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You and Tom Riddle were prefects. You often saw him in potions classes and wandering the halls ─ often late at night. You didn't trust him, that was the truth; when you looked at him, you could feel something dark, sinister, but he hid it well behind his polite conversation and charming smile. The teachers loved him, they all say he is the prodigy of the class of 1944 and has a reputation as a golden boy.

It was late at night and you were finishing your last round, turning the corner, and you saw a tall silhouette in a Slytherin uniform passing quickly; you narrowed your eyes to see who it was and then realized it was Tom Riddle. You raised an eyebrow, suspicions were raised, and then, on impulse ─ damn Gryffindor courage - you decided to follow him down that hallway.

After walking for a few minutes, you lost sight of the boy and looked for him and it was then that you heard a sudden voice behind you.

"Looking for me, prefect?"

You turned around and there he was, standing before you, one eyebrow raised and his usual "good boy" expression on his face, but his eyes were different - darker, dangerous.