The Bad Die Young
What if Tom Riddle's attempt to frame Hagrid as the Heir of Slytherin had gone terribly wrong? It's not safe to corner a desperate young man and his acromantula. All characters belong to J. K. Rowling, not me.
Chapter 1 – Spider
"It wasn't him. Aragog never killed no one. Never," said Hagrid.
"Monsters don't make good pets, Hagrid. Now, stand aside," said Tom Riddle.
"No!"
"Stand aside, Hagrid."
Hagrid lowered his head. He started to move away, as if defeated. But at the last moment he grabbed the huge chest and threw it at Tom Riddle with all his strength.
Tom only had time to cast the spell he had already prepared: "Cistem Aperio!"
The chest split apart as it flew toward him, pieces flying in all directions. The only thing that touched him was Aragog, who buried his venomous fangs into Tom's chest near his heart.
Tom fell to his knees, then rolled onto his back in agony as the poison took hold. Aragog scuttled away into the darkness.
"You've... you've murdered me, you and your filthy spider," he whispered up at Hagrid. "You'll see Azkaban for this."
"He didn't mean ter, he was just scared," said Hagrid. "You shouldn't oughta cornered us like that."
Hagrid began yelling for help, for someone to come and save Tom, but his voice was fainter and fainter in Tom's ears. The light faded away.
As his soul left his body, Tom felt a tether yanking him to the earth. It worked, just as Salazar Slytherin had written.
When my Heir first does my bidding by killing a muggle-born who dared to enter Hogwarts, let him bring with him an object precious to himself. I have laid a spell on my Cockatrice that will lock a piece of my Heir's soul into that object, rendering him immortal as long as he guards the object as he would his life.
Myrtle had fallen right into his hands. He saw her run to cry in the first-floor bathroom, the very mouth of the Chamber of Secrets. The monster had wanted to feast on her body, but it was regular school hours and the risk of others coming in was too great; he forced it back into the Chamber. It would have a long wait now before it could feed again.
He cursed himself for his foolish idea of cornering Hagrid alone. He had underestimated the half-breed. He should have brought Avery or Lestrange with him, to let them shield him with their bodies, but he thought the dolt would be easy enough to handle by himself. It was a foolish way to die.
Now his diary, now hidden safely under a floorboard in his dormitory room, was the only thread that kept him alive. He had wanted to learn more about the spell, and make more of these safeguards for himself, but one was enough for the moment. He was less than spirit, less than the meanest ghost. But he was alive... alive!
He sensed a rat nearby. He forced himself into control of its tiny mind and fled through a crack in the castle walls. One day he would return, and let the world beware the one who could fly from death, Lord Voldemort.