Content Warning: First of all this is a horror story, not angst, not romance, you will be horrified. This is everything dark that I have kept out of my other stories. It's rage at the way our society works against women distilled into my version of revenge. It's inspired by the #MeToo Movement, the Giving Tree, Altered Carbon (the tv series, not the book) and Gone Girl…

It is also, in my opinion, canon compliant, the diary's manipulation of Ginny was too skillful in Chamber of Secrets, like it had happened before...

IF YOU ARE UNDERAGE, PLEASE DO NOT READ. If you are of age, I still want to caution you because the content is very dark and includes manipulation, rape (implied), murder, and emotional and physical violence.

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Part I

...be ye therefore cunning as serpents, and gentle as doves.

—book of Matthew

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You may think you know how the story ends, but appearances can be deceiving.

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"I'd like you to meet Tom Riddle," Dippet clapped the boy on the back, "Tom this is Eliza Fortescue, her great-uncle was headmaster here before me, Eliza here knows all the ins and outs of Hogwarts castle, and her father—" he added conspiratorially, as though any eleven year old boy would be lucky to know, "owns the ice cream parlour in Diagon Alley."

Eliza, a curly haired first year with coppery brown skin, gave the dark-haired boy a polite, but awkward smile, "It's nice to meet you. And yeah, we do make our own ice cream."

The boy looked at her, taking in the bright yellow Hufflepuff scarf, and scowled with contempt, "Yes, can I go now Professor?" he was looking after the other students of his house and the prefects that led them down to the dungeons.

"Yes, go on, get settled son."

Tom winced at his unwelcome familiarity. He nodded stiffly to the girl and headmaster and left them.

Dippet looked after Tom's retreat, "I'd like you to help him out Eliza, he's not as accustomed with the wizarding world as you are, he grew up in an orphanage," he frowned, "and you know how Slytherins can be."

"Um I'll try Professor." She was unsure if the quiet boy would enjoy having friendship foisted on him.

"There's a good girl, off to bed with you."

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Eleven-year old Eliza did her best to look out for the odd Tom Riddle but he was having none of it. "I don't need help from a Hufflepuff," he whispered harshly when she offered to get him potions ingredients from the storage cupboard.

She turned back to her table and watched him furtively fumble with the unfamiliar herbs and fungi. She focused on her own Dreamless Sleep potion, stirring it carefully to bring out a gentle lilac hue that made Slughorn gush.

Tom watched the professor and student with a rising surge of envy and contempt.

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She luxuriated in the feel of loose potting soil and inhaled the earthy smell with gusto as she tended the Mandrakes in their second year. Hers were successfully earthed with time to spare when she moved on to help the other students in their class wrangle the cantankerous plants.

Most of the other second years looked at her with grateful smiles when she leant them a hand. The professor noticed and shot her a glowing look of thanks. Tom could only scowl. Eliza was careful not to offer him help, but she did deliberately demonstrate a proper repotting two rows away in full view of his workbench so that he could finally get his damn squalling brat to shut up.

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In their third year she noticed that he was looking through the magical lineage books in the library and before he reached some of the nastier tomes, she happened to drop a primer next to his table about disarming book hexes.

"Ok I get it," he growled, after glancing at the title.

"Get what?" she feigned innocence, "oh dear, I seem to have dropped my extra reading for Runes."

"Don't play dumb Fortescue," he bit out, "It's not in the least attractive."

"That almost sounded like a compliment Riddle," she teased good naturedly.

"I don't get why you're in Hufflepuff," he muttered sourly, "you could run rings around the Ravenclaws if you wanted."

"And that's precisely why you're in Slytherin, you have a talent for turning anything into an insult."

He narrowed his eyes at her and changed the subject, "what do you know about this stuff?" he gestured at the books on the table.

She lit on the book he had open and frowned, "The sacred twenty-eight, it's the so-called 'pureblood' lineages."

"Pureblood?" he asked with interest.

She scowled, her dark cheeks reddening, "it's a load of rubbish, supposedly they have no muggle blood which subsequently makes most of them total pricks."

He raised a brow and gave her a crooked smile, "I didn't know you Puffs could say anything bad about anyone." Anger was a new look on her, it intrigued him.

"Classifying people by blood status was Salazar's crusade, just because he could speak to snakes, he thought he was superior to everyone else," she rolled her eyes.

"He could speak to snakes?" Tom's eyes were alight with interest.

"He was a Parselmouth, it's the kind of thing that gets passed down in families so he didn't want anyone of impure blood to have his powers, or be associated with him," she huffed, "you know Professor Binns covered this in first year."

"I'm pretty sure you're the only one who listens to Binns," he murmured distractedly, mulling over this new information.

Eliza saw the contemplative expression on his face, he'd never been so engaged before, "So why are you looking into this?"

He hesitated.

"I won't tell anyone," she offered instinctively.

The hungry look in his eyes unnerved her but she remained outwardly calm, she had finally broken through, she couldn't afford to turn back now.

That was the first time he ever took something from her, her assurance.

O.O

Author's Note: Welcome all.

Some things you'll notice during your reading experience:

Little quotes: they're an unofficial guide to the mood of the story, sometimes song lyrics, verses, proverbs, poems. It's a thing that AP English beat into me hundreds of years ago and infects me to this day, they're short, you can ignore them if you like. I decided to put them in this story mostly because...I felt like it...it sort of matches the rushed glimpses narration style I'm going for. Oddly enough the story stretches out in Tom's fourth year and the trend continues, a bit like GoF, OotP, etc. angsty teens are hard to compress in short bursts is the lesson we must learn here, and stop blaming it on JKR.

The Heart of DARKNESS: no this is not a book reference, it's what this story makes me think of. This story is going to get really dark, you can clearly see that I'm assuming you are all little old ladies sitting in your rockers and knitting and have at least already taken AP English. If you are in middle school, come back when you're one of the aforementioned little old ladies. I'd love to have you then. I know there's worse stuff out there. And I know because I was a middle schooler on this site at one point in time...that you're probably not going to listen to me. You're tough, you're strong, clicking "I am 18" is something a two year-old can do etc. What I'd like to impress on you is that just because you can do something, doesn't mean you should. I care about you guys, you're the future.

See what I did there: I lied to you, I said welcome all at the beginning of this note, and then clearly disinvited about a third of you, I blame it on Tom, he's really wormed his way into my head, this was originally going to be an Eliza POV story...and then TOM erghh. So yes it's in third person, but it's a heavily influenced third person, freaking unreliable narration bs. Tom will lie to you, it's like oxygen for him, so be on your guard. CONSTANTfreakingVIGILANCE

God I hope that's the first and last time I ever talk that much about high school on this site...totally unnecessary...but it did bring together all the points I was trying to make quite nicely.

Erk this was supposed to be short...bye!