This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Harry Potter world, which is trademarked by J.K. Rowling. I do not own anything and do not wish to make any money from this.
Harry lay in his bed, head pounding and eyes stinging. His hands were stained red with blood. It made patterns on his skin, traveled along creases and stuck to his hair. He should have washed it away, but he was too tired now, too weak. He might as well face the death; face the fear and misery by letting it show on his skin.
With eyes shut he could see faces contorted in dread and eyes flicker out. He saw a woman lying sprawled on green grass. A child shook brokenly by her side, blood seeping out between small, trembling fingers as she tried to keep it from leaking out of her still mother. "Please … please wake up …"
Every day was blurry and dreamy. It was always the same. Red splattered on pale beige and gargled screams from throats filled with blood.
He reached for the diary, along with his quill and some ink.
'Are you there?' he scribbled.
The ink settled for a few seconds before it sank into the heavy parchment. One neatly written word slowly appeared on the empty page.
'Yes'
He smiled, settling himself deeper beneath the covers. 'It's not like he has anywhere else to go' Harry reminded himself. He pressed the inked tip against the rugged paper and continued.
'I've been wondering … If Voldemort died, would you die too?'
The words faded and the page remained empty. Harry frowned and twirled the quill between his fingers in impatience. The blood on his hands had darkened, next to the vibrant red of the feather it almost looked like dirt. "Pureblood's blood looks just like mud when clotted" Ron would have grinned.
'I have not yet found an answer to that.'
Harry watched the words until they faded. Tom was intelligent; He always had answers for his questions. Never before, had he said that he didn't know.
This was not Voldemort; Harry was sure. The soul inside the diary was young. It was the Dark Lord's passed self, locked away in a world far away. Long forgotten and discarded until Harry had swiped the dust of its cover.
He had once asked what it was like, to be stuck inside an old book. "I've always strived of being immortal." He had answered. Harry thought this odd, wouldn't he die if the diary got destroyed?
'Well, I hope you'd stay.' Harry wrote in hesitation.
He relaxed, and shut his eyes for just a second, but it was enough for his exhausted mind to plunge into slumber. His arms slackened and the open diary fell to the ground, displaying Tom's words.
'I didn't know you cared, Potter.'
But Harry wasn't there, he was drowning in crimson rivers and mountains were crumbling beneath his bare feet. He was running across violet oceans, each droplet of water sticking to him and dragging him back. 'You're going to die' they whispered. A green light ray traveled across the expanse of water, heading straight for his heart.