The Chamber of Secrets, Indeed
II: In Which Tom Wants Answers
As with all things that caught Tom Riddle's interest, Harry Potter had become an obsession. Harry was now less a person and more a festering question that nagged at Tom's conscience.
Tom didn't like being wrong—nor was he used to it. Yet, he'd obviously made a miscalculation somewhere. Heroes didn't just become nonchalant manipulators at the drop of a hat; they were either that way to begin with, or something happened.
Tom's running theory was the former, because what could've happened in the few months since Harry'd owned his diary? Maybe his parents died—oh wait! They were already dead. His bad.
So, after months of relentless pondering, Tom decided it was nigh time to put his quest for world domination on hold and get some answers.
Luckily, Hogwarts was out of session, and it just became a matter of tracking down the boy's home. Not that Tom couldn't break into Hogwarts, mind, it's just that it'd be… a bit more effort than he wanted to spend on a science experiment.
Finding the house—and what a plain house it was; Tom hated it already— was about as difficult as could be expected—Harry Potter was The-Boy-Who-Lived, after all, and for all he didn't act it in the Chamber, he was the wizarding world's savior; an investment to be protected.
The wards came as a surprise. Well, more specifically, the intensity of the wards came as a surprise—they were unlike anything he'd ever seen! Tom would have to be a fool not to expect any wards at all.
Thus, Tom partook in the sophisticated act of Harry-watching. He made observations, witnessed the boy in his natural environment, looking for any sign of what he'd seen in the Chamber.
For a long while, there wasn't even a speck of it.
Harry acted snarky and bold, occasionally had bursts of temper, and was overbearingly what he'd expected to see all those months ago.
It was frustrating. It was enlightening.
Harry kept his mask up almost all the time. Tom might've thought what he'd seen in the Chamber was the act—never mind the pointlessness of such a show—had he not caught a glimpse of it again, when Harry'd made the fat muggle woman expand like a balloon.
The "well this is going to be hard to explain", the impassive if slightly smug look, before everything shifted into the angry panic one would expect.
It confirmed what he'd seen, and it further highlighted their similarities. Both forced to live, unwanted, with stupid, sniveling muggle scum, both with masks and charms set in place to avoid suspicion…
Tom, were he more of the romantic sort, would've likened them to be soulmates.
But it still didn't answer the how, the why. Tom still wanted answers.
Answers that could only be provided via Harry Potter himself.
A/n: Was a one-shot, now it's not, expect sporadic updates. I don't know what I'm doing, tbh.
Reviews are appreciated. I still don't own Harry Potter .
