Herido woke slowly, which was not exactly unusual, but the black plastic covering him and blocking out any light certainly was. He reached up a hand and ran a finger along the inside of a zip: a body bag. Bloody Draco! The last thing he remembered was catching the apple his blond friend had brought him when he missed breakfast – as he always did. A poison apple! That was cute (!). But was ultimately something he'd more associate with the twins: the world was doomed if they'd started to work together like that. Heri stayed silent to listen to what was going on outside and easily ascertained he was on the Hogwarts Express. He stifled a laugh at the thought of his friends heaving a body bag onto the train. It was interesting that nobody tried to stop them.

He knew the symptoms of cyanide poisoning; he was nauseous, tired enough to drift back off and he felt oh so weak. That fact he'd been given enough to knock him out meant he'd been given enough to kill anyone else a hundred times over, which in turn meant they'd had help and advice. Wednesday! He should have known not to trust that 'accepting' smile when he told his family he wouldn't be coming home for Christmas.

Normally, going home at the end of each term was something he very much looked forward to, but he wasn't finished with Tom yet, and his family would know something was going on with him the second he arrived. Damnit Wednesday would be all over this.

Carefully he sat up, the bag falling to fine threads around him.

"Heri!" Hermione called with a laugh.

"Didn't think you'd be waking up before we got back." Blaise was also in a jovial spirit. Heri frowned as he dusted himself off and looked round. The only non-Slytherin in the compartment was Neville – his friends taking up almost half of it. Noticeably absent however were Draco and the Weasleys. Kounna hissed in pleasure as she left Daphne's lap to wrap herself tightly around Heri's neck, though he paid her no mind after his brief hiss of 'traitor'.

"Where are they?" His dark tone sobered the others up a little. "What?" He asked with a sly smile. "I just wanted to congratulate them." They shared a few glances, clearly not convinced.

"They, er, the others are staying at school for Christmas." He smirked a little at Neville before shaking his head. It was smart of them, but unnecessary: he really was impressed they'd got him, even with his vicious little sister guiding their hands. It never occurred to him that they'd try anything. Still, he could hardly let his friends think he was an easy target. Peeves owed him a favour…


"Darling!" Morticia cried when Heri alighted. "Wednesday told us you'd changed your mind. I'm so glad." With a defeated sigh and a genuine smile he made his way over. "You look well rested, mi herido." His eyes were still a little bloodshot, and he was a few shades paler than even his usual pallor.

"Yes mother, I woke in a body bag." He said as he led the two of them from the busy platform, ignoring the hungry or wary looks that followed their every step.

"How fortunate. And how did you die?"

"I didn't. It was simply a rouse." She stopped to look down at him in pity.

"Well dear, you can't have everything."

The second that dank, musty smell of home reached him, Heri was cracked at the base of his skull by what felt suspiciously like the blunt of an axe. He fell, splayed to the floor, but quickly rolled over with a groan to look up at his beloved sister. However, instead of seizing this rare opportunity (for it was nearly impossible to get Herido on the floor), she simply looked down at him – head cocked to the side in confusion. There was something wrong with her brother and she didn't like it, not one bit.

"Not now children: they're waiting for us." Morticia said softly as she glided past them and into the house. Wednesday took a few more seconds to stare at him with eyes that seemed to scrutinize his very soul, before she finally turned to follow their mother, and leaving Heri to gather himself.

Heri allowed Kounna to slink to the floor before standing. He knew they'd be able to tell something was wrong, but it was only when he felt that blow to his head that he realised there actually might be. That little scene had been embarrassing, and it occurred to him that he'd been caught off guard twice within the course of a single day. It was shameful really.

Deciding to put his troubled thoughts aside for now, he went to greet his family, and by the time said greetings were concluded, Lurch was serving a magnificent feast. His mouth almost watered as the smell of alligator breast reached him – oh, how he'd missed home cooking!

"So then, what have they been doing to you at that school, son?" Gomez asked lightly between mouthfuls. Heri felt a little on edge to notice all eyes were on him as he considered his answer. It seemed Wednesday wasn't the only one to notice a change in him.

"The same as usual." He replied in the same light, conversational tone. "There's a monster on the loose though, so that's something."

"What?" Pugsley cut in with begrudging interest. "That's it. I want to change schools. Ilvermorny actual go out of their way to ensure the campus is safe, but it seems like Hogwarts has a featured creature every few months!" There were murmurs of agreement around the table, and more than a few words of encouragement for the older son.

Before Pugsley could comment any further, Grandmamma threw the conversation by asking where on earth Heri had acquired another Horcrux. Heri carefully placed down his cutlery, no longer hungry, before recounting the events leading up to his possession of the Diary.

"So you stopped the attacks?" Wednesday asked with a frown. Heri just shrugged.

"Of course. I'm not doing Voldemort's dirty work. If I choose to attack the school I'll have a better reason than killing muggleborns. I just thought he could… widen my skillset." He defended, his face crunched up in distaste, which only caused his father the laugh joyously.

"See, what did I tell you? A manic – a megalomaniac in the making! Ha!" There were mutterings of agreement around the table, as though it were merely a comment on the weather.

"Well, why don't we have a chat with him then?" Grandmamma suggested merrily, before downing her nettle wine in one gulp and then spitting into the empty goblet. Heri was watching on in a little confusion and growing trepidation as she started adding seemingly random items to the liquid that was beginning to bubble like boiling water, or spitting acid.

She looked across to Heri expectantly. "Well, let's have it then. If this Horcrux is sentient, let's have a look at him." He considered refusing – as always he didn't want to share this with anyone else, but there was no doubt this could be a great opportunity and so in the end he handed over the Diary. Grandmamma laid it carefully on a silk cloth and poured her potion over it. The acid like substance immediately started to eat away at the silk, but the diary was seemingly unaffected, though it started to glow an eerie almost sickly green, and then suddenly there was a flash of blinding light and stood beside the table, clear as day, was Tom Marvolo Riddle.

Tom looked down at his hands in confusion. Draining power from the Addams boy had been strangely easy, much easier than with the Weasley girl, and while it was curious, he had decided to just go with it and write it off as something to do with the boy's unusual powers. Even so, he was nowhere near ready to take physical form…

"Mr Voldemort, welcome to our home." Morticia said graciously as she stood to greet the teenager as though it the most normal thing in the world for guests to suddenly appear from within books. "You must be famished. Won't you partake of our humble table?" She asked with flourish.

Tom looked across the 'humble' table – it was chocked full of various dishes, and not a single one looked at all appetising. The woman who'd spoken was deathly pale, and was quickly joined by who he assumed to be her husband. He took her hand tenderly in his own.

"Tish, you're always the perfect hostess." He said reverently, before pulling her close.

"Later Gomez, we have company."

"Ah, yes!" The man spun quickly to face Voldemort, who was feeling more out of place as the seconds ticked by. "Voldemort old boy, a pleasure to have you here." The young Lord could do nothing as his hand was taken in an enthusiastic handshake. "Herido's told us all about you of course. Never did quite get over that obsession, did you son?" He teased. It was only then that Voldemort followed the man's eye line and caught sight of the latest owner of his diary. He almost stepped back from the triumphant smirk the boy was sending him.

Heri was more than satisfied with the situation as he considered how much easier getting information from an actual flesh and blood body might be.

"Now, you know Herido, of course…" Gomez was cut off by his brother, who bounded over like an excited child to greet the newcomer.

"Hi!" Fester shouted. Tom could tell there was something off about this man – he could just feel he was dangerous, though maybe he was simply feeling uncomfortable having the man so close; he was right up in his face, grinning like a maniac. "I'm Fester, how do you do?"

"Now, now, Fester, don't be selfish." Chided another voice and when he turned to the old hag it took all his self-control to remain impassive. "I'm the one who conjured you." The woman informed him, batting her eyelashes as she spoke. He couldn't suppress the shudder this time.

"Show off!" Fester called as he made his way back to his place at the table.

"Well, sit down then. We don't bite!" The old woman cackled as she shuffled down a little and conjured another chair with a wave of her hand. Normally, he would have been intrigued by this incredible magic, but her next words left him completely numb to it. "Unless you want me to." He imagined the woman thought the smile she was going for was 'sweet'… he wanted to run away.

So caught up in his increasingly disturbed thoughts was he, that he almost jumped clear into the air when a gong sounded so loudly it shook the house.

"You rang?" He turned once more and decided Herido must simply be playing some horrific trick on him in order to tease out information – everything was just too bizarre to be anything else. The latest addition to the scene was taller than even the teenage half giant at school, looked like a corpse and groaned as though his every move was painful.

"Lurch, please arrange another setting for our guest." The woman from earlier commanded, before noticing his widened eyes. "Dear Lurch is our butler." She informed helpfully. "He's very good."

Just as he was trying to get his head around everything that was going on, a persistent squeaky chattering drew his attention away yet again. Sat at the foot of the table, making the nonsense sounds was a moving mound of… hair? He fell into the proffered seat, and barely noticed when the walking dead butler returned to place dishes, glasses and cutlery before him.

"I need to sit down." He finally spoke, though his voice was quiet and a little strained. He thought he could adapt to any situation, but this was madness.

"You are sitting down." The little girl sitting beside Herido appeared to be just as excited as that Fester character, though her excitement was all in her eyes – he could see it glittering mischievously within those bottomless pits and the effect was altogether more unnerving than the bald man's. "I'm Wednesday." She said.

"It's nice to meet you Wednesday." He was glad his voice held so strong, but the more he talked and the more nothing insane happened, the more at ease he felt. Well, maybe 'at ease' wasn't the right phrase, but he was too busy wondering how to fight off these ghouls without a wand to think of anything better.

"This is my baby brother, Pubert." He'd barely given the toddler a glance when he had to duck to avoid the flaming arrow. He had no idea where that had even come from. "And this is our other brother, Pugsley."

"How do you do?" The eldest child held out his hand, and Voldemort reached out on autopilot to take it, only to gasp in horror as it came loose!

"I, I…" His brain desperately searched for reason and logic, but came up blank, so he was somewhat grateful to hear the children's snickers.

"That's our marvellous Thing. He's always so playful." The mother stepped in to introduce the animated hand… it had to just be an animated hand… but it moved with such agility and seemed to know Morse code…

"Would… I'm sorry to impose, but would it be possible to lie down for a while?" He felt much more like Tom Riddle than he did Voldemort at that moment.

"But of course!" The woman returned. She reached up to pull a silver thread as it appeared above her and that awful gong rang out once more. Soon after the butler reappeared. "Lurch, please show Mr Voldemort to a guest room."

And not able to do anything else at that moment, he followed Lurch out of the room, trying to ignore the woman's voice that just about reached him: "Well, he's an odd one isn't he?"

The young Voldemort sat on the edge of a bed he suspected was trying to swallow him and looked across to the door that had just been closed – dear god, it had bars on the window! He had never felt more overwhelmed, so he took five minutes to shift through his thoughts in order to make sense of what was happening: This was obviously the Addams boy's family, and from what he'd seen they did indeed practise a type of magic he'd not come across before. The fact that they'd given him form meant that it was just as powerful a magic as he'd been led to believe. Once he'd figured out that much, he knew he couldn't waste the opportunity being here presented him with, and quickly managed to pull himself together.

The day after his arrival he'd been informed that his manifestation was only temporary, so he wasted no time and the next time he saw the family he was back to his charming self, even enduring the not so subtle flirting from Grandmamma with grace. He'd been surprised when they gave him a spare wand, but he'd already discerned these people didn't see him as a threat. He chose the wand that best suited him from a box filled with maybe two dozen and they explained it was likely from 'some auror or another'. Apparently many of the enforcers of wizarding law that visited this house quit their jobs before leaving. The house itself was a treasure trove of magic and artefacts, and he tried to sneak away as much as possible to explore. It never even crossed his mind to leave – there was too much to learn here, though he found out the hard way that there was also danger around every corner.

Wednesday was the most helpful in showing him around the house, though he wondered continuously whether she was simply trying to get him killed.

They walked together towards the library while she asked about what vicious things he had planned for muggleborns and light wizards, when he was suddenly attacked from below. The girl just laughed as he struggled to free his foot from their bearskin rug's jaws.

"Don't mind Bruno, he's just hungry." He said nothing – he'd quickly decided it was best not to think on these things too much – and once he'd cleared the killer rug he carried on down the long hallway. Once they reached the library doors they paused.

"Uncle Alfred!" Wednesday called, waking the shrunken head hanging from the door knob. The Head's eyes and mouth were sewn shut, but it swung in the child's direction before letting out a muffled huff, and the doors swung open. Voldemort shouldn't have been surprised, he really shouldn't, but he couldn't help gawp at it for a few moments before entering.

"I can show you how to make one if you like – a shrunken head. It's very easy." The girl really was too helpful.

"Maybe later." He replied politely, while his eyes hungrily took in the endless, no doubt priceless books in front of them.

… Of course she didn't warn him that most were too dark for the teenager and would try to kill him if he so much as touched them. By the time Lurch came to announce supper, he was exhausted and perhaps a little less sane than he was hours earlier. Seeing this, Uncle Fester offered to recharge him, but when he brought out an actual generator and tried to plug it into Voldemort's ear he hastily declined the kind offer. Supper that night was eye of tadpole – it was a good thing that Horcruxes were nearly indestructible, he told himself. If the food poisoned him he could hightail it back to the Diary! There was also a concern that it appeared to be a common occurance for members of the house to suddenly start duelling and the like across the table, though he was more concerned that he was starting to get used to it.


"What do you mean 'it can tell or show you anything'" Tom asked as he sat at the table beside Heri, staring at the glowing screen before them.

"I mean what I said; watch." Heri leaned over and hit a button. "How hot is the sun?" He asked the computer – shushing the mini Dark Lord when he opened his mouth, thinking he was being addressed and ready to answer. When the automated voice gave its answer Voldemort couldn't help but be interested.

"And muggles built this, you say?" He asked in distaste, which much to his chagrin only caused the other boy to laugh.

"Yes. They really are quite ingenious when they want to be."

"And this doesn't worry you? That they've come so far? They were destruct fools back in the forties; surely a thing like this would only make them all the more dangerous!"

Heri's gleeful smile did nothing to quell his fears. "Oh yes, they could easily destroy the whole world if they wanted to." Voldemort didn't react to his words at all, because he knew that's what the boy wanted. Instead he carefully ran his fingers across the keyboard, before proceeding to explore this new muggle devise thoroughly. By the time he was done he'd come to appreciate just how far the world had come in fifty years, and although he still believed the muggles were too dangerous to be allowed to live, he had to begrudgingly respect their achievements.

When it came time for him to return to the Diary he'd learnt enough to keep him busy for years. However, even though he'd had free reign of the house, he was no closer to figuring out the Addams' power. Even so, he was more determined than ever to get free and reunite with his master soul.

'So, how did you like my family?' Heri asked a few days before the start of term.

'They were most… accommodating.' Was Tom's calculated reply. 'I'd be happy to visit again, should your grandmother wish to release me once more.' Heri scoffed at the suggestion. He could only imagine how hungry Tom was to learn more. Heri had managed to glean some opinions and thought processes from the Dark-Lord-in-the-making over these holidays. Unfortunately he'd only got him in the playroom once after Tom had complained of a bad back and he'd offered to 'stretch' it out. Since then the teen was careful not to complain or be led anywhere near the room again.

He had been impressed by charm and charisma Tom had displayed in such an overwhelming situation: to find himself suddenly with form, in the company of powerful wizards and in a world utterly foreign to the one he'd known. He was also surprised at how civil he'd been – only once had he drawn his wand against Heri and after a darkly biting warning from Heri he'd backed down with grace. They obviously both knew the situation was too big an opportunity to waste on petty quarrelling. Heri now knew for sure that Voldemort was only playing on the purebloods' paranoia and sense of entitlement to gain access to their wealth and influence, and that he was damn good at playing people. He truly did despise muggles, but being a half blood more powerful than any of his 'friends', he didn't truly believe in blood rank the way he claimed to. However manipulation wasn't his only motivation.

Herido was hoping keep the dialogue open, but in his enthusiasm it only took half an hour before he pushed too far.

'So really, you're just clinging to a sense of family identity and ancestry with your whole anti 'mudblood' agenda.' At this insinuation the sucking feeling grew stronger and Heri had to fight through his blurred vision that resulted from the terrible headache. 'Hey, it's ok. I understand.' He wrote shakily. 'Slytherin was a great man and if he was all I had to find a sense of belonging I would probably…' He dropped his pen as the pain became worse than ever – it was torturous – would have been magnificent really if Heri wasn't the one affected. Voldemort just really didn't appreciate being humanised in any way, did he?

Heri pressed a hand against his scar, only to feel blood seeping through his fingers. Almost in slow motion he watched it drop onto the open page of the Diary on his lap. Time snapped the other way and everything happened at once; his eyes rolled back as his power flowed unhindered into the Diary, and just before he passed out his natural defences kicked in – an invisible force tossing the Dairy across the room where it closed upon landing – and then everything was black.

Over the following days, Heri researched and asked all he could in the hopes of finding a way to block the power of the Diary but also continue to use it. He found nothing. Blood was powerful – his blood even more so – and it had allowed Tom to forge a direct channel with Heri. Draining his power had already been made easier due to Heri's own Horcrux, but now Tom could effortlessly drain his life force too: If he continued to use the Diary he would be offering his life on a silver platter, which was something Herido was simply not going to do.

Realising he had no other choice, Heri resigned himself to the fact he'd have to negotiate with Tom. He sat on the scarred wooden floor beside his bed, ready to slam the Diary shut at a moment's notice, and carefully flicked it open.

Nothing – that was a good sign.

'You left so abruptly after our last conversation. Are you alright, Herido?' Heri could just see Tom's smug, self-satisfied face, but supposed if the situation was reversed he'd be feeling pretty good about it too. No, it irked him more that Tom assumed he wouldn't simply destroy the Diary. While corporal, Tom had accepted Heri was a force to be reckoned with, but apparently saw no danger. He couldn't know him that well, could he?

When he didn't respond straight away Tom continued: 'It's too late. I have you now.'

Heri smirked darkly at the blank page. 'It's not even close to being too late. You must know I have things at my disposal that can destroy you. I'd hate to do it, but I will destroy this Diary before I allow you to drain me. I am not going to sacrifice myself for your little crusade.'

There was a brief pause before Tom responded, trying to change the subject a little after he decided it was best not to let Herido think on it too much. 'I am curious about how I can make you bleed. Do you have any theories?' He was sure the boy's family would have a few.

'None that I'd care to share.' Heri replied easily. He was nervous as to why Tom wasn't going in for the kill, that he wasn't trying to take as much power as possible while he had the opportunity.

As if reading his thoughts, there was a quick, but violent, surge of power that left him fuzzy for a moment. If it hadn't passed so quickly, he would have closed the book.

'That does leave us at an impasse, though doesn't it?' Ah, now Heri understood – Tom was making a point. 'I wish to break free from these pages and complete my work, though you will not tolerate my using your power to do this. For reasons unknown you wish to learn from me, but I will tell you nothing while you continue to deny me. So give me to someone I can use, and maybe once I have a body once again we can talk – as we did during my recent visit. Give me back to Ginny Weasley: I would despise having to take the time working on someone new - listening to their pathetic dreams and worries!'

Dammit, Heri thought, Tom was good. He knew what he wanted and he knew how to push Heri into giving it to him. Heri knew that Tom would never stop trying to break free, and that he'd therefore have to always be tiringly vigilant every time he opened the Diary. He could keep the Diary hidden safely away of course, but wasn't sure he could trust himself not to go back to it. It was just too powerful. He also knew it would be a waste of time to keep trying to reach Tom through the Diary – that talking to Tom face to face on equal ground was the easiest way deal with him.

He closed the book without giving his answer, but had decided to hand it over to someone Tom could use. He didn't care in the least about Tom's ambitions in the school, but knew he couldn't let him return to Voldemort – not yet: He couldn't take on the Dark Lord anytime soon, but having sixteen year old Tom Riddle around would be interesting.

He decided to just stop thinking about it and see how things went.


On board the Hogwarts Express, Heri lit a cigar as he listened to the excited chatter around him.

"Really, Heri, do you have to smoke that in here? It stinks!" Hermione moaned when a plume of smoke hit her face.

"Oh, it's good for you." He said with a smile, trying not to laugh at the disgusted faces around him. He turned to the window and a small hole appeared in the glass, which effectively drew out the smoke. "Happy now?"

"Ecstatic." She replied dead pan. All his friends queried why they hadn't been invited over for the holiday rituals this year, but instead of telling all he chose a half-truth.

"We already had company."

He was so caught up in catching up with his friends that the Diary didn't cross his mind until he reached the carriages and saw Luna softly petting a thestral. He grinned, thinking about how agonising it would be for Tom to have to listen and get to know the peculiar girl. She would do. Unfortunately, when he tried to give her the Diary, she gave him an unnervingly knowing smile.

"But you made a promise, Herido." And just like that she walked away, leaving him to wonder what she meant. When he did realise he wanted to kick himself: why would he promise Snape his actions wouldn't lead to any deaths this year?! If he gave the Diary to a student, it was likely some poor muggleborn would end up dead. Finding out how Luna knew about that promise could wait for another time.

He shared his troubles with his friends during the ride to the castle.

"Well, what about inaction?" Blaise offered, both intriguing and confusing Heri. See this, he went on: "If you're concerned your actions may lead to someone getting killed, do nothing." He learned forward, away from the others and whispered into Herido's ear: "The twins say Ginny has been beside herself since losing the Diary, trying to come up with ways to get it back, so let her. Do nothing if she tries and let her steal it."

Heri's pleased smile made even his friends uncomfortable. And Tom had said his friends were worthless!