25
He opened the diary gently, reverentially. His second Horcrux. Everything he wrote in it had faded, assimilated by the part of his soul within. He still updated it, hidden away in the Room of Requirement. He couldn't keep it in the Chamber of Secrets anymore. It had been hard enough sneaking back in to retrieve it once. Sneaking into the girls' bathroom would be too difficult now. He picked up a quill and methodically began writing down everything important that had happened that day. What an important day. He'd gotten away with it. He'd even been awarded a 'special services to the school' award.
'Even so, Dumbledore is still watching me closely. Everyone else believes that the half-giant murdered Myrtle. I almost want to laugh at them, but that would somewhat expose me. I am more convinced than ever that my basilisk must sleep again, until long into the future when I can awake her once again and continue Salazar's work.'
He watched as the ink sank into the paper and faded away. He didn't expect a reply. There was no point. What could the memory tell him that he didn't know himself? He closed the plain leather book and held it for a moment, then slipped it into the drawer of the old desk, and sealed the drawer with a spell. No one would find it, even if they discovered the room.
Tom unconsciously slowed as he passed the girls' bathroom. He could hear the sobs even from outside. Myrtle the weeping girl, bawling her eyes out even in death. Curse the wretch. Even dead, he couldn't be certain that she'd stay quiet. Though admittedly he was being paranoid. She'd only know that Penny liked him. She hadn't once mentioned that he liked her in return, and he thought that he had behaved in a way that would prevent any such suspicions arising. But even so, it irked him. He had planned to get rid of a muggleborn, create his horcrux, and silence her inconvienient prattle all in one go. Two out of three wasn't bad, but it wasn't perfect.
And Lord Voldemort had decided that perfection was to be achieved.