The soul fragment of Tom Riddle Jr. was not truly sentient.

He was alive, but things like time and isolation did not reach him. His main purpose was to lie in wait until the larger soul had need of him. He could wait for fifty years or fifty thousand, it would make no difference to him. Eventually, he would be used or destroyed, and then he would meld back into the larger soul. Any knowledge or insight he had gained while separated would belong to the main soul. He had no real desire to escape the confines of the diary, for an aspect of the Horcrux's magic was to want to be separate until the purpose of preventing death was achieved. No, the fragment's only purpose was to be of use to the main soul. From what the Horcrux understood, the main soul was in need of him. So he needed to get strong, become corporeal, and find Lord Voldemort.

Most of all, he needed to present Lord Voldemort with Harriet Potter.

Oh, Harriet.

How many times had he lain awake at night wondering who 'Liar' was? It had been so exciting to think that his future witch would be able to see through him so quickly. Tom Riddle had presented the perfect picture, the ideal young wizard. He had longed for 'Liar' to appear just so that his true face would be known to one person. Someone he could terrorize and posses completely.

He already did possess her. He had reached deep into Harriet's brain and magic. Had explored every nook and cranny. Had found himself in her deepest parts. It had sent a shiver up his spine. She was all marked up from him already. From the lightning bolt on her forehead, his words hidden on her wrist, to the deepest reaches of her soul.

He wanted to look at her, to add more marks to the girl and show her that she was so fully possessed by Lord Voldemort that it didn't matterwhat else she was. First and foremost, she was his.

It wouldn't be very long. Soon, he would present Harriet Potter to Lord Voldemort. She would be used for the purpose of glorifying the dark- as it should be. The future beacon of Light would be used to flood Europe with darkness. He just had to get strong…

It was tedious work. The initial burst of magic that he had gotten from Harriet had been intoxicating. Oh, what he wouldn't give to still be leaching off her magic. It had been so close to his own, truly like mother's milk. He would be corporeal by now if he had been able to keep on with her.

But he couldn't hurt her. If he were to keep draining her magic it would kill her, and he couldn't have that. No, Lord Voldemort would have great need of his little soulmate. With Harriet Potter, the main soul would have no difficulty returning to its all-powerful state. The Horcrux might need to be absorbed in the process, or perhaps there would be enough power for the Horcrux to be returned to the Diary. Either way was perfectly fine, so long as the overarching plans of Lord Voldemort were achieved.

He would have to placate himself with weaker magic for now. He could take from Ginny Weasley, but not as much as he would like. The girl still had to function in class. She couldn't be noticeably different, or Dumbledore might start to suspect that she was being manipulated. The bulk of Ginny's magic would have to be the final push to corporeal form, but it wouldn't be enough to completely achieve it. If she were a witch past her age of majority… well, then she wouldn't be nearly so easy to control. A witch under the age of thirteen was much more biddable.

Thus, the Chamber had to be opened. The Basilisk's deadly gaze could be used to drain Hogwarts students. Petrified or dead, it didn't matter. Either way, there would be a shock of magic as the child met the gaze of the Basilisk, and Tom could use that magical outburst to strengthen himself.

The cat was a good start, to be sure that the magic worked the way that he had hypothesized all those years ago. The mangy kneazle had enough magic for Tom to test his theories without escalating too fast. Dumbledore was gone. Harriet was gone. It was a perfect night to let the Basilisk out. Then with his message, to stir up a little fear that always made the magic taste sweeter, he retreated to the shadows once more. Let them wonder if it was true, let them stew. The next attack would bring him such sweet magic. It would be glorifying to use those little light users. To let them give up their magic in service to the Dark, the way they should. It was the Dark's right to take from the Light.

He would take and take and take.

Then he would present Harriet to Lord Voldemort and be gratified in knowing he had succeeded in his one true purpose.

To deliver the Light into the hands of Darkness.


Harri was feeling more than a little lost.

The Samhain revelations had escalated the feelings of anxiety that had been coursing through her since the beginning of term. Lady of Light. It was the most ridiculous thing that she had ever heard. She wished that Dumbledore was wrong. Harri didn't want to be Lady of Light. She didn't want to have power over other light users, keep up magical traditions, or have yet another tie to the Dark Lord.

What had Harri done to deserve this?

All she had ever wanted was a safe place. Friends, family, people who didn't hate the sight of her. Harri had never wanted power, had never wanted strangers to look at her, had never wanted to be known.

This whole thing would make more sense if it were someone else. A brilliant witch, a powerful witch, a witch who could control her magic.

A witch that wasn't Harriet Potter.

Harri had passed out twice due to unexplained magical exhaustion in the last two months. Harri was still just as liable to cause an explosion in class as get a spell correct. Harri still flinched at a sudden touch. She was not in any position to lead a faction of the magical community.

The days had ticked by slowly, and Harri felt like she was in a haze. Hermione kept talking about the Chamber of Secrets, and Harri was trying to help, truly. Her mind just couldn't concentrate. It was a hoax, it had to be. All that had happened was a cat got attacked, Hermione was just working herself up over nothing.

All Harri could think about was Samhain. Next would be Yule, then Beltane, and then Midsummer. It would be a ritualistic cycle. She was traped. What if the Dark Lord returned? Eventually, Dumbledore would die and Harri would take his place. She would have to confront the Dark Lord four times a year. It was unconscionable.

Harri spent most of the first week of November avoiding her friends. She didn't want to talk about any of this. It would mean revealing her soulmate to Neville, Ron, and Hermione, an impossibility. She didn't even want to talk to Snape about this.

After Samhain, she had checked in with her guardian only to find him busy planning out ingredient procurement for the Mandrake potion. It had been easy to slide into potioneering mode instead of talking about her future. Snape, blissfully involved in several projects, took Harri's renewed dedication as a sign of maturity instead of something being wrong.

She would just keep to herself, keep her head down, and get through the next few months. Gloomily, Harri wondered if she should start avoiding her friends all together. Wouldn't they be safer away from her? The more alone Harri seemed the less likely someone would get hurt because of her.


Harri woke early on Saturday morning and lay for a while thinking about the coming Quidditch match. She was nervous, mainly at the thought of what Wood would say if Gryffindor lost, but also at the idea of being on public display. Her desire to be invisible had skyrocketed. After half an hour of lying there with her insides churning, she got up, dressed, and went down to breakfast early, where she found the rest of the Gryffindor team huddled at the long, empty table, all looking uptight and not speaking much.

As eleven o'clock approached, the whole school started to make its way down to the Quidditch stadium. It was a muggy sort of day with a hint of thunder in the air. Ron and Neville came hurrying over to wish Harri good luck as she entered the locker rooms. Hermione was planning to miss the game in favor of staying in the library.

The team pulled on their scarlet Gryffindor robes, then sat down to listen to Wood's usual pre-match pep talk.

"Slytherin has better brooms than us," he began. "No point denying it. But we've got better people on our brooms. We've trained harder than they have, we've been flying in all weather-" ("Too true," muttered George Weasley. "I haven't been properly dry since August") "- and we're going to make them rue the day they let that little bit of slime, Malfoy, buy his way onto their team."

Chest heaving with emotion, Wood turned to Harri.

"It'll be down to you, Harri, to show them that a Seeker has to have something more than a rich father. Get to that Snitch before Malfoy or die trying, Harri, because we've got to win today, we've got to."

"So no pressure, Harri," said Fred, winking at her.

As they walked out onto the pitch, a roar of noise greeted them; mainly cheers, because Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were anxious to see Slytherin beaten, but the Slytherins in the crowd made their boos and hisses heard, too. Madam Hooch, the Quidditch teacher, asked Flint and Wood to shake hands, which they did, giving each other threatening stares and gripping rather harder than was necessary.

"On my whistle," said Madam Hooch. "Three… two… one…"

With a roar from the crowd to speed them upward, the fourteen players rose toward the leaden sky. Harri flew higher than any of them, squinting around for the Snitch.

It started to rain, but otherwise, it was a very quiet game. The stands were muted in the gray clouds. Harri lost herself in the feel of her broom, in the way flying made her feel as she sped from one side of the pitch to the other looking for that glint of gold.

Even Malfoy shouting the occasional jab didn't bother her.

She needed to concentrate and just find the Snitch. Slytherin's superior brooms were clearly doing the trick, as they currently were in the lead by sixty points.

The rain began to fall more heavily. She slowed down considerably so that she could see through the dark sheets of water.

"Broom break down, Potter? It's to be expected," yelled Malfoy as Harri came to a standstill trying to see through the thick rainfall. She glared over at Mafloy in annoyance, when she saw it- the Golden Snitch. It was hovering inches above Malfoy's left ear- and Malfoy- busy laughing at Harri, hadn't seen it.

For an agonizing moment, Harri hung in midair, not daring to speed toward Malfoy in case he looked up and saw the Snitch.

But this wasn't a time for indecision. She dived for the sneering face below her and saw its eyes wider with fear. Malfoy thought Harri was attacking him.

"What the-" he gasped, careening out of Harri's way.

Harri took her hand off the broom and made a snatch; she felt her fingers close on the cold Snitch.


When Harri exited the locker room about an hour later, Snape was waiting for her looking very grim.

"Harriet, you need to come with me," he said.

"What? Is something wrong?" Harri asked, surprised. "Is it about the Runespoor potion? Because it shouldn't need me to stir it till tonight."

"It's not about the potion," said Snape looking paler than usual. "Just… just wait. I'll tell you before we go into the Hospital Wing."

"We're going to the Hospital Wing?"

"Harriet! Just follow me."

She felt a bolt of worry jolt down her back. She followed Snape back to the school and up the marble staircase. As they approached the Hospital Wing, Snape found his voice. "This will be a shock," he said. "There has been an attack."

Snape pushed the door open and she entered.

Madam Pomfrey was bending over a bed where a bushy haired girl was laying. In her stiff hands was one of Harri's silver combs.

"Hermione!" Harri gasped. Hermione lay utterly still, her eyes open and glassy.

"She was found in the dungeons," Snape told her. "My wards were activated and I went to investigate. I found her just a little down the corridor. After bringing her here, I realized that she used your hair to get through the wards. Your drawers were very clearly disturbed."

"I don't… what?" Harri asked, confusing filling her.

"Now I am well aware that there isn't a thing in your possession that could cause this," said Snape indicating her friend. "What I want to know, Harriet is why your friend felt the need to go snooping in your private things."

"I- I-... I don't know!" Harri said, trying not to cry. "She's been acting odd over the last few days, but I didn't pay attention! I was… I was in my own world. I have no idea why Hermione would break into your office."

"Who knew that Miss. Granger would not be attending the match?" Snape asked.

"I don't know. Everyone. She was talking about it at breakfast. She said that she wanted to do more research on the Chamber!"

Snape's brows furrowed.

"She said this in the Great Hall?"

"Yes, anyone could have heard her! Do you think a student did this?"

"I'm quite certain that this was not caused by any student, Harri," came Dumbledore's soft voice.

Harri jumped.

Snape gave the Headmaster a severe look. "You should go back to Gryffindor tower, Harriet," Snape told her, pushing her out the door.

"Wait, I want to see Hermione!"

"You can come back tomorrow. There are things I need to discuss with the Headmaster for now. We will talk," said Snape, giving her a meaningful look.

"Headmaster-," Snape began, but Harri couldn't hear as the Hospital Wing door swung shut. Well, that wouldn't do. Hermione was in there, what on Earth was going on? She pushed slightly on the door so that it opened a crack.

"- the Chamber of Secrets is indeed open again," Harri heard Dumbledore say.

Madam Pomfrey let out a little gasp.

"But Albus… surely... Who?"

"The question is not who," said Dumbledore, "The question is, how…"

Harri let the door close softly. How? The Chamber was real? Hermione had been right all along? Of course she had. Hermione was always right. Harri has been so wrapped up in her own fears and worries that she had completely neglected Hermione.

Harri made her way back towards Gryffindor tower.

Why had Hermione been going through her things? If Hermione had been fixated on the Chamber, why would she want to go through Harri's stuff? Harri didn't have anything to do with this.

But…

Hermione must think that Harri did. Why else would she break into Snape's private rooms? He would know if something else had been touched, but had only mentioned Harri's drawers. And someone… someone had known that Hermione was looking into the Chamber.

When she was down in the Dungeons, that someone had attacked her.

Was there an alternative explanation?

The shock began to wear off and Harri felt wet tears make there way down her cheeks. How was she going to tell Ron and Neville about this? How was she going to make it through the rest of the school year without Hermione?

The anxiety that seemed to haunt Harri like a ghost escalated. Her entire body began to shake. She slid down against the wall of the corridor.

She had been an abominable friend. Hermione had been scared, and Harri had ignored her. Now she was laying petrified in the Hospital Wing; her glassy unblinking eyes were fixed in Harri's mind.

Harri was going to be sick.

Why was this happening?


Draco Malfoy was met with the news that Hermione Granger had been attacked the day after he had lost his first Quidditch Match.

It was fitting.

Draco did not like Hermione Granger. She was bossy, a know-it-all, and shrill. She wasn't very pretty or refined. In fact, her bushy hair and buck teeth brought to mind a beaver. She was a Mudblood, and about the last person in the world Draco wanted to be tied to forever.

She was still his Soulmate.

Despite what his father thought, Draco still couldn't shake the feeling that magic must be onto something if it was her words on his wrist. He had stared at her neat handwriting every day for over a year.

It wasn't random. It had to mean something.

It had been a long summer of hearing how he was a disgrace to the Malfoy name. Second place in school. Tied to a Mudblood. Letters home from Snape about poor comportment.

It had been such a long summer that Draco had gotten rather angry with his father. He had snuck into his father's study to switch his favorite whiskey with one of much lower quality- that would show him- when he had heard footsteps.

Quickly, Draco had hidden under a desk. His parents had entered, speaking in hushed voices.

"Lucius, I really don't know about this. We should wait and see."

"There is no waiting. She needs to be gotten rid of."

"Don't you think that's a bit extreme? It's not a guarantee."

"And do you want to risk one around the house?"

"Of course I don't!" his mother had exclaimed. "But Draco knows better. He would never-"

"Just like your sister would never?"

His mother was very quiet after that.

"And what exactly are you planning to do?" she finally asked.

"I'm going to give her this," said his father. Draco couldn't see what it was, but it must have been something truly nasty because his mother gasped.

"Lucius, if word ever gets back to him …"

"You worry too much, my dear. He said that its purpose was to bring down the wrath of Slytherin on Hogwarts. I think that it's high time this uppity Mudblood sees what that wrath looks like."

Draco stood over Hermione's prone body. He was so angry. He had never been so angry in his life. How dare his father take this choice away from him. Magic had declared that Hermione Granger was his. Whether or not anything came of that was his choice. But like every other choice that should have been Draco's, from getting on the Quidditch team on talent or picking out his own ruddy owl, it had been taken away from him.

There were never choices for Malfoys. Just tradition.

"OYE, Malfoy! You get away from her." It was Weasley and Longbottom.

"Oh? And what will you do about it Weasel?" he drawled.

"I'll curse you again is what I'll do!" said the ginger boy, drawing his wand.

"Ron," said Longbottom, looking exasperated. "Just let it be. He's not going to do anything to her in the Hospital Wing."

Weasley lowered his wand and glared.

"What are you doing here Malfoy?" he asked, voice full of anger.

"The same thing as you, I imagine," Draco said. "Came to see what a Mudblood looks like turned to stone."

Longbottom hit him.

Malfoy landed on the ground hard. He looked up, surprised that the pudgy boy would dare. "She deserves better than you, Malfoy."

Did Hermione Granger deserve better than Draco Malfoy? No, that was laughable. But if this… whatever it was… wasn't stopped there may not be any hope for Granger when she woke up. The potion would be ready before the end of the school year, but what then? Last time… this thing had killed. What if Granger died? Was Draco going to let his father take away the girl that Magic declared his soulmate? Just roll over and let it happen?

Malfoys didn't have choices, but looking up at Weasley and Longbottom, Draco made one anyways.

"You're going to help me stop whatever did this to her," he told them firmly.

The both gaped.