the stupid idea. Instead, he said, "But not everyone can be broken by you, Tom." As it was, this sentence was almost just as dangerous.

Cygnus had a feeling that he had just signed his death sentence, for Tom was already glaring at him, eyes dangerously red, all previous focus on his book forgotten.

"What—"

"Ah, look at the time! We should head down to dinner right about now. It will take a few minutes to get there from here anyways," the Headmaster said.

"Sounds good, sir," Harry said. 'How many times am I going to answer with three words or less when talking to the Headmaster?' Harry wondered to himself. 'At least,' he corrected, 'when am I going to actually talk to the man in more than three words when he's actually listening?'

For a brief moment, Cygnus closed his eyes in relief. 'Thank Merlin for miracles,' he thought to himself. 'And thank Merlin for Walburga Black.'

Walburga, previously having just told them that dinner was about to start, shuffled in the door nervously, now aware that she had interrupted something (which she was hinted to by Tom, who was glaring furiously at her).

Recovering himself, Tom said, "Well, we better get to dinner then."

Cygnus knew that this conversation would continue later.

"SLYTHERIN!"

The Headmaster's eyes dimmed slightly, but he clapped nonetheless for Harry as he began the walk to the green and silver table. Harry remembered the Headmaster talking about how he had been a Gryffindor. Harry figured he had wanted him to be in the same House.

Harry scanned the table for a seat, found an empty one farther down, and began walking towards it.

"I've found my new target," Tom said, smiling viciously and watching with hawk-like eyes as the new kid (Harry Potter, he heard) walked towards a spot near them.

Beside him, Cygnus huffed and almost banged his head on his plate, before remembering Slytherin Poise (there were Caps for a reason).

As he walked, the new kid's eyes met Tom's.

Red-brown eyes.

Green eyes.

Black hair—no, just a very dark brown.

Black hair.

Elegant.

Graceful, in a way.

He's very handsome.

Pretty thing. I'm going to have fun breaking him.

Too bad Harry Potter didn't break.

…

P.S. On the Edit: I kinda changed the ending slightly…I think this one flows better.

What did you think? Reviews are appreciated, as always.

And tell me if I made mistakes, or something was unclear, or whatever. I love constructive criticism, especially if it actually helps, so you're in the okay if you "didn't like something" (in my writing, in the plot, etc.), or something like that. It's even MORE appreciated if you suggest a way to fix it, naturally :)

Thanks for reading!