December 1944

Tom Marvolo Riddle

The young, future Dark Lord gazed at his name, scribbled in delicate cursive writing.

It was an empty name for him. A combination of the men he had never known, didn't care for, and who were now dead.

It didn't matter though. All that he cared for was that the name he bore disgusted him; it held no true meaning. It was only a mask, a fake identity that did not suit his true essence. He had yet to discover his true name.

His long fingers traced the rim of the paper, trailing the sides and feeling the worn out, black leather. This was his diary. The one thing he had kept with him throughout all his years at Hogwarts, one of his most precious possessions. This diary, unlike any other in the world, did not hold petty emotions. Its true purpose was to hold his mind; his every thought was poured into this diary along with something so much more sinister.

He dipped his quill into the bottle of ink, smoothed the paper and started writing without wondering how to start. Words, just like in lips, flowed easily in paper to him.

February 1, 1945

Jane, or as she calls herself, was the only student of my year to stay in Hogwarts for the winter holidays. Now, why would I mention her in here? Here, in this place that rarely holds any names unless they prove to have some useful purpose or is a threat to be removed… This girl, she has the potential to become either one.

She hides, in dark corners, behind lies, with a mask that could fool any innocent. She knows that I can see through her, I know that she has no simple academic purpose in this castle and it terrifies her. And I begin to wonder if it involves me… Yes, she hides like a mouse behind books and parchment, keeping only to herself but then she shows this hatred towards me. Since the first day that she transferred here, I can feel her gaze following me, stalking with caution and intensity.

Threats do not work against her, for I have warned her not to meddle with me, and it seems to only intensify her determination.

She is a threat. She is—

Tom had been so engrossed in his writing that he had not noticed when someone entered the common room.

"Riddle, you haven't been here in a while."

Tom stopped writing, placed the quill in the bottle. He looked up to see who had entered although he already knew who it was; there was no mistaking the pompous tone, apparently a trademark of his ostentatious family, along with blonde hair.

"Slytherin needed a visit," answered Riddle, lying with ease. The truth was that the Head Girl was searching for him, and he was not in a mood to be bothered with her. "The welcome was a bit lacking, Malfoy."

Abraxas Malfoy was a true upholder of the family name: proud, blonde, arrogant, and sly. Tom had a great distaste for him, but he was tolerating because he knew what an important pawn Abraxas had proven to be.

"And what are you doing?" Abraxes questioned, eyeing the book that Tom was covering under his arm. "Las I knew, there was no work for the holidays."

"Do I have to tell you about my personal researches, Abraxas," Tom stared at him calmly with a small smile.

Malfoy swallowed. Tom's charms could trick professors and other students, but he was one of the few that could feel the murderous intensity he radiated. "No. Of course not," he answered.

Tom nodded, pleased with the response as he pocketed the book. He stood up suddenly, causing Malfoy to take a step back. "I will go to the library. Are you coming?"

"No, it's rather late and I'm expecting a package from my father."

"As you like." That suited him perfectly in fact. Without even another glance at him, Tom left Slytherin's common room. The library was one of the few places in the castle where he could trust to be alone. For now he had much on his mind; he would soon have to settle things with Jane. Little did he know that she too wanted to settle things with him, she wanted him dead.