The Day The Dursleys Came To Hogwarts Chapter 29

By Ordinaryguy2

Hogwarts

Rita Skeeter was in shock and awe over everything she had witnessed this night. She had originally thought that she would get some fluff pieces at the Yule Ball as she scoped everything out in her animagus beetle form. Perhaps even witness a juicy scandal if she were lucky. But what she got instead was probably what would mount up to be the story of her career! And she could most likely turn out a book or two on it as well!

Who knew that squibs could be so uppity as to try capture the premier school of the Wizarding world? And to do it while two foreign schools were visiting! The political upheaval will be tremendous when this is over!

And worst of all, the squibs had done it! They had actually taken the castle and captured the teachers, students and tournament officials!

Who would have guessed that squibs –the rejects of the Wizarding world– had become so organized? Or that they could even mount any type of opposition to those who could use magic. The magic draining gel and foam that they used to overcome the witches and wizards at the ball was truly frightening. Even from where Rita had been watching in the rafters in her water beetle form, she had almost been hit by stray splashes. She wasn't sure if the stuff would have changed her back into her human form, or just leave her trapped as a water beetle. Whatever the result, she didn't want to find out. And for the most part, she stayed in the relative safety of the rafters, and learned what she could.

However, she had managed to follow the leader, a squib by the name of Samuel Kingson who was evidently a relative of the Hogwarts potions master. For the meeting, the heads of the squib uprising sat at one side of the table and Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape, Undersecretary Umbridge, and one of the middle children of Arthur Weasley who was standing in for Barty Crouch for some reason. She was able to easily hide on the frame of one of the painting in the room, and there recorded everything that was said in the illuminating meeting.

It became even more insane when the ghost known as Nearly Headless Ned or Nick or something had come rushing in with the outrageous tale of a monstrous version of Voldemort's ghost breaking free in the castle, consuming other ghosts, and planning who knows what.

Later, when they had gone back to the Great Hall, Rita had hitched a ride on the underside of McGonagall's hair bun. After McGonagall and the ghost had relayed the events to the teens and adults, the majority of students and staff seemed to be leaning to joining forces with the squibs in taking down the ghastly abomination.

Rita wasn't sure what she thought about that at the moment, and decided to take the role of a passive observer, just compiling the data to examine later.

She had been fortunate to see the ghost go up to Potter and his girlfriend, Hermesine or something like that. The girl's hair was definitely looking better than the time she had seen the teen in the Champions' Tent. Before she would have compared her hair to a doxy nest, but now the muggle-born had clearly gotten her hands on some magical hair products. Rita had carefully flown after them, narrowly being missed by an aggressive swooping Snowy owl that she was surprised was even in the Great Hall.

She had carefully hid in the tapestry and was surprised as everyone else when the ghost said there was a secret passage behind it. (Well, not really surprised. Hogwarts was littered with secret passages after all.)

The butchered bodies of The Weird Sisters littering the stone floor of the corridor was by far the most gruesome sight she had ever come across. She hadn't even seen so much blood spilt since in Knockturn Ally after the Vampire Purge almost a decade ago. (But then again vampires never spilt much blood unless absolutely necessary.)

She had at first believed that the squibs had murdered the band until she heard Harry Potter point out the details to the crime scene. The conclusion that the most-likely suspect in the killing was the ex-auror Mad-Eye Moody. Alastor Moody's paranoia was legendary in the Ministry; she'd printed more than a few stories on him through the years, earning herself a black mark in his book. The thought of someone as dangerous and deadly as Moody losing it and going on a killing spree sent shivers through her exoskeleton. In truth, Moody was not as dangerous as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, but he came a lot closer to that bar than most could.

She stayed behind in the forgotten passageway while Potter closed the door, thus leaving her with the bodies of the band. She flew all around the dead musicians as she soaked up every detail. She had to be careful to leave no trace of herself behind to be discovered by the Auror forensics team. That was the main reason she didn't transform into her normal self and rifle through their pockets to learn what she could about what was going on in their lives before it was so abruptly ended. She had heard recently from one of her sources that there was a rumor one of the members of The Weird Sisters was getting engaged. If she could find proof of that rumor in the form of a love letter, it would be galleons in the bank. But she couldn't risk crossing the aurors. Amelia Bones was already looking for a reason to interrogate her. Signs that Rita had been at the crime scene of The Weird Sisters would certainly give more than enough reason to question her under veritaserum. After that, Rita's secret animagus form would be out for the world to know, and most places she normally got her scoops would be warded for insects or filled with insect-eating plants.

But she couldn't dwell on that. She had detecting to do so she could write the scoop of her career. Some of what she'd seen and heard she was sure that her editor would highly censor, especially since he would be following the mandate of The Daily Prophet's new owner, Lucius Malfoy. But the very fact that her story was censored in the newspaper would make the sales of her book sell all the more as people would want to read what had been left out previously. Especially if she included everything down to the last detail. She would surely have to rent a pensieve from Gringotts to make sure she got every juicy tidbit, but it would be galleons well spent. And the most ironic part was that she wouldn't have to exaggerate anything.

After looking over the bodies as well as she could, she searched the secret door for a crack to squeeze through to get back into the Great Hall. When that didn't work, she flew down the corridor to where it ended, coming through a door that was behind a painting that was not closed all the way.

Rita traveled through the air, meaning to go back around to the main entrance to the Great Hall. There she would decide whether it would be more beneficial to tag around with Kingson, or to go back and hear what plots Potter and his girlfriend made.

She was rounding a corner when she almost flew into the face of a man who had been walking toward her.

The man swatted at her with his hand, which Rita neatly avoided. She had been about to continue on her way when she realized that the man she had almost flown into was Harry's uncle. Rita winged herself over to a suit of armor and came to a rest on it's shoulder, all while continuing to examine the fat man, Vernon Dursley.

Anger began to build up within her toward the muggle to the point that the armor she was roosting on was beginning to vibrate from her magic. Seeing that she was in danger of giving herself away, she concentrated on her Occlumency training to lower her emotions. Occlumency, while it does calm a person and block others from reading your thoughts and emotions, it also heightens a person's awareness around them; all of which are excellent reasons for a reporter to learn Occlumency. This time her Occlumency let her observe the muggle more closely, and what she noticed surprised her.

She glanced up and down the hall, checking for people, ghosts and any occupants in the nearby portraits. Only then did she flutter down a safe distance behind the fat muggle and transform herself.

"Where is she?" Vernon muttered under his breath, with a hint of anxiety. "She really shouldn't be off on her own in such a freaky place. I need to watch over her. It's what brothers are supposed to do for their sisters. She really shouldn't be-"

"Mr. Dursley," Rita said out loud.

Vernon spun around so fast he almost caused himself to crash into a nearby suit of armor. Righting himself, he gave the woman in front of him a scowl. "Which one are you, a witch or a squib?"

Flabbergasted for a moment at having been possibly mistaken as a squib, she finally gave a shake of her head to put that thought aside. "That doesn't matter right now, Mr. Dursley. What does matter is what I noticed about you."

Vernon grit his teeth. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Rita gave a small sigh of exasperation. She needed the man to trust her for a moment; and yet with the look he was giving her she didn't see how that was possible. But if he couldn't trust her, maybe there was someone else that he could trust. "Mr. Dursely, do you have your own house-elf?"

He looked stubborn, and she was afraid that he wasn't going to respond. Finally, he blurted out, "Petunia's got one."

"And that's you wife, right?"

He had turned to look down the hall in search for someone. "Yeah."

"And as the head of your house, your wife's house-elf has to obey you and always tell you the truth, yes?"

A grimace now adorned his puffy face. "That's what Marge told me."

Rita nodded. She had first seen Vernon's sister in the Great Hall. A more horrible muggle she had never seen before. "Right, I need you to call your family's house-elf right now so that it can help you with something that I have noticed."

She saw him hesitate. "Remember, the house-elf has to obey you, not me," she added before he refused.

Grudgingly, he called out, "Winky!"

The meek house-elf appeared with a cracking sound, looking nervously at her feet. She had felt the wards change hands, just as every other house-elf, ghost, and portrait in Hogwarts had. Unfortunately, there was nothing she could do about it.

"M-master calls?" she asked, timidly.

Rita spoke up quick as she wasn't sure how much time she had before someone came to find the wayward muggle. "Winky, I need you to look at your master. Can't you see that someone is controlling him with potions of some kind?"

Winky raised her hands to her cheeks and gasped in surprise, her eyes so wide that they looked like her eyeballs could just fall out of her head with the slightest jostle.

"What is this? What are you talking about?" demanded Vernon.

Rita shook her head as if in despair. "Literally what I said; someone is trying to control you with loyalty potions. And they could very likely make you turn against your loved ones at a moment's notice."

Vernon rounded on the house-elf. "And you say it's true?" he demanded, harshly.

"It's true!" Winky squeaked.

Vernon's eyes darted around. "That means I could be a danger to Marge," he mumbled.

"As well as to your wife and son," Rita added, calculatedly.

Vernon nodded absent-mindedly to this, so she pressed on. "There is a way to undo this."

He now gave her a suspicious glare. "And how it that?"

Rita then nodded toward Winky. "Just have your house-elf get a potion that would purge this controlling potion from your body so that you have your freewill to keep your loved ones safe."

"Is this true?" he demanded gruffly of Winky.

"Is absolutely true," admitted Winky, still starring at him with her large eyes.

Vernon grumbled before turning his back to them to give himself a moment to think. With an exasperated sigh, he leaned against the wall. It was so hard to make decisions without Marge around. It was his duty as her brother to do right by her. If someone had made it so he could turn against her, well… he had to do what he could to make him not a threat to her. Even if it meant trusting magic to do so.

"Fine. Get me the damn potion!" he demanded angrily.

Winky glanced at Rita for just the barest of moments before popping away to retrieve the necessary potion.

The house-elf returned within seconds, holding out the vial of greenish potion up for Vernon.

"This is it then?" he asked.

Winky nodded, making her ears flap some. "This potion for removing controlling potions," she stated, fearfully.

Vernon looked at it worrisomely. "Ah, damn. But if it will make it so I'm not a possible threat to Marge, then I have to do it."

It smelled of peppermint and wet grass, but tasted something like eggs that had been boiled way too long with a pinch of mustard and pineapple. Altogether, not as bad as he feared.

Within seconds, Vernon fell onto his backside, landing hard enough to take the breath from him. He was blinking rapidly, and wrapped his arms the best he could around his large stomach as he underwent severe cramps.

"What-what the hell is this?" he looked up at them fearfully, suddenly worried that they had poisoned him.

Rita tisked at the man. She had taken that same potion a few times in her life. The cramps were just a bit worse than the cramps she had to put up with once a month. "It's the potion at work. It's pulling all the loyalty potion to itself so that it can be purged from your body."

Vernon groaned pathetically as he rolled onto his side, reminding Rita of a beached whale she had once seen that had attracted a family of small wyverns. The Oblivator teams had had their hands full removing the memories from all the muggles on the beach. It had taken two days before the wyverns had consumed the majority of the whale, and moved on. But Rita had enjoyed writing the story, as it was summer and had kept her on the beach the whole time. Rarely did she get to enjoy such locales. And best of all she had been able to right it all off as business expenses.

"It should just be a few more moments and then you should feel as right as rain," Skeeter told the muggle, who looked like he was turning purple as he hyperventilated.

As if on cue, Vernon began to throw up the potion he had swallowed which now glowed a neon yellow color.

More and more liquid came out of the man as he continued to heave.

Rita Skeeter began to look apprehensive. She wasn't sure how many loyalty potions the man had been given, or even over how long a period of time. She also had not thought to think that the man was a muggle instead of a magical, therefore the purging potion might not react the same. And possibly even prove to be lethal.

"Damn," she muttered, wishing she had thought this through more.

Finally, Vernon ceased his heaving, and collapsed onto his back, sucking in large amounts of air.

"Get him some water," Rita ordered the house-elf.

Winky instantly had a glass of chilled water with a straw. She leaned down next to Vernon's head and offered him a sip.

The next few minutes was used for Vernon to recover his wits and taking sips of water to replace what had been lost from his body.

A loyalty potion, he thought to himself. Who would have given me such a thing?

His first thought would have been Samuel Kingson, except that he had only somewhat trusted the man. If fact, he couldn't think of anyone that he had trusted in the whole damn castle except for…

"Marge," he said, in a whisper.

"What was that?" Rita asked. She had been busy putting some of the muck that Vernon had puked up into a small bottle for possible evidence later on.

As if he were an engine starting up, Vernon leapt to his feet, shouting, "Marge!" He then rounded on Rita. "You people! Your lot are the ones that made her do that to me! You freaks mess up everyone and everything with your freaky magic! You change things! You change people! You never leave anything alone! You taint everything around you!" And with that he lunged at her.

Alarmed, Rita drew her wand only for Vernon to slap it out of her hand so that it was knocked away and clattered on the stone floor down the hall. Rita immediately stepped away only to slip in some of the mess Vernon had expelled, slipping toward the hard stone floor. She transformed into her water beetle form before she hit the unyielding castle floor and winged it out of there in terror, not caring at the moment that she had just revealed that she was an animagus to the deranged muggle.

Vernon stood there watching as the bug flew away from him. He wasn't surprised that she had just turned into a bug. He'd already seen Harry's godfather turn into a black dog. For all he knew all of the freaks could become animals.

But that wasn't what was really upsetting him.

Marge had turned against him. She had used him. Turned him into a puppet. His own sister.

Deep down, he had always known that she had a cruel streak. He also knew her to be greedy as well. He'd even help invest in a few of her money schemes that rarely turned a profit. But he never thought she would try and manipulate him. And to do it to this extent. To literally take his will away.

Seeing an alcove, Vernon stumbled into it to collapse on an ornate loveseat. There he wept for some time before he noticed Winky standing nearby with a glass of water and a handkerchief.

"What do you want?" he snapped.

Winky cringed, but spoke after a moment. "Winky just wanted to help." She held out the handkerchief tentatively.

Vernon snatched the small piece of embroidered linen from the house-elf, using it to wipe his face before blowing his nose into it. Only then did he take another drink of water offered by the house-elf.

Both man and house-elf stayed there, lost in their own thoughts, both filled with pity and grief.

¯`•.¸¸.•´¯

Staircase at Hogwarts

Marcus Flint hurried down the stairs. He was elated and terrified at the same time. He found everything exhilarating. Tonight was the greatest experience in his young life. He couldn't wait to tell his father and uncles what he had done.

"Would you take it easy and slow down! You are bouncing me all over the place! I can't concentrate!"

The command had not come from the Slytherin student. At least not entirely.

Flint had his robes tore open to expose the right side of his chest. There, protruding from his upper chest like a misshaped breast, was the face of a young man.

"Sorry, master." Marcus slowed his pace and tried to stay steadier as he continued down the stairs.

When Marcus had been hired by Draco to discover what the abomination was that the ghosts were guarding secretly, he had no idea that the thing the ghosts called an 'abomination' was actually a part of the Dark Lord that his family had so willing served during the last war.

The abomination had explained to the gullible student that he was a piece of the soul of the Dark Lord Voldemort, otherwise known as Tom Riddle, created while he was still a student at Hogwarts. He went on to explain how he had been possessing a student two years prior and had loosed Slytherin's basilisk to terrify the mudbloods and blood traitors by terrifying several students over a period of time before having his work undone by the blasted Potter brat. However, as he fled what he thought was his demise, he had come upon some ghosts and consumed their essence. Thus, he found a way to stay on this plane of existence, but all too soon was trapped in a ward trap set up by the Grey Lady and the Fat Friar.

Once Riddle had bonded with Marcus by creating a facial construct on Marcus' chest for him to have as a focal point, he went and absorbed the essence of the ghost Marcus had stunned before freeing him. Binns turned out to be as dusty and dull as his classes were. But there was still power in him, ectoplasmic energies that Riddle was more than willing to consume and strengthen himself with.

Riddle had the Slytherin student go up to the seventh floor in search of something that had been calling out to him for the past two years. He had been stymied for a while as the call seemed to end at a wall. It was only in frustration as he had Marcus pace about to try determine a way to get to it that a door opened to a room littered with almost everything imaginable. Following the call to him, Riddle led Marcus to a diadem.

"I can't believe I ended up making more than one horcrux," Riddle muttered to himself, his newly formed eyes studying the tiara that Flint held in his left hand. "I suppose three horcruxes would be stable. Three is a powerful magic number, plus no one would consider that someone would create three such things." A frown appeared on Riddle's face. "I hope I wasn't fool enough to try make more than three. Seven is a more powerful number, but to do something like that to one's own soul seven times? It would be sure to drive a person mad. I wonder if the other me had found a moment to ask Slughorn about it."

Sensing something, he commanded Marcus to stop. Using his mind to take partial control of Flint's arm, he used it to point off in a direction. "Something that ties to us, but is different, is in that direction. I think there are others as well, but this one is closest."

"How is it tied to us?" Marcus asked.

"Not you and I," snapped Riddle. "I mean it is tied to me and the other part of me that is in Rowena's diadem."

Marcus glanced down at the tiara he was holding and decided to not say anything. After all, he had seen the Bloody Baron dancing around in a dress while singing about how pretty he was. While he didn't understand it, Marcus chalked it up to being something to do with the time period that they came from. After all, no generation understands the one before it, as the saying goes.

Marcus walked down the hall while Riddle kept talking to himself and the tiara.

"No! I will not join with you! You would just overwrite me with your own memories and I would just become a footnote in our history! It's not happening! I am Tom Marvolo Riddle just as much as you are! More in fact at this moment so stop pestering me while I find you a suitable body to connect with!" Riddle looked up at his host. "The damn tiara's made him something of a prima donna," he confided.

Marcus just gave a meek grimace and continued in the direction that his master had indicated. "We're coming up to the teachers' quarters," Marcus announced.

"Keep going. A bit farther. On the left. Yes, that door there."

Marcus froze as he read the name on the door. "That-" his voice squeaked, causing him to pause. "That's Mad-Eye Moody's quarters! He used to be a psychotic auror who fought against you! He personally blasted off my grand-papa's wand hand in a duel! And killed off one of my uncle's and several of my parents' cousins! And now that he's here at Hogwarts as the DADA professor, he's been teaching the Unforgivables to the students! I'm telling you he's as crazy as he is dangerous!"

Riddle smirked. "Sounds like the kind of teacher I wish I had had while I was a student. I might have learned quite a bit from a man like that."

Flint shook his head. "He despises what he calls 'the spawn of Death Eaters'. Its quotes like that that finally got him forced to retire from the auror corps. Well, that and that he is paranoid as hell. How Dumbledore got him to come to teach at Hogwarts is beyond me."

"Hmm, is he powerful?" Riddle asked in a calculative tone.

"Not Dumbledore powerful, but, yeah, I think he's up there in sheer power ranking. I mean, he'd have to be in order to overcome so many Death Eaters, right?"

Riddle tried to shake his head, then stopped in annoyance as he remembered that he was only a face on someone else's body at the moment. "Not necessarily. He could just be quicker on the draw and more cunning with certain spells. It really doesn't take much to overcome others if you know what you are doing."

Marcus nodded, feeling important that his new master would share information with him. "So what should we do? Get out of here?"

"Knock. I would like to meet this man."

Instead of complying immediately to the command, Flint started to back away from the door in terror. He couldn't even imagine what would happen to him if someone like Mad-Eye Moody found part of the Dark Lord growing out of his chest, but he knew for certain that he didn't want to find out. He could only hope that this teenage version of the Dark Lord was joking. "Are you serious- Arrrgh!"

His guts felt like they were blowing up and ready to burst. Even worse, they felt like they had been set on fire as well.

"You will do as I command!" Tom snarled up at him. "And you will do it instantly from now on!" The horcrux finally released the hold he had on the Slytherin's intestines, and Marcus began expelling a foul greenish-brown cloud from his backside that stank up the hall and made the torches lighting the hall flare up so that they scorched the ceiling.

Marcus, still on his hands and knees, felt shame and fear, as well as some confusion. His father had mentioned that there had been times when the Dark Lord would discipline his loyal Death Eaters, but he hadn't really thought just what that all meant. And while Marcus knew that this was an aspect of the Dark Lord, it was still a teenager. A teenager that Marcus was older than.

Marcus climbed to his feet, his hands shaking so much he almost dropped the diadem.

Riddle took immediate control of Flint's wand hand and used it to expel the foul odor Flint had produced. Then in front of Moody's door he cast another spell in parsel tongue that created a small blueish-white ball of light that hung in the air.

Riddle put on a smug look. "Now, whoever opens that door, or more actually, when someone stands in that doorway, the spell ball will automatically hit them."

"Th-that would be useful," Flint responded. He almost asked if the young Dark Lord would teach him that spell when he remembered that he couldn't speak parsel tongue so it would be impossible to teach him. "What sh-should I do now?"

"Knock, then stand clear."

Marcus was about to mention the ball of light, but remembered the punishment he had just endured and decided it might just be safer to just knock on Mad-Eye's door and see what happens.

Marcus gave the door three quick sharp raps, and then stepped to the side. After several moments, the door was sudden thrust open, and the ball of light jetted inwards just as a beam of magically energy lashed out of the room, scorching the rock wall.

"Check if there is anyone else inside."

Marcus moved forward only to suddenly stop.

"Not that way!" snarled Riddle. "Don't they teach students anything these days?"

Riddle took command of Marcus' arm again while muttering something in Latin. "No one's inside." He then did several spell checks on the door area, finding several spells that were not particularly safe for someone that just barged inside. After undoing all the protections Moody had laid around the room, he was ready to go inside. He did pause to take note of one set of runes in the ceiling that would for some reason change the color of the hair of someone exiting the room to neon blue. That had to be some kind of prank meant to get Moody so Riddle simply destroyed it.

Once inside, Flint closed the door to ensure their privacy. The only problem was that instead of Moody being bound up and petrified on the floor, it was a smaller, thin man in his thirties. The man was unable to speak, but his eyes were bugging out at the sight of the face protruding from Flint's chest.

"Who the hell is this?" Marcus blurted out.

"I don't know," Riddle answered slowly. "But I feel something connecting me to him by something on his arm." Using the wand again, he had the sleeve on the man's arm ripped off, exposing the dark tattoo.

"The dark mark!" Marcus exclaimed happily. "He's one of your loyal followers, my lord!"

Riddle looked over the mark on the man's arm. He recognized it as a doodle he had once created while striving to stay awake in Binns' class, which is also when he created the name Lord Voldemort from an anagram of his name. The doodle was a recreation of the first time he had seen the basilisk come out of the mouth of the statue of Slytherin in the Chamber of Secrets. He'd been rather proud of it and had practiced drawing it in various ways to make it more impressive. Eventually, he had substituted a skull in place of Slytherin's head, making the image even eerier. It seemed oddly fitting that he had eventually used it to mark his servants. There was other magic interwoven into the tattoo, but he could only discern the barest inklings of what any of them did.

"He's definitely someone we should talk to," Riddle said with a growing smirk. Then with a little more magic, he allowed the man to be able to speak again.

The man gulped audibly. "Who are you?"

"I think you already know," Riddle answered with a sneer.

"You-you are a fragment of the Dark Lord."

"Fragment!" snarled Riddle. "You dare to consider me to be a mere fragment!?"

If anything, the man seemed more terrified than before. "I-I meant no disrespect. I just meant that you were… er, are… part of the master that I serve." The man's eyes snapped up to Flint's, but the teen was simply reveling in the terror of the man in front of him. Shifting his eyes back to the face protruding from the teen's chest, the man on the ground licked his lips nervously.

Tom Riddle was not appeased by any means. "I have done more to help the one you follow, who is actually a part of me, than all of you so-called servants combined and multiplied!" he spat. "I have sacrificed a portion of my very being! I remained in that dusty diary for decades, awake, aware, my cognitive mind fully functional!"

Riddle felt cheated more than everything else. The tearing sensation from being ripped away and then welded ceremoniously into his private diary as that was one of the things he had had with him when he had unintentionally got the young Ravenclaw student killed by her looking into the eyes of the basilisk. And while Myrtle's murder wasn't planned, he wasn't about to let it go to waste. And thus, he quickly created his first horcrux.

Riddle hadn't realized that by making a horcrux that he would literally be imprisoning a portion of himself to be stuck inside the diary, with all the memories, desires and dreams of himself. In truth, he's been rather shortsighted about all the ramifications. Not that the other part of himself had known that. Or that he would have even cared.

The part of him that had remained outside the horcrux, Voldemort, had gone on to achieve his climb to power, no doubt traveling the world to accumulate power while training, and later gathering his followers in his bid to take over the Wizarding world.

The anger and frustration over the perceived unfairness of it all boiled within Riddle. It didn't matter to him that part of him had been able to continue on with his dreams, he had not! He had been left stuck in a book and placed inside a dusty library, with very little awareness of his surroundings except when some fool wrote on the pages.

It seemed even more unfair that Voldemort had gone and made even more horcruxes, meaning that there were more versions similar to himself, trapped and tucked away in some dusty corner, all so the segment of Riddle's soul that remained free could remain on this plane of existence and thumb his nose at death.

Riddle snarled at the man on the floor. "You claim to serve Voldemort? Then let us see just how well you serve him." He held up the diadem with Flint's hand. "Do you see what this is?"

The man's tongue flicked across his lips nervously. "It's… a tiara. Made in an old style."

"Old is right," Riddle said with a grin. "So old in fact that when it was created it was still being called a diadem."

The man took in a gasp of air. "Is that the lost diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw?" He wasn't actually wanting conformation; he was sure that what the monstrosity was holding in front of him was truly the historical relic that had been lost in the annals of time. He just didn't know why he was showing him.

Riddle let his anger go and smirk. "See for yourself," he said, casually tossing it to the man.

Barty Crouch Jr. was having a hell of an evening. First, he'd had to attend the idiotic Yule Ball. Then squibs of all things had attacked everyone at the ball with some goop that sucked up magic. He'd fought, but had eventually been struck several times, undoing the polyjuice potion that he used. He'd been fortunate to get out of there without anyone in the Great Hall seeing him by ducking down an old secret passage. Only then he'd crashed into several men in the passageway. He hadn't recognized them as anyone belonging there, so assumed they had been part of the attacking squibs. Either way, he'd been seen by them, so he executed all of them as quickly as he could. Only afterwards did he recognize them as the band The Weird Sisters. But that didn't matter. What did matter was getting back to the teachers' quarters so that he could get more polyjuice potion before he was discovered to not be who everyone thought he was.

And now he was unarmed and faced with one of his master's horcruxes. And he only knew that because he had mentioned the subject that his master should consider making such a thing (something he had learned of while sneaking a look into his family grimoire). His master had looked up at him from the tiny corrupted baby form and laughed, before saying 'How do you think I survived that damn Halloween night thirteen years ago?'

How all these events were possible he couldn't imagine any more than having the legendary Ravenclaw diadem suddenly tossed to him. He grasped it by the rim in surprise and desperation to not let it be damaged.

Instantly, Crouch felt an incredibly strong urge to place the sparkling tiara on his head. He also knew he shouldn't do anything of the sort because it was obviously a cursed artifact of some kind.

"What is it?" he desperately asked, afraid of the answer.

"It's another horcrux." Flint walked slowly around the man, much like a predator circling wounded prey, searching for every weakness. "Another part of me," Riddle said, enjoying the show as he watched the man struggle with the diadem. "Or a part of your master, if that makes it easier to accept."

Crouch glanced up, his eyes terrified. "What is this going to do to me?" It was one thing to read about horcruxes from the family grimoire; it was another altogether to have one actually in your hand.

"I believe you will become a host body for your master. At least temporarily. But you needn't worry, after all it is just a fragment of your master's soul."

Barty was becoming desperate at this point, as both hands now held the diadem and slowly, painstakingly raising it to his brow. Frantically, he looked across the room, and saw what could be his salvation.

"I know how you can get your own body!" he yelled out, the diadem only centimeters from touching his head.

He sat there on the floor shaking with his eyes closed, when he realized that the diadem was no longer attempting to rest on his head.

"What was that!?" Riddle now knelt by the man, causing Barty to jerk away from the face that was pressing out from Flint's chest. If anything, the tight skin pulled tight across Riddle's face made the horcrux seem even more grotesque. "What did you say about a way for us to have our own body?"

Barty had to work to keep from gagging from Riddle's horrid breath, a trick he had mastered while in the presence of Voldemort's monstrous baby form. Pettigrew wasn't always at hand when his master needed fresh nappies, and, well, duty calls. Part of his mind wondered if the putrid smell was a normal occurrence with creatures made in connection to horcruxes. Another part of his brain was trying to determine how best to explain what his idea was.

Finally, he decided the danger in front of him was to take priority in his concerns, and since these horcruxes were a part of his Dark Lord, it wouldn't truly be treason. At least he hoped that his Dark Lord would not take it that way.

"Over there! On the wall there, there is a portrait of Salazar Slytherin! He knows of a way to move someone safely into another body!" Barty licked his lips again. "He had told me about how Godric had done it for his son."

Marcus looked down at the face protruding from his chest to see if Riddle believed that the legendary Godric Gryffindor could do something that in today's world would be considered a heinous act worthy of The Veil.

Riddle had Marcus walk toward the portrait, but made sure not to stand directly in front of it in case of any traps. Inside the portrait, an older, bald wizard with bushy eyebrows was studying them.

"Who do you claim to be?" demanded Riddle.

The portrait chuckled, as a partial sneer graced his face. "You would know me as Salazar Slytherin, one of the four founders of Hogwarts, and Grand Potion Master, as well as-"

"If you truly are the portrait of Salazar Slytherin," interrupted Riddle, "Then where have you been all these centuries?"

"Safely stored away in my private quarters down in my Chamber of Secrets."

"Impossible!" snarled the abomination. "I've done extensive searches of the Chamber!"

"M-my lord," Marcus Flint said as politely as he could with a raging being showing a great deal of agitation sticking out of his chest. "I-I think you should know that the half-blood Potter recently gave a tour of the Chamber of Secrets to the upper years and the visiting schools."

"It's true," proclaimed the still semi-petrified Crouch. "Snape and the half-Goblin Flitwick found a hidden tunnel and managed to find the way to enter inside Slytherin's private chambers. I followed them while disillusioned and was able to rescue the portrait before they could get it in their clutches."

Riddle seethed at the news. He'd spent untold hours trying to open up the rune covered doorway that would lead into Slytherin's private chambers. And now a potions professor and a half-Goblin beat him to it.

"Tell me this secret of how you would move one person into another."

A cold smile graced Salazar's face. "As I told Mr. Crouch, I will not share this great secret with someone until I meet and get to know the person. Therefore, I will have to converse with this Voldemort before giving him the aid he evidently needs. I would not let just anyone be able to take on a new life."

Riddle tried to nod in understanding, but just looked ridiculous instead. "I see. So the great Lord Voldemort, of whom is both my past and future, is also in need of this type of magic that can move a person's mind and soul into a fresh empty body." He slowly walked back to the semi-petrified Crouch, and took the diadem horcrux out of his still fingers.

He was twirling the diadem irreverently on one finger as he thought about everything he had heard so far. Still, he did jump and drop it when a traveling trunk on the far side of the room suddenly jumped about while giving off muffled curses.

"What in Merlin's beard was that?"

"Uh," Crouch began. "It's just the person I've been impersonating while at Hogwarts. He's totally dangerous. One of the fiercest aurors any Death Eater has ever faced. But even so, he is still safely locked up in there."

Riddle put the numbers together. "You keep him alive in order to have the necessary ingredient to use polyjuice potion in order to impersonate him." His stock in the Death Eater rose. To have a Death Eater so dedicated that they would intentionally repeatedly consume polyjuice over the length of a school year… The man would start to have severe health problems once his body began having difficulty holding to either shape. A man this devoted, Riddle would have to try and see if he could also be given a new body to continue to serve. The only problem was… would the man to loyal to him, or just to Voldemort. He needed to be sure that this man that Salazar called Crouch would not turn on him.

And there was only one way he could think to do that. Reaching down, he had Marcus pick up the diadem and begin twirling it around again on his finger. Nodding to the portrait, he turned away and stepped closer to Crouch.

"I need an ally that I can trust. And the only way that I can think to do that is for you to be in the same boat I am in."

That said, he had Flint take the diadem and firmly fixing it to Barty Crouch Jr.'s brow. Then silenced the man's screams as the horcrux began to take the Death Eater over.

¯`•.¸¸.•´¯`•.¸¸.•´¯`•.¸¸.•´¯`•.¸¸.•´¯`•.¸¸.•´¯`•.¸¸.•´¯`

AUTHOR'sNoTeS:

5-2-2016

First, I just want to assure everyone that I am not trying to rehabilitate Vernon. Most men won't change even if their life is turned upside down. Many people have commented that they don't want Vernon to get back together with Petunia. I just want to say that I am not planning that for him.

Now I'm not sure how it happened in the true story as it seems a bit vague, but for mine I have Riddle make a horcrux when Myrtle accidently got killed, using her death as an opportunity. Then sometime later he goes and asks Slughorn about the possibility of making more than one horcrux. I have it this way so that the diary horcrux who became the 'abomination' in my story, didn't know that Voldemort had created more horcruxes later, so is genuinely surprised to come across one in the form of the diadem.

Also Salazar talked about being able to the spell to transfer someone's being into a soulless living body in the latter part of Chapter 18 and again in Chapter 19 in case anyone wanted to go back and reread it.

Tomorrow I go to have surgery. I'm going to have what I think is called a spinal cord stimulator put into my spine. Basically it is supposed to create something like static so that some of the pain receptors are blocked. Not all of my pain will go away, but it will be reduced by a great deal. I had a temporary one put in about a month ago, and it seems to work so now I have to go in and have the permanent one stuck into me, It's rather nerve-racking to think about. But the theory is that I will be able to have more of a life afterwards. Well, anyway, just wanted to say a bit of what I and my family are going through. Those of you that would, please send a prayer our way and thanks.