It takes a while for Potter to fall asleep, but Tom has all the time in the world. After spending fifty years trapped in a diary, one learns to be patient, after all. The importance of the matter is only another reason to take things slowly, to make sure that he does this correctly. It's been years since he's even considered it, and he needs to ensure that it's really necessary before he attempts anything rash.
Finally, Potter's mind quiets, and Tom slips inside. For a moment, he feels something stir, and he fears that a mind already so used to the presence of others will have no problem detecting him, asleep or not. But he feels no struggle and, after a minute, deems it safe to continue.
It's refreshing to approach the Chamber from the dungeons. When he'd first tried to use Ginny's body, he'd been horribly disorientated. It hadn't helped that she was female, either. He has nothing against the female body, nothing at all, but Potter's is just so much more familiar. He finds himself taking longer than necessary to examine his surroundings, to feel the weight of his bare feet against the cold stone pathway. For a moment, he considers abandoning his mission entirely. Why must he act so quickly? It's been years since he's been outside, and the night looks lovely from what he can see through Hogwart's windows. He could go outside and rest by the lake for a while. Even if he was caught, he's sure that Potter wouldn't mind. If Potter's so used to sharing a body already, he might even let Tom experience some things on his own. If he really tried, Tom might even be able to convince himself that he's just gathering information...
He can't. Tom can't risk angering him, and if he does this correctly, he'll be so pleased with him. No, better to wait. He's sure that he'll get the opportunity to enjoy himself again soon.
He's almost to his destination, now. He's walking slower, and he knows that he doesn't want to do this. How many attacks has it been now? Three? Four? How many more people will have to be hurt before this can stop? Tom finds himself rubbing the hands as if he can feel blood dripping down between the fingers. It's silly of him, and he knows it. Why would there be blood on Potter's hands? He's done nothing wrong. No, the one who deserves to be stained by his guilt would relish in the feeling. He'll never be punished, and they all know it.
Before he's even aware of what he's doing, Tom finds himself hunched down in a corner, hidden by the shadows of a coat of armor. His breath catches in his throat, and he wills Potter's body to still. It takes him another few moments to notice what his unconscious mind had already honed in on, well practiced at avoiding detection. Someone is coming.
Tom's eyes widen. He closes them, but when he opens them again, nothing's changed. The man stumbling past him is Severus Snape, and he looks worse than Tom's ever seen him. Oh, Tom knows how devastated Snape must have been after Lily died, but he would swear that the professor has to look worse now. His eyes look practically sunken into his head, and he looks like a man haunted by demons. Tom's eyes track Snape as the man makes his way slowly down the corridor, stopping often as if lost. Even once Snape's disappeared, Tom finds himself frozen, mind whirring.
Why does Severus look like that? What changed? It was only so long ago that Tom saw the professor through Ginny's eyes, and he had looked healthy enough then, if a bit brooding. What could have happened over the course of a few months to destroy a man as proud as Severus Snape?
It hits him suddenly, and he jerks to his feet, heart racing. How long ago had the teachers learned of Potter's condition? He slaps a hand over his mouth to trap the laughter bubbling up. So this is how the professors at the great Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, react to learning that one of their students was abused? They don't confront him over it. They won't speak to him about it or try to make sure that he's okay. They don't even make an effort to have him placed somewhere safe. No, they stare at him as if he's tainted. They whisper behind his back and make him guess for himself what he did wrong. They mope around the school as if there's some grand weight on them. Do they not understand that the weight that Potter carries is so much more significant than their own? Do they really think that they're the ones suffering?
The urge to laugh has only grown, and Tom slumps against a wall, gasping as quietly as he can for breath. Something's twisting and turning inside of him, and for a second, he understands how Voldemort was birthed from the same soul.
And then there's magic.
It swirls around him, hovering close to the skin, filling every pour. In a sense, it's good and pure, as all magic must be. But beneath it all, it's tainted, dirty and cruel, sick. Dark and twisted, seeking to rot him from the inside out. It's horribly familiar, but at the same time, strange and entirely new. It's not his. Tom recognizes that much. This feeling, this magic, is Potter's, but… it's not.
He knows what he has to do.
XXXXX
It's much darker than he had remembered, and he finds this strangely fitting. The chamber itself shows no sign of aging, but the doorways are etched deeper into the walls than ever before. Tom takes his place by the third and waits. He has no sense of time here, and he has no reason to believe that they'll come. It's been years since he's acknowledged any of them, and he knows that many of them will dislike being disturbed. They barely tolerated each other from the beginning, and they parted on less than cordial terms. Perhaps Tom truly is alone, this time, well and truly abandoned.
They begin to arrive.
The first arrives silently, as if birthed from the shadows. The shadows hide his face, now, as he takes his place by the second door, but Tom can feel the strength of his stare. He doesn't speak, and he doesn't reply. All of the things between them that could be said are hollow and worthless, and neither is fond of useless speech.
A child comes next, but he's no more cheerful than the first. He steals quickly to the first real door, shivering as if enveloped by cold. He's thin, painfully thin, more skeleton than living child. He jumps, though Tom detected no noise. A moment later, a young man is walking briskly towards the fourth door. When he's reached it, he pauses to turn, shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other. The first to arrive snorts, and the young man frowns. His hands are stuffed into his pockets, and his posture is tense. His eyes search out Tom's, but Tom shakes his head. Not yet.
It doesn't take long, and his arrival is so indiscernible that Tom finds himself wondering if he might have been there from the beginning. He gazes lazily around, looking at each of them in turn. Beside him, Tom feels the young man start.
"What is he doing here?" he demands.
"Now now, Thomas," the man admonishes, "calm yourself. I merely wish to observe."
"And report back to Voldemort, isn't that right?" Thomas laughs bitterly.
The man merely raises an eyebrow in response. "How perfectly absurd. You know as well as I that our dear friend wants nothing more to do with us. It's why he locked us up, after all."
"Locked us up!" Thomas scoffs. "I chose to leave, and I've never regretted it. Better locked up in a crown than privy to his foolishness."
The first snorts. "Oh, I'm sure. The crown suits you rather well, you fucking faggot."
"Still as mature as a first year, I see," Thomas replies, rolling his eyes. Tom bristles at the comment and quickly intervenes.
"Do you think that I called all of you together to bicker like a bunch of school girls?"
"I don't care why you called us," the first says bluntly. "I was rather glad that you were the first to go. Well, I would have preferred it be Tommy, but I suppose we can't always have what we want in life."
"Marvolo!" Thomas yells, flushing with anger. Tommy himself seems undisturbed by the drama around him, and Tom wonders if there's ever a reprieve in the boy's head. Somehow, he doubts it, and the anger rejuvenates him.
"So you don't want to know about The Silent?"
As if that was their cue, the others all fall silent themselves. Only the man has the poise to look Tom in the eyes and ask, "What are you talking about, Tom?"
"I've found him," Tom answers, resisting the urge to add a childish, it's too bad that you don't want to hear more.
"Where, Tom?"
"In Harry Potter."
This time, no one speaks. Even Tom feels almost afraid to break the quiet, but he feels that he must. He's the reason that they're here, after all.
"He found my diary. No, that's not correct. Potter found my diary. I don't believe that I've met Harry yet, though I could be mistaken."
"You shut the fuck up," Marvolo explodes, throwing himself forwards. "You little bitch liar, you—"
Within a moment, the man's crossed over to Marvolo and has him slammed against a wall. "Let him speak."
Tom swallows hard and continues, "He's like us. I don't know why, yet, but there's no doubt about it. I've met one of his others, James. Everything about them is different, down to their very magical core. I don't know how they all manage to use one wand; I suppose they never grew past as it, as we did, but… When I possessed them tonight, I felt another. It's The Silent, I swear to you."
"And you're sure of this?" The man questions coldly. "If you're incorrect, Tom, you will not like the consequences. You are sure?"
Tom nods, and the man releases Marvolo. The teen coughs and then spits near the man's foot. "Fucking Riddle," he spits as if the name is a curse. "Same as always."
"As are you," Riddle responds mildly, returning to his place by the entrance.
"So what will we do?" Thomas asks.
Before Tom can say anything, Riddle answers, "Befriend the boy, of course. He'll be lonely and desperate to meet someone like himself. It sounds like he trusts Tom; I doubt that he would reveal his secret lightly. Let things progress slowly, as naturally as possible. There is no reason for us to make our decision so soon."
"And Voldemort?" Thomas insists. "I doubt that he'll let things rest. Oh, he'll never notice us, but do you really imagine that he'll allow the boy to be?"
"He's already failed one attempt at Potter's life." Riddle smiles a cold, empty smile that chills Tom to the bone. "Perhaps the next will go as poorly."
The unspoken perhaps not compels Tom into action.
"I don't want to hurt him." Riddle levels a stare at him, and Marvolo's muttering something about this being unsurprising, but Thomas is nodding in approval, and it gives Tom the courage that he needs to continue.
"I really don't. I see no reason to make him our enemy. Yes, I'm aware of the prophecy, as are we all. I see no reason to fear it, however. If only Harry can destroy us, why give him reason to do so? Even if he attacks Voldemort, we've already seen that we'll survive. If he can destroy our dear front and leave us alive, all the better. As Riddle said, he'll be desperate for a friend. Why not be that for him?"
"I suppose you're not as stupid as you look," Marvolo says boldly. Thomas rolls his eyes even while nodding at Tom in approval. Tom holds his breath and looks to Riddle.
"I suppose there's no reason, at the moment, to do anything but as you have suggested," the man finally answers, and Tom lets out a breath in relief. Riddle continues, "We'll have to give him reason to trust us, of course. Allow him to know us as we are, but breathe not a word of our connection to Lord Voldemort. He may learn, but… all in good time."
All in good time.
XXXXX
A/N: There are so many things that I should be doing right, you have no idea. Which is exactly why I'm putting all of them off and writing HP Fanfiction instead!
Feedback at this point would be greatly appreciated. I know at least one of you doesn't mind this twist because at least one of you is a genius (or just genre savvy) and figured it out on their own. You were completely correct, Nahmen! Well, your second theory was, at least. No evil robot sons from the future in this fic, sorry. :P And actually, MPD was known 50 years ago, at least in the muggle world. Wizard wise, I'm not quite sure!
Thanks, as well, to Diaboli Advotacus for the review, as well as to anyone who read, favorited, and subscribed.