"The only difference between the saint and the sinner is that every saint has a past, and every sinner has a future."
-Oscar Wilde
Harry tried to sleep in the guest room, he really did, except his mind would not cease its incessant yammering.
Something is not right, information is being withheld from you, Dumbledore is a conniving fool, how could you just accept that and leave, what is the prophecy, what is the prophecy, what is the prophecy-
Drawing the covers from his borrowed bed, he sat up with a huff and rubbed his eyes. These thoughts… did not feel natural. It was as though someone was throwing adhesive stones at the glass walls of his mind to stick and torment him. They were not his own.
The only explanation Harry could think of what somehow the connection he had with Voldemort. But with that thought only came further questions- why hadn't those thoughts intruded upon his mind earlier? Why now?
Or perhaps, it had to do with Riddle. Now that he thought about it, that explanation seemed more likely, with the diary's activity and what Ron had seen on the Marauder's Map.
And the whole matter of Karkaroff simply made things worse. And Dumbledore letting him stay in the castle even when it was obvious Voldemort had made him put his name in the Goblet of Fire? Apparently, he'd snitched on the Death Eaters, but Harry wasn't convinced- He may have only been trying to save his own hide. Harry remembered Pettigrew in that moment and cringed inwardly.
But then again, Karkaroff's name wasn't the only thing Ron had seen on the map. Maybe he shouldn't have been surprised that Riddle was up to something, but the fact that his name appeared was alarming, to say the least. The diary had been acting up recently, after all. Could Riddle… be trying to open the Chamber of Secrets again? He couldn't possess anyone, as far as Harry knew, but he'd been far too active for comfort.
It wouldn't hurt if he just had one simple conversation with him. He was only able to possess Ginny after talking to her the majority of the school year. It would be fine.
Harry grabbed his cloak and the map and made his way back to Gryffindor Tower.
As he crept into his dorm room, Harry found every single bed occupied, curtains drawn. His feet touched lightly to the floor and he had nearly no light. Looking at the clock on his own bedside table, it was just past 3 a.m. In approximately three hours, he, Hermione, and Ron would be transported back to the future- or rather, their present.
That was enough time for him to interrogate Riddle.
He crouched down to the floor and slowly opened his trunk. A window above let in some light, but the waning sliver of moon did not provide much. He could only just make out his hands as they unclicked the mechanism of his trunk. Inside were his books, just where he remembered he had left them. As his fingers dragged across the fabric feeling for the hidden compartment and the book inside, he felt the lack of any object in the compartment and drew his hand back.
Probably near your defense book again.
Harry rummaged through his books again, and there it was. A thought occurred to him at that moment and he flicked through the pages of the diary and turned it over. The Marauder's Map was not inside.
Remembering the map in his own pocket, he pulled it out.
"I solemnly swear I am up to no good."
Bunched up in the dormitory were several names- Ron, Neville, Dean, Seamus, Harry, Harry, Riddle, Riddle, Riddle-
Harry's hands clenched at the corner of the parchment.
Why were there three Tom Riddles-
Something was wrong, very, very wrong. A wave of anxiety washed over him and he felt as though someone were watching him.
He gulped as he reached for a quill and dipped it into a pot of ink. The quill hovered over the diary, glistening black liquid dripping onto its pages. It evaporated within a second's time.
His hand shook and tensed and it was almost painful to hold it in position to write and he had to squint to see his words, but he wrote. "Tom Riddle."
The wait was deadly. Silence pounded in Harry's ears and he could hear his own heartbeat in his chest. It was unnerving the way his gut wrenched at the thought of Riddle's response and what he was thinking-
"I see you have come by my diary. May I ask who this is?" came in that same elegant cursive, so quick, so seemingly thoughtless, except Harry knew that Riddle must have been waiting for the day someone wrote in the diary once more. He probably had those very words prepared for months in advance.
His quill pressed sharply into the page of the diary. "Harry Potter."
Another pause. Seconds passed and Harry's hand hovered over the diary, gripping his quill.
Long strokes of ink appeared on the page once more. "Hello again, Harry. Tell me, did you keep my diary all this time?"
Harry blinked, annoyance furling in his chest. "Yes, but I'm sure you already know that."
"I did not. For all I knew, you left my diary down in the Chamber of Secrets. I'm touched you took me with you, even after our little disagreement."
"Quit lying, Riddle. And that was more than a disagreement, you tried to kill me!" The words Harry wrote came quickly and his handwriting was barely legible. "I don't know what you're doing, but it needs to stop."
"I apologize, Harry, but be aware it was not personal in the slightest. However, I do take offense that you would think I am lying. I have no reason to lie, for I am helpless within this book, in no small part due to yourself."
"You were the one to put yourself in this situation with your damn book and your trying to kill the muggleborns. And I find it hard to believe you are completely helpless."
"My, it seems as though you've become much more… quick to jump at accusations, Harry. I'm flattered you have so much faith in me, but there is truly nothing I can or could have been doing in the time since our last altercation. You will find my energy reserves are vastly depleted," Riddle's last word trailed, as though he were thinking. "That sword did remarkable damage. Perhaps it was only amplified by the power of its wielder."
Harry frowned. Flattery had worked once, but not not again.
"The diary has been moving. I know you're doing something." The pressure he placed on his quill made his words thick with ink.
"Moving? How so?"
He wasn't going to play dumb now, was he? "I always put the diary in one compartment- never anywhere else. Except now, it keeps attaching itself to my other books. Imagine that."
"How fascinating. Regretfully so, I have no explanation for that."
"Of course you don't. And I'm sure you have nothing to do with my map moving, do you?"
"Map?"
"It was wedged in between the pages of the diary, for Merlin's sake."
"While I can feel whatever touches the diary, I am afraid I cannot see it. The only way I can tell what is written inside is through a charm of my own creation."
Nothing. Literally, nothing. He was denying everything and what frustrated Harry worse was that he felt inclined to believe him. He supposed he had one more shot.
"Fine. But I'd like to see you attempt to explain this-"
"I can surely attempt."
Harry bit back a frown. "I have a map of Hogwarts that shows the location of every single person within the grounds. It can only be opened if you know the incantation and it can only be closed if you know the closing line."
"And this was within my pages? Fascinating. How did you come into possession of such an item? Or did you create it yourself?"
"My father and his friends made it. Anyways, there's three of you on it at this very moment."
"Three?"
"I was expecting two at the most since I am currently using a time turner for other reasons. I can see two of myself. But for there to be three of you is completely unexplainable- and I gave the map to my friend earlier, and apparently, your name follows me wherever I go."
"And you keep the diary in that secret compartment of yours?"
"Every day. This is the first time I have taken the diary out in almost two years."
"Am I correct to assume that the three copies of my name on the map correspond to my diary, you, and the past-you? And your own name appears, alongside my name?"
...That was a quick assumption. How could he possibly guess something like that? "Yes, actually. What made you think that."
"Simply the fact that you said my name followed you wherever you went. A logical assumption, is it not?"
Harry supposed it was, but it seemed as though something were missing. Riddle knew something he didn't.
"And how do I know you haven't been lying this entire time and that you actually are doing something? Like, trying to possess me, or whatever?"
"Yet you haven't written in my diary for such a long time. I don't think I could possess you at this very moment, even if I wished."
"I find that hard to believe. What other explanation do you have?"
Riddle's words came sharp and pointed, the letters so disconnected they almost looked like print. "No particularly good explanation."
"I think you're lying."
He is.
"Well, I'm sorry you feel that way. Maybe you should work on being less suspicious of others."
I would advise you to ignore that.
Harry was about ready to throw the diary in the Black Lake. Dumbledore had been enough, but now Riddle- Even that order seemed wrong. Everyone was withholding some kind of information from him and it was driving him crazy. Coupled with the Triwizard Tournament, and even Voldemort possibly returning, he felt ready to explode under stress.
"I do wish we could have spoken more before our altercation, however, Harry," Riddle's smooth cursive came once more, just as Harry was planning on shutting the book and throwing it back in his trunk compartment. "I do believe we could have, as I have said before, learned many things from each other."
Well, that's difficult to do when you're purposefully withholding information.
He's just defending himself, another voice in his head whispered. Rightfully so, or so he believes.
Harry let out a sigh and looked at the clock- 4:29 a.m. For some reason, he didn't feel sleepy in the slightest, but hyper aware of his surroundings. Was it 5:00 or 6:00 that he would be transported back to the future? He supposed he'd figure out soon enough.
"If you still want to talk to me, I need your help with something."
"And what would that something be?"
"Someone entered my name into the Triwizard Tournament. Some lackee of a Dark Lord. I'm only fourteen and the first event is later this month."
There was a pause before Riddle began writing again. "Well, that is quite troubling, I would expect. Have you any idea of what the first task will be?"
"We're supposed to enter in blind."
"That won't do. Find out. Otherwise, I cannot help you." Riddle's words ended abruptly before beginning again. "Our efforts would be far too scattered if I attempted to teach you any and everything I would expect to be useful. Research previous tasks held in the past tournaments. You are the Boy Who Lived, are you not? Have you no connections that could possibly aid you?"
Harry paused and blinked at the diary. He did not recall telling Riddle that bit of information. "How did you know that?"
"The young girl who had been writing in my diary before you. Whatever her name was."
Rage bled into his eyes. "Her name was Ginny and thanks to you, she's lost almost all her magic now. You could show some remorse."
"I could. Magic should, after all, be cherished and protected. However, it was her fault for allowing herself into such a situation in the first place. A pureblood, of all wizards, should be aware of the dangers present in unknown magical objects. It is a sad day when a witch forgets her roots. Although, I believe her family may have been partly to blame."
"The Weasleys were the first real family I ever knew, Riddle," Harry scribbled out, words forming chicken scratch. "So back off. They're wonderful people, something I can't say about you."
"I do not need to be wonderful, as you put it," was written, letters fluid and extra curved. Harry could tell Riddle was amused and it pissed him off even further. "I simply need to be great, and I am. Now, if you are done bowing to your inferiors, I believe you should focus on winning the Triwizard Tournament, if not for your own survival, but your own dignity. "
Harry slammed the diary shut and glared at it. Why did Riddle have to be so… ugh. At least last time, he had the sense to hide all his negative opinions. Although, Harry supposed, you can't see anyone much uglier after they've tried to kill you.
He huffed and slouched over, reaching over to the map he had laid on the floor.
"Mischief managed."
He folded the map and decided he might as well put it in the diary. With another glance at the clock, he made his way down Gryffindor Tower and back to Myrtle's bathroom.
The next morning- or was it the next, next morning?- came and Harry found that the enthusiasm that met him in Gryffindor did not extend to the rest of Hogwarts. He became the brunt of many awkward, searching stares and annoying questions. No one seemed to believe there was any possibility of him not putting his name in the Goblet of Fire. Considering how angry Riddle had made him the previous night, Harry seemed to emit an aura that radiated 'stay away'.
The reaction towards the real Hogwarts champion, Cassius Warrington, was also… odd to say the least. While houses before had avoided Slytherin students like the plague for fear of the serpent's bite, most now tried to maintain a cautiously respectful front toward the champion.
Warrington himself was… again, quite odd. Harry had never paid him much attention in previous years and had written him off as a blockhead quidditch player. If he were to imagine anyone being Hogwarts' champion, he wouldn't have pictured Warrington. He always had a blank expression on his face and only seemed to be able to focus on the quaffles and hoops- any other player who dare strayed into his path had to be prepared to be bulldozed over.
Why had the Goblet of Fire chosen him, of all people? Harry knew that Angelina Johnson had also put her name in- what did Warrington have that she didn't?
Never had he felt like he knew so little in his life. And what was worse, he knew the people that knew what he wanted to know. How he was supposed to convince Dumbledore to tell him the prophecy, or even more difficult, how to get Riddle to divulge what he actually knew about the map, he had no clue how to do so. In the latter case, the danger was much more immediate and it left Harry feeling uneasy. Riddle was up to something- was Harry being possessed without even knowing?
Those thoughts that had been occurring in his head… they couldn't be Riddle's, could they? But he thought he could remember hearing them when he was talking to Riddle in the diary itself.
And then there was the matter of Professor Dumbledore. There was some doubt that lingered within Harry about the whole situation. Dumbledore had implied it was for his own protection that he didn't hear the prophecy. Harry had a hard time believing that, but somehow was brought back to thinking of the Mirror of Erised- the only time he had known for certain that Dumbledore had lied to him. What exactly made Dumbledore decide to lie versus avoiding the question, as he did at the end of that year and now during his fourth year?
And then there was the matter of his magic. Harry had been avoiding doing any extra spells, for fear of screwing things up even further, but it was necessary for his classes. He could only imagine how he would be able to function during the Tournament- it was a magical contest, after all. He was probably expected to use magic. Not only was he going to be put up against wizards years his senior with more experience and a greater array of knowledge, they had actual functioning magic. Nothing had appeared wrong with Harry's wand during the weighing of the wands following the calling of the champion's names. The problem lied within Harry himself, somehow.
Maybe he would have to take Dumbledore's advice and learn how to control it. But first, it may have been wise to research previous events like Riddle had suggested.
When he brought up the idea to Hermione at breakfast a few days later, she was eager to head to the library. They instantly headed towards the Magical Sports section. It took some wading through various Quidditch books, but eventually they found a few books regarding the Triwizard Tournament, enough to have quite the thick stack on the table in front of them.
"So, we're only looking for mentions of what kind of events are typically in the tournament," said Harry, looking at Hermione across the table.
"Got it," Hermione nodded. "Maybe there might also be something in the rules that might disqualify you from competing," she bit her lip, eyes searching Harry's.
He pursed his lips. "Maybe. We can hope."
They were sitting in a pair of armchairs with a table in between, set aside from the most of the others tables but still in view. The library was quiet that morning, as to be expected, but some students could still be heard whispering in the background. The pair of Gryffindors skimmed through book after book and compiled a list of many of the types of events that had been in past tournaments. It wasn't looking very good for Harry.
"A maze of acromantula nests, tracking down yetis, Abraxan racing-" he listed.
Hermione blinked in realisation. "The first events seem to always deal with a magical creature of some sort."
"Well, that's something."
"Maybe- oh, Harry, have you told Sirius about all this yet?"
"Shoot," Harry shook his head. "I forgot."
"I was about to say, maybe you could ask Professor Lupin if he could point you to any resources regarding magical creatures," she hesitated. "But you should speak to Sirius first."
"Hold on, I think I have the 2-way mirror in my bag," said Harry. He reached down and pulled his bag onto his lap and fished the mirror out of one of its pockets.
"You can probably go into one of the study rooms," Hermione nodded over to a door. "I'll make sure no one walks in and keep looking for some mention of disqualification while you're at it."
Harry grinned. "Thanks, I'll be just a minute."
He walked across the room towards the door to one of the rooms when he heard his name called.
Well, not quite called, but jeered.
"Well, look who it is. Potter, the unwanted champion and attention seeker extraordinaire."
He didn't need to turn to recognize that voice, but did anyway. There Malfoy sat, surrounded by a handful of Slytherins.
"Being the Boy Who Just Couldn't Die and the Prophet's golden boy just wasn't enough, was it? You know, I wrote my father and said you wouldn't last 10 minutes in the first task. You know what he said?" Malfoy laughed dryly and didn't wait for a response. "He thinks you won't last ten seconds."
"I'd say I'm flattered you care enough to write home about me, Malfoy, but I'd be lying."
Malfoy flushed and sputtered a weak, "Shut up, Potter." He narrowed his eyes and cleared his throat. "An awful lot of lying you've been doing recently, haven't you?" Malfoy sneered and turned to some of the other Slytherins at the table. Surprisingly, a few Durmstrang students sat at the table as well, including a very focused Krum with his face in a book. He looked up curiously as Harry glanced over at him. When their eyes met, Krum lowered his lids and looked past him.
Harry drew his eyes back to Malfoy and glared. "I don't need to explain myself to you," he said, turning back to the door and stepping through. If he wasn't in a library, he might have slammed the door behind him.
No bookshelves lined the walls of the study room, just cubicles and tables. Harry grabbed a chair on the far side of the room and brought out the 2-way mirror. His own reflection looked back at it as he held it in front of him and cleared his throat.
"Sirius Black."
His image distorted and within the frame of the mirror, all light seemed to be heard an exclamation come from somewhere within and the image shifted.
"Harry!" came Sirius' voice and he soon appeared in the mirror. "How is everything? I'm glad the mirrors still work after all this time." He initially grinned, but his face fell in concern at Harry's expression. "Did something happen?"
"You haven't seen it in the Daily Prophet yet?"
Sirius scratched the back of his neck. "Well, I can't stand to read that rubbish every day, but I can get a copy-"
"No, it's fine," Harry shook his head. "I can just tell you."
After explaining the situation, Sirius was understandably angry.
"And no one thought to put any sort of disqualification in if someone put another's name in?!" Harry had never seen Sirius so… upset before.
"I don't know- it's some sort of magical contract. Both Bagman and Crouch said there was no backing out of it-"
The background behind Sirius began to shift and bounce as though he was moving. "Well, what's stopping you from just not showing up to the events? This is ridiculous- you're only 14!" Sirius sighed and the background stopped moving. "Wizards older than you have died in the Triwizard Tournament, for Merlin's sake. And Karkaroff was a death eater in my time- how has he not been sent to Azkaban again?!"
"Again?"
"He only got out for ratting out other death eaters. I suppose that's why Dumbledore has Moody teaching now, given his record… but what concerns me the most is this prophecy…" his voice trailed and he frowned.
"How does that even work?" asked Harry.
"A seer can see a prophecy, but typically does not remember its contents." Sirius furrowed his brow. "Someone has to be present to record it and the recording is sent to the Department of Mysteries. It is held there for documentation, normally including who it is about."
Harry blinked. "Well, can't we just go to the ministry and see it?"
Sirius sighed and shook his head. "Only authorized personnel can enter the Department of Mysteries and only those involved in the prophecy can touch it. Why it was designed like that, I haven't the slightest clue, but they sure as hell weren't thinking straight if you ask me." He let out an irritated noise. "I think I need to speak to Dumbledore myself. Let him know what I think of all this."
"Maybe you'll be able to get more out of him than I could." Harry pursed his lips and suddenly remembered something. "Also, I was wondering… could you arrange to get Remus over so I could talk to him about something?"
Sirius didn't even blink before giving affirmation. "Of course, anything you need, Harry. I can send you an owl when I know he's coming over."
Harry gave a small grin. "Thanks." He glanced up at the clock in the room. "I think I should probably get going now. I'll talk to you soon, Sirius."
"Soon," Sirius nodded and smiled back at him. "Keep up with your schoolwork and if you can't, at least use your free time to stir up some trouble, eh?"
"Of course," Harry laughed. The mirror's image of Sirius soon swirled and faded to be replaced by Harry's own reflection once more. He tucked it safely into one of his bag's pockets when the door to the study suddenly opened and shut softly.
Looking up, he frowned at who he saw. A very bored looking Draco Malfoy leaned against the door with his arms crossed.
"Potter."
Harry narrowed his eyes. Wasn't Hermione out there to make sure no one came in? Maybe she forgot. She probably got distracted while reading and just didn't notice.
"Out of the way, Malfoy," said Harry.
Malfoy smirked and didn't move from his position. "Not very polite today, I see. Considering the information I have, I'd be more… respectful, if I were you."
"Sod off." Harry crossed his arms and stood in front of the door Malfoy was blocking. He couldn't very easily step around him without getting physical.
Malfoy's smirk fell, and he just looked annoyed then. "Aren't you going to ask what I know?"
"Honestly, I don't care about anything you have to say. Now," he sighed. "Could you please move away from the bloody door?" he strained his voice attempting to be polite in his words.
"No," Malfoy huffed, clenching his fists in his still crossed arms. "I can't. Or at least I won't until you ask me what I know. Come on, Potter. Don't make this difficult."
Okay… what the hell was his problem?
You might as well hear him out.
Harry frowned. If Riddle was trying to possess him somehow and those intrusive thoughts kept wheedling their way into his mind, he was going to go crazy.
"Fine, fine." He held up his hands and gritted his teeth, "What do you know, Malfoy?"
"Wouldn't you like to know, Potter? What would you give me for telling you?"
He didn't even want to know in the first place. Harry felt like tearing his hair out or maybe even Malfoy's hair, but kept calm. "How about… I don't hex you where you stand now?"
Malfoy glared. "I highly doubt anyone else in Hogwarts will be willing to tell you," he lowered his voice, "what the first event will be. If you can't come up with something now, you will owe me in the future."
You do not want to owe a debt to a Malfoy. There may be another way to find out what he knows.
Harry found himself agreeing, when a thought popped into his head. "Why would you want to tell me and not your own Slytherin champion?"
"Warrington already knows, of course. I think Krum is the only one who doesn't know the first event yet." He glanced toward the door.
"And that Fleur girl?"
Malfoy just smirked, a glint in his eyes. "If I told you how she knew, then you'd know. Information has its price, Potter. Now," he said as held out his hand, "A favor for a favor?"
Harry looked down at the hand presented in front of him and remembered his very first day of Hogwarts.
Don't do it, Potter, I'm telling you this now-
"I could… tutor you?" he said painfully. "In Defense?"
"Just because you're the top of the class in Defense doesn't mean I need your help there," Malfoy scoffed. His eyes flickered down to Harry's chest then back up to meet his eyes. "What about… That locket of yours?" He grinned maliciously.
No.
Harry felt his stomach lurch at the thought of giving up the locket. He had no idea when he had become so attached to it, when he had started wearing it everyday, when the last time he took it off was, but the days since he found it blurred in his memory.
This is a test, Harry. He wants to know its true worth. Do not give him the slightest inkling of its value.
But what the hell was the locket's value? And if that was truly Riddle's voice inside his head, why would he want to keep the locket so badly?
He tried to clear his face of any expression other than annoyance, trying to seem confused. "Why would you want this?" Harry lifted the locket from his chest and Malfoy's eyes followed. He covered it with his fist. "That doesn't seem very fair to you… What are you playing at?"
Malfoy blinked and shrugged. "You never seemed one for extravagances such as jewelry, Potter. Needless to say, I was curious."
Curious? More like scheming, the slimy git.
I concur.
Okay, there was absolutely no way he was imagining it now- that voice could only belong to Riddle. To think, he'd lie to Harry's face right when he asked him about it… well, he wasn't surprised, in all actuality.
"It's an heirloom."
"Sentimental, as always. Never know when to quit with the self-righteousness, do you?" Malfoy sighed dramatically. "In that case, you still owe me a favor, if you want me to tell you." He gave Harry a pointed look. He was almost looking past Harry in an attempt of disinterest, but his body was still rigid in front of the door.
"Fine." Harry threw his hands up. "Now, what is it that you wanted to tell me?"
"Shake on it, Potter, and not only will I tell you, I'll help you." He held out his hand once more.
You're going to regret this. There is no possibly good reason why he would wish to help you win.
Maybe. But if the Malfoys were known for being Death Eaters and Voldemort wanted to kill him in the tournament, why would Malfoy want to help him? Unless… he was being kept in the dark. There was also the possibility… it made Harry cringe to think of it, but maybe they were trying to work against Voldemort? Lucius Malfoy had only barely weaseled his way out of Azkaban, from his understanding. If Voldemort was as weak as he had been Harry's first year, then he could see the Malfoys not wanting to side with the Dark once again. Maybe he was trying to turn over a new leaf, in the twisted sort of way a Malfoy does?
His head ached at all the thoughts running through it. Harry gripped his hand and shook it.
Malfoy smirked. "It's dragons."
"Dammit."
