Juxtaposition

“Hadrian. Meet me inside the male’s bathroom on the sixth floor after dinner,”
“Why?” Harry asked cautiously, putting his cutlery down on the table.
“I want to show you something.”
“Alone? Not happening, Riddle.” Harry shook his head scrutinisingly.
“Why not? Do you not trust me?”
“Not particularly.”
“What about my peace offering?”
“What about it?”
Tom blinked, “I expected my gesture of good faith to make a pact that we would be civil towards each other.”
“Oh. I interpreted it as an apology. I guess I should’ve realised you are unable to do that.”
“Yes. It will be worth it, if you do come.”
Harry knew he hated the idea of being alone near Riddle, especially in the Sixth year bathroom. He hated going near there, as he still felt very guilty for almost killing Draco in that room, even if Draco shot first.
“If you won't come for the promise of peace, then come out of sheer curiosity. Don't you want to know what I have to show you?"
Harry's fingers drummed on the table, a clear sign of his internal conflict. "Fine. But I'm not promising anything. And if you try anything, Riddle, you'll regret it."
Tom smirked, the corners of his lips curling up in amusement. "I wouldn't dream of it," he replied, voice dripping with feigned innocence. "After all, I merely wish to extend an olive branch."
Harry snorted, "I think your branches have a history of being quite thorny."
“Really?” Tom asked sarcastically.

Harry, impatiently waited for the day to end. He had suspicions on what Riddle was going to show him, but he wasn’t 100% sure. Harry only planned on going to get more information about the young Voldemort.

Harry made his way up to the boy’s bathroom. He felt the hairs on his arms stand up with every step he took. Harry’s wand was drawn, ready for anything Riddle was planning.
“Peverell.” Tom greeted simply.
“What a dignified meeting place, Riddle.” Harry said, mocking Tom’s accent.
“I have decided, out of the kindness of my heart,” Harry laughed and Tom continued, “To invite you to come see a meeting between myself and a few of my…followers.”
Harry froze. Was he being led to a mini-Death Eater meeting?
“Our group is called the Knights of Walpurgis. We dedicate ourselves to rid the Earth of scum, such as muggles, though we also do menial tasks such as practising for classes and even duelling.”
“I’m leaving.”
“Hadrian. You won’t regret it. I promise.” Tom smiled. It was unnerving.
“No.”
Harry turned his back to walk away, but he felt his body go stiff.
“You will come and watch.” Tom insisted, staring at a frozen Harry.

Harry seethed as Tom's words echoed in his mind. The audacity of Riddle to think he could simply drag him into a meeting of his followers, even if it was under the influence of Petrificus Totalus. The room was filled with murmurs and whispers, but Harry's focus remained solely on Tom.
Despite his immobility, Harry's eyes burned with anger, each glare meant to pierce through the facade of the young Voldemort. The others in the room seemed to sense the tension, their conversations growing quieter, sidelong glances exchanged between them.
The meeting's discussions meant nothing to Harry. Every word spoken, every plan outlined, was drowned out by the rush of blood in his ears and the red haze of his anger. He didn't care about the Knights of Walpurgis or their supposed cause. All he cared about was the betrayal he felt at Tom's hands.
Finally, as the meeting came to a close, Tom released Harry from the immobilising spell. The moment the spell broke, Harry stormed forward, his face inches from Tom's. "Was it really that bad?" Tom asked, a mocking smirk playing on his lips.
"Yes," Harry spat, his voice dripping with venom. "It was a violation of trust, Riddle. I won't forget this."
Without another word, Harry turned on his heel and stormed out of the room, leaving behind a stunned Tom and a room full of whispering followers.

Harry made his way down to the Black Lake, noticing the sun was setting. The Black Lake looked pitch black underneath the sunset, its surface rippling with a subtle, mysterious energy. The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm, golden glow across the Hogwarts grounds. The air was tinged with the crispness of approaching evening, and the distant calls of magical creatures echoed in the tranquil atmosphere.
As Harry walked along the lake's shore, he couldn't shake off the lingering anger from Riddle.

The rhythmic lapping of the waves against the shore provided a gentle lullaby, and under the canopy of twinkling stars, Harry found himself drifting into an unintended slumber.

As dawn approached, the first rays of sunlight pierced the horizon, casting a soft, golden hue across the landscape. Harry stirred, the morning light warming his face. Disoriented, he glanced around, realising he had unintentionally spent the night by the lake.
Pushing himself up, Harry felt the stiffness in his limbs from sleeping on the cold ground. He hastily made his way back to the castle, his thoughts a whirlwind of confusion and concern about how he had managed to sleep through the entire night outdoors.
Upon reaching the Slytherin dormitory, Harry quickly changed into his robes, hoping to make it to breakfast without drawing attention to his early morning escapade.

The Great Hall was unusually quiet as Harry entered, the early hour finding only a few students scattered around, mostly from the other houses. Spotting the Slytherin table, he noticed Orion Black, who was engaged in a conversation with some fellow Slytherins.

As Harry approached, Orion looked up, his eyes narrowing slightly as they met Harry's. "Peverell," he greeted, a hint of curiosity evident in his tone. "Up bright and early, aren't we? Where did you disappear to last night?"
Harry hesitated, caught off guard by the directness of the question. Searching for a plausible explanation, he replied evasively, "Just needed some fresh air, I suppose."
Orion studied him for a moment, as if trying to decipher the truth behind Harry's vague response. "Very well," he said finally, though the suspicion in his gaze remained. "Just ensure you don't wander off without informing someone next time. It's not safe.”
Harry nodded absentmindedly. Harry’s mind wandered, and eventually reached Ron, Hermione and Ginny. Merlin, he missed his girlfriend.

Harry could feel his breathing quicken, and yet he felt like he couldn’t get enough air in. He could feel beads of sweat trickle down his face, and he hastily exited the Great Hall.

He leaned against the cold stone wall, taking deep breaths in an attempt to calm his racing heart. Remembering Hermione's advice from their previous encounters with dark artifacts, Harry decided to try the "5 things" method to ground himself. He looked around and began listing things he could see, feel, and hear, focusing intently on each detail.
However, as he tried to centre himself, his fingers subconsciously traced the raised, distorted lines of the scar on his hand. The memory of those words, "I must not tell lies," echoed in his mind, a stark reminder of the torment he had endured.

Desperately trying to keep his mind off of his friends, and how much he missed them his mind drifted to the Hallows. The invisibility cloak, the resurrection stone, the elder wand—three objects of unparalleled power, each with its own dark history.
His thoughts settled on the cloak. It was the most practical choice, the one that could aid him in his quest without drawing unnecessary attention. But the cloak was with his grandfather, and the idea of stealing from his own family didn't sit well with him.

Grindelwald and the Elder wand were another option, but that path was riddled with dangers and uncertainties. Dumbledore would eventually defeat Grindelwald, but at what cost?

One of Tom's ancestral rings held the resurrection stone, but the idea of having to confront Tom’s family sent shivers down his spine.
Taking a deep breath, Harry made his decision. The cloak was his goal. He needed it, and he believed it was the key to unlocking many of the mysteries surrounding him. He didn’t even need to have it for long, just long enough for Death to decide he had collected it.
But first, he needed a plan.
He racked his brain, trying to recall any information about his grandparents' home. It was a distant memory, one that he had never paid much attention to. Then it struck him—the fireplace in the Chamber of Secrets. A secret passage, known only to him, a place where he could travel undetected.
Determined, Harry set his plan into motion. He had three days to prepare. The disillusionment charm would be crucial. He remembered his lessons with Moody, the emphasis on stealth and precision.

Finding a secluded spot, Harry began practising the charm, refining it until he was nothing more than a mere shimmer in the air. Satisfied with his progress, he set his sights on the 25th, the day he would embark on his quest for the cloak.
For the first time in a long while, Harry felt a glimmer of hope. He had a plan, a purpose.

Harry knew he would be gone for a little while, so it wouldn’t hurt to start conditioning his roommates to not look for him after classes.

With determination set in his eyes, Harry descended into the depths of the Chamber of Secrets. The air was cold and musty, reminding him of his previous encounters with the ancient place. He moved cautiously, fully aware of the Basilisk's potential presence.
Upon entering the chamber, Harry could feel the weight of history surrounding him. The eerie silence was only broken by the distant dripping of water. Not wanting to awaken the Basilisk prematurely, he quickly cast a series of cleaning charms to clear the area.
His eyes darted around, searching for the fireplace he remembered. Spotting it tucked away in a corner, Harry approached and took a deep breath. He cast the disillusionment spell, making himself nearly invisible. With a clear voice, he called out, "Fleamont Potter's home."
The fireplace flickered to life, revealing the interior of an unfamiliar house. Harry peeked through the flames and realised the house was empty. "They must be at work," he muttered to himself, taking note of his surroundings.

Swiftly and silently, Harry made his way through the fireplace and into the Potter residence. His heart raced as he ascended the stairs to the attic. There, tucked away in a dusty corner, was the cloak. It was older than he remembered, but its shimmering quality was unmistakable.
With the cloak secured, Harry retraced his steps, making his way back to the Chamber of Secrets. Alone once more, he couldn't help but feel a sense of accomplishment.

Determined to distract himself from the fact he had stolen from his grandfather, Harry pulled out his Transfiguration homework. Lost in thought, he didn't notice Evander Rosier entering the common room until it was too late.
A loud explosion echoed through the room, causing several students to turn and stare. Harry's Transfiguration project lay in ruins, smoke billowing from the charred remains.
"Merlin's beard, Rosier!" Harry exclaimed, frustration evident in his voice.
Evander looked horrified. "Peverell, I'm so sorry! Are you okay?"
Harry waved him off, trying to hide his annoyance. "I'm fine, just a bit startled."
Rosier chuckled nervously, “Guess more theory work is in order.”

Just as Harry was starting to relax, Armando Dippet's voice echoed through the common room, summoning him. Confused, Harry made his way to Dippet's office, wondering what the headmaster could possibly want.
"Peverell," Dippet began, his eyes scrutinising Harry over his spectacles. "How are you settling in?"
Harry blinked, caught off guard by the sudden question. "Um, well, sir. Everything's going smoothly."
Dippet nodded, then continued, "And how are you coping with the loss of your parents?"
For a moment, Harry's mind went blank. He hadn't prepared for this.
"Uh, it's been difficult, sir," Harry stammered, trying to gather his thoughts. "But I have friends who support me."
Dippet seemed satisfied with the answer, dismissing Harry shortly after.
Returning to the common room, Harry's thoughts were interrupted once again, this time by Walburga Black, who approached him.
“I want to talk to you.”