In reference, these characters and places are obviously not mine. This is the only chapter that will be in diary form so if you can manage to get through it, the second chapter is better.

Prologue

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A sleepy Tom Riddle sat in the faded light of the library scribbling away. If anyone had been watching him, they would have merely thought he was scribbling notes for potions class. But he knew that there was no way that anyone would be watching him.

But as he scribbled one would have only wondered what he was writing. For underneath his proud exterior was an angry agitated boy, a boy whose secrets are irresistible to read...

Late August,

You would think that I, Tom Riddle, head boy would be happy. I, the boy who would bring eternal glory to the house of Slytherin would be pleased in my existence.

But no, I have been lost and forgotten for what seems like ages for me. You see, I haven't left Hogwarts library in years. I know that might seem odd to some, well actually to most. For me, it is only natural. I have been sitting in the same spot for years now.

I've been sitting here, back in the restricted section of the library writing this; every once in a while catching a glimpse of a student's memory hovering in my library.

Such petty children they all are. It will only be a few more days till the rest of the students come back. I will still be waiting to be called upon by my older self. It has been so long.

Well anyway, enough about my plotting and scheming about what I will do someday.

I often find myself longing to revitalize myself but I know it's still to early, still too easy to get caught by a certain peasant in the back grounds of the school. That Hagrid fellow, the one I framed so I could get away with what I did. It was genius what I did, only Dumbledore believed him that he was innocent. But not even Dumbledore was strong enough to keep him from being expelled. I wonder if he ever thinks of me and how he failed.

I guess with me sitting here so long, I've grown bitter. But I deserve to be bitter; anyone would be after sitting here this long.

This actually is the first time I've ever written in this diary. When I say that I can't help but laugh, for I am this diary. I've been trapped in it, living in it, growing in it, but always staying the same. I've been alone for so long I guess I've gone crazy with loneliness that I'm writing to myself now. Well, in a way I guess I'm writing to you, my friend that I will never meet.

Hell, I'd give any thing to just even talk to that oaf Hagrid. I'm THAT lonely. The last time I spoke with some one was the night I put my self in here.

I remember it as if it was yesterday.

I snuck up into the common room during transfiguration. I knew that the house would be empty with most of its students in class. I pulled out this old diary I had gotten for Christmas from my Muggle orphanage, being as though it had been my last Christmas there. Not that I had been present of course, Slughorn had told me it was just common courtesy for them to send me a gift. My only family he had called them. What a laugh that had been.

I had hidden it from under my bed, when I pulled it out it took a great deal of blowing to get off the dust and spiders. Once I had it I ran down into the library walking right into the restricted section and no one even took notice of me. They never did, or if they did it would to say "Hello Tom!" or "How are you doing Tom?" I was always polite. They believed themselves to be my friends; they still would if I ever saw them.

I had nothing against those who were loyal.

I found a small space on the top shelf to put my book, this book, me. I climbed a ladder to get up to it, I set it in there making sure none of the pages were bent and it was properly placed. I then preformed one of the darkest spells in the history of magic, sending me, or the memory of me into the diary preserving my 17 year old self.

But something in this rare spell I cast, something in it seemed to seal this book in time. Not freezing it of course, but something else. When I read about the spell, one of the effects was that the book itself would be forever. Where ever I placed the book, people from all ages, long before or long after my time could find it.

That in of its self frightened me. What if someone from hundreds of years before my time came and moved the book? Or even worse, destroyed me? How would my other self ever succeed with out me?

I don't think I planned hard enough for the boredom I would face. I mean inside this diary is an exact copy of Hogwarts, although it's darker for it is only a memory. The colors seem faded like an old picture.

But I am alone; no one is here with me, not a living thing, no people, no dragons, no creatures in the forest, not even a mouse.

Only me.

I've memorized the whole grounds of this school, even the little village next door. But places I'd never been to before I came into this book just aren't there. It's like I can walk up to the end of a painting and fall off into darkness for eternity.

Actually I've never tried falling nor do I want to. I really don't want to find out if I'll fall for ever into oblivion. It doesn't really sound that entertaining. But I want to leave this place; I want to go back to the outside world. I've learned thousands of spells that are inside this faded library of my memory. You wouldn't believe all of the Dark Arts spells that are in the restricted section. Good god, I could go on forever learning these spells and making up new ones.

But one can only go on learning spells for so long before they die of boredom. For that matter, I don't even know if I can die. When I think about my life as it is I only get depressed, but then I think about how my other self is out there gaining power. I wonder if my other self dies, being as though I am a memory and me out there is the only one who knows about me, will I be forgotten? Will I cease to exist?

I know that the only way out is for me to take some one, to drain them to use their energy to make myself whole again. But first I must wait till some one comes and finds me.

But even then, will I have the heart to take their life so I can have mine?

And with that the boy put away his quill and diary, blowing out his candle before he left the library to journey off into the darkness.