Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction based on the Harry Potter universe. All recognizable characters, plots and settings are the exclusive property of J.K Rowling. I make no claim to ownership nor do I make any profit.

Acknowledgments: Thank you to my betas Umar, Luq707, Yoshi89 and Fezzik for their work on this story. An additional shoutout goes to Discord user DawnofAzazel for the edit to the original chapter draft.

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Author's Note:

I don't do this very often; I honestly don't know if I've done it once on this story. But this story is tantalizingly close to both 700 favourites and 1000 followers! If we could get to those milestones, that would be splendid!

If you guys are enjoying the story and have not yet followed/favourited, I would be profoundly grateful if you did so.

I now return you to your regularly scheduled fanfic!

Recommendations:

Harry Potter and The Prince of Slytherin by The Sinister Man.

Harry Potter and The Boy-Who-Lived by The Santi.

Growing Up Black by ElvindorkNigellus.

The Hero and The Veela by JackPotter.

Stepping Back, and Honour Thy Blood by TheBlack'sResurgence.

The Mind Arts by Wu Gang.

A Cadmean Victory by DarknessEnthroned.

Magicks of The Arcane by Eilyfe.

"Speech."

'Internal Dialogue.'

Parseltongue.

Memories/In Story Text.

Harry Potter and The Dark Lord's Equal

By ACI100.

Year 2: The Looming of Shadows.

Chapter 17: Mental Arenas.

February 6th, 1993

The Headmaster's Office

6:23 AM

Harry's morning thus far had been a whirlwind. As usual, he had woken bright and early and roused his best mate, Neville. As usual, the two of them had dressed as quickly as possible and made their way out onto the Hogwarts grounds to complete their workout regiment, courtesy of the lunatic known best as Mad-Eye Moody.

That part of Harry's morning had been quite standard.

What had been less standard was when Harry and Neville had been unable to make it back to the Gryffindor common room. Well, Harry supposed that they had not been physically prevented. One of the portraits in the Entrance Hall had called for Harry at once, much to the surprise of the duo of second year Gryffindors. At first, Harry had been fully intent on ignoring the portrait altogether. That was until it had mentioned that the Headmaster had an urgent message for him and he was to report to Dumbledore's office immediately. At those words, Harry's pulse had quickened. In his admittedly not-so-esteemed estimation, that could only mean one thing.

Snape was awake.

Regretfully, Harry had told Neville that this was a meeting he could not miss. He also urged his friend to be careful while returning to the common room. Then, when he saw that Neville was safely out of sight, Harry donned his invisibility cloak and took the route to Dumbledore's office at a flat sprint.

Minutes later, Harry found himself barging through the office door without invitation. Luckily, Dumbledore, who was most uncharacteristically pacing about the office, did not seem too bothered. In fact, Harry seemed far more bothered by the old man's pacing and the absence of one Severus Snape than Dumbledore seemed by Harry's rudeness.

"Good, I had hoped a portrait would find you promptly." Dumbledore said, pausing his pacing to take a seat heavily in his high-backed chair, gesturing vaguely for Harry to take his customary spot across from him.

"Sir, what's happened? Is Snape awake?" It was a mark of how serious the situation at hand was that Dumbledore did not even bother to correct Harry on his lack of formality when addressing his least favourite Hogwarts Professor.

Instead, Dumbledore closed his eyes and looked down at his desk. Harry's heart skipped a beat as he could practically feel the pain radiating off of the man in front of him, and could practically see it in the aged lines of his face. "Professor Snape was indeed awake." Dumbledore affirmed, but Harry did not miss the ominous use of past tense. "Unfortunately, he is… missing."

"Missing?" Harry asked incredulously. "Sir, how does a Professor just go 'missing'?"

"A question I'd be asking myself as well, Harry, if not for the writing left on the wall last night."

The already building fear inside of Harry seemed to spike at those words. "W-writing, sir? Where? Was it the Heir of Slytherin?"

"It most certainly was." Dumbledore said, and for the first time all year, Harry thought he sounded… bitter. "As for the where — the message was left right outside my office."

"What?!" Harry exclaimed, eyes wide. "I didn't see any message on my way in."

"Naturally, you would not have. I took great lengths to ensure that the message was removed. It would not do for the vice of panic to close on the school prematurely."

Harry hesitated; he wasn't entirely sure whether he actually wanted to know the answer to his next question. Alas, it was probably necessary to better understand the situation at hand. "What-what did the message say this time, sir?"

Dumbledore frowned in a way that implied he was feeling vast amounts of distaste. "Not even the King of the Snake Pit is safe from the wrath of Slytherin's Heir when they are foolish enough to pose opposition." He wrinkled his nose. "It is… highly juvenile, but disturbing in its implications."

"What do you mean, sir?"

"Last time, Harry, the Heir of Slytherin did not dare attack any from his own house. This time, he has not only stepped across that undrawn line, but he has practically eviscerated it by not only attacking a Slytherin, but by attacking the Head of Slytherin House. As far as Slytherin House is concerned, Severus, in many ways, serves as its face, as well as its leader." Privately, Harry thought that if that were true, then perhaps that was why Slytherin was so universally disliked. But in the present moment, he doubted that voicing such thoughts aloud would serve him any real benefit.

So, instead, he asked the obvious question, which, coincidentally, also happened to be just about the only response Harry could come up with at that point in time. "What now, sir?"

Disturbingly, Dumbledore, who always seemed to have the answers, looked at a loss for words. "I must confess, Harry, that I am not entirely sure." He winced. "Well, I am fairly sure that in the context of myself, what is 'next' is likely me being asked to step down as Headmaster of Hogwarts."

"WHAT?! But they can't! If you leave, the school will just be even more dangerous! If the Heir of Slytherin knows you're out of the way, they know their path is clear!"

"This is true," Dumbledore admitted, "but it is simply the reality at hand. The Board of Governors meet every Sunday night. By the time they meet tomorrow evening, the news of Severus's fate will have travelled far and wide. By then, I have no doubt that I will be the victim of a vote of no-confidence. Which, in the current situation, I can hardly blame them for."

"But if you leave-"

"Yes, we both know everything you have already said is true." Dumbledore hesitated. "I would… also remind you, however, that such a thing may not always be a negative." He winced for a second time. "While the fact that the school will become more dangerous for its students is deeply troubling and equally heartbreaking, as you have said, it will allow the Heir of Slytherin to move further into the open. If we would like to have any hope in seeing their downfall, I believe that moment will be our best opportunity. When most exposed, they will be at their most dangerous. However, it also naturally means that they will be at their most vulnerable."

"So it'll be up to me to beat the Heir of Slytherin, then?" Harry asked, incredulous. "Professor, I can't do that! If you haven't been able to find him, what chance do I have? Even if he does come out into the open, he's bested Snape twice! I'm a second year!"

"Harry, I wish nothing more than to be able to tell you that this is a burden you must not bear. I am… afraid, however, that the choice will not be ours. The Heir of Slytherin has been arranging the pieces for many months to assure that the two of you end up on an inevitable collision course. Soon, it will be unavoidable. Your advantage, Harry, is that you need not act alone. The Heir of Slytherin is powerful, elusive and dangerous, but he is also isolated, alone and friendless. Your advantage, Harry, is not only the people around you, but the motivation in which they provide. The Heir of Slytherin fights for himself and his narrow-minded beliefs. You fight for those around you and those you hold most dear. Never forget that, Harry. It is a weapon sharper than any wielded by the Heir of Slytherin."

An hour later, in the Room of Requirement…

Neville slumped backwards as Harry concluded his tale. Thankfully, the room conjured up a chair for him to land in, but by the stricken look on Neville's face, one may have very well assumed he had indeed smacked his head forcefully off the floor. "I can't believe this." Neville muttered. "Dumbledore's going to be gone? Blimey, he's probably the only one keeping this Heir of Slytherin from going on a rampage."

"I know," Harry said, grimly, "Dumbledore seems to think that's not a bad thing, though. For some reason, he seems to think I'll somehow beat this Heir of Slytherin."

"You're brilliant, Harry, but honestly, I'm not sure how Dumbledore's come to that idea."

Harry laughed. "It's ok, Neville. I honestly haven't figured that out either."

A long pause stretched between them before Neville mustered up the ability to speak once more. "Are you going to write Gran? Tell her what Dumbledore's told you?"

Harry hesitated. "I… don't want her to pull us from Hogwarts, or anything."

"Harry, this is crazy! You can't beat this Heir of Slytherin on your own! Plus, you promised Gran you'd keep her in the loop."

Harry threw up his hands. "Ok, ok, I'll write to her. But honestly, I don't see what she's going to be able to do. Plus, I can't tell her everything. I haven't even told you everything. Not because I don't want to," he clarified when he saw the aghast look on Neville's face, "there are things that Dumbledore's told me that I've promised him not to tell anybody, no matter what. At least, until this Heir of Slytherin crap is dealt with."

Neville sighed. "I don't like it." He said. "Any of it; you going after this Heir of Slytherin, you keeping secrets from me for Dumbledore, but I get it."

"I'm not going after the Heir." Harry promised Neville. "If I have my way, he'll slip up and reveal something to me and then I'll go tell the teachers and maybe even write Dumbledore. It's the Heir who's after me; Dumbledore just seems to think that he's going to manage to get his wish and get to me."

"Can we just hope that Dumbledore's wrong?" Neville asked weakly.

Harry sighed. "Honestly, Neville, I don't know what to hope for at this point. On one hand, I obviously want nothing to do with any of this nonsense. But on the other, I really want whoever's doing this to get caught. For the people he's hurt, for the safety of the rest of us, and so Hogwarts can stay open and go back to normal. If-if that means I have to stop him… well, he can't be worse than Voldemort, can he?"

Neville actually winced. "Why do you have to go and say that, Harry?" He moaned. "Gran always told me not to challenge the gods of irony. She says you'll always lose."

Harry winced. "Well," he offered weakly, "here's hoping she's wrong about something that'll actually work out in our favour, this time."

At lunch, in the Great Hall...

Lunch had been a rather hectic affair. By this point, a dozen rumours about Snape were flowing through the school. Harry estimated that by dinner, the entirety of Hogwarts would know exactly what happened to Snape. Well, as exactly as he, Dumbledore and the rest of the staff knew, anyway. Honestly, the morbid air that practically clung to most of the Hogwarts staff should have been a dead giveaway for exactly what had happened to Snape. As a result of the rumours, lunch was chaotic. The air of fear, tension and anxiety was palpable, and it was very clear both by the general twitchiness in the hall and by the countless conversations that were being held in hushed whispers that it was deeply affecting the majority of the student body.

Aside from the entire Heir of Slytherin commotion, there was another reason that Harry had an eventful lunch. About halfway through the meal, one of the school owls landed in front of him at the Gryffindor table with a letter attached to its leg. It was rare that letters or packages were delivered at lunch, but not too rare that it drew an unnecessary amount of attention. Granted, all three of Harry's friends, plus Parvati and Lavender's attention fixed on him all at once. Harry valiantly ignored the lot of them, pulling the letter close to him and opening it precisely, reading it in a manner that would not allow for any of his friends to read it over his shoulder.

Harry,

I can't put up with my house today. Everything's a mess and that atmosphere is making me nuts! Tracey's no better than me. Meet us in our room at around 3:00, will you? I think we all need a break from this garbage, and it seems as good an excuse as any to introduce you to Tracey.

See you soon,

Daphne

'Of all the days.' Harry thought, mentally adding up just how eventful this day had been already. Frankly, he wasn't sure how much more eventfulness he could take today. Still, he realized how important it was to Daphne to have a distraction. Well, truthfully, he'd never have noticed, if not for her letter. It carried none of the usual teasing that the two of them partook in, and that, to Harry, was as much of an indicator as anything that she really wasn't kidding about needing a distraction.

"Who's that from?" Ron asked, just barely managing to be comprehensible in spite of his mouth full of potatoes.

"A friend." Harry answered, not exactly knowing how else to word it. None of his friends knew that he spent time with Daphne. Granted, they had noticed, by now, that Harry had a habit of slipping away at the same time each week. He had managed to convince both Dean and Ron that this was simply regimented spell practice, but Neville hadn't been fooled as easily. In saying that, it was a true mark of their friendship that he hadn't gone and blabbed about his suspicions to Ron, Dean, or anyone else, for that matter.

Speaking of Neville, the boy's smirk suddenly turned predatory. "So you and your French friend are writing to each other now?"

Harry had a split second decision to make. Either A, he could agree with Neville and get the mickey taken out of him for the rest of time over something that was not and would never be. Or B, Harry could admit right then and there that he was friends with a Slytherin girl and that he'd hidden it for the better part of a year. Honestly, Harry preferred banter to conflict, so he just sighed. "Guilty as charged, I guess."

Neville's smirk grew still wider as Lavender and Parvati leaned in to ask who Harry's "French friend" was. It appeared that this really was going to be an exceptionally long day.

Later, in an abandoned classroom…

Luckily for Harry, Daphne and Tracey, the rules of the castle had not yet been tightened to an extreme degree. Dumbledore had told Harry that would be happening very soon but evidently, the teachers did not want to insight panic just yet. This allowed the three of them to easily meet up in the abandoned classroom often used by Harry and Daphne for their own meetings. This time, Harry was surprised to find that Daphne had arrived before him. Judging by the way the sea green eyes of the small, strawberry blonde girl snapped to him immediately upon his entrance, he assumed that she was the reason Daphne had been so punctual this time.

"Wow," Harry observed, "I think this might be the first time you've ever beaten me here." Technically, it was the second, but that was beside the point. The other time had been after their Halloween disaster, so neither of them wanted to speak on it.

"Punctuality is the politeness of purebloods." Daphne responded without missing a beat.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Where did a twelve or thirteen-year-old girl learn that expression?"

"My mother." Daphne said. "She says it almost every time somebody is late to something. I knew of it when I was probably six or seven, even though I clearly had no idea what it meant." As she finished her statement, the other girl in the room cleared her throat, drawing the attention of both of the room's other occupants. "Right," Daphne observed, "and this one has so little patience that if you're not punctual, it might just rip your head off."

"I can hear you, you know." Tracey answered with a roll of her eyes, springing to her feet and marching towards Harry, hand outstretched. Tracey actually seemed… surprised, when Harry greeted her in a more traditional manner, something Harry definitely took note of for later. "So you're the reason Daphne's been sneaking off every week." Tracey said, eyeing Harry up and down with what appeared to be rabid curiosity.

"Uh… I guess so. Harry Potter, Heir of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter. A pleasure to meet you, Miss Davis."

"Can we just not use all of the formal stuff tonight, please?" Tracey asked, taking Harry aback once more. "Sorry," she said, seemingly coming to the realization of exactly how blunt that statement had been. "It's just… you get really sick of hearing that after being in Slytherin for a year and a half, and my family's hardly important enough to be looking for an alliance from yours anyway, so…"

In that moment, Harry wondered exactly how Daphne and Tracey were friends. Perhaps there was more to the time old adage "opposites attract". Perhaps that hypothesis really did refer to more than just magnets. Daphne was aloof and carried a cold exterior, at least until she warmed up to you, which took a considerable period of time. Even then, she was very carefully modulated. Harry got the impression that Daphne didn't really have slip-ups. If she wanted you to know something, you'd know it, if she didn't, you wouldn't. Tracey was very different though. She seemed personable to a fault and had practically dove head first into the conversation, throwing any and all caution to the wind. For all Harry could tell, he'd never have guessed the two of them were in rival houses, let alone the fact they had never met before now.

"Uh… sure, if you'd like. I'm not too bothered with them either, really. I just try and err on the safe side, you know?"

"A Gryffindor, on the safe side?" Tracey said, smirking.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Well, I don't see every Slytherin strutting about the castle, acting like they own the place. That's just Draco Malfoy. Same with Gryffindor, really. Just because some of us are idiots, doesn't mean that all of us are idiots."

Tracey shrugged. "I guess so, but it's a bit different, isn't it? I mean, bravery and all that is a thing for Gryffindor. Being a prat isn't just for Slytherin, that's just how some people are."

"Bravery doesn't mean you have to be stupid about it, though. Dumbledore was a Gryffindor, and, say what you want about him, but when has he ever run head first into anything?"

Tracey giggled and glanced towards Daphne. "I like this one, Daph! I can see why you two might get along." She turned back to Harry. "You're a Gryffindor, which means you're probably decent. You're smart, but not like Granger. You don't seem like a know-it-all, or anything."

"Um… thanks, I guess." Harry said, scratching his head distractedly. He wasn't quite sure how to handle Tracey Davis, as of yet. "Thanks for the Christmas present, by the way. I'm… sorry I didn't get you anything. I didn't really expect anything from you."

Tracey waved him off. "It was nothing big, don't worry about it. I just wanted to show you that I was more like Daphne and not so much like Malfoy, you know?"

"Yeah," Harry said, "not a prat and all that." Then, he smirked at Daphne, who had thus far just stood by and watched. "Daphne definitely has her moments too, though."

"Careful, Harry." She warned sweetly.

Tracey giggled. "Oh, you have no idea! You should see the things she says about Crabbe, Goyle and Malfoy." She smirked maliciously. "And Parkinson; especially Parkinson."

"Tracey." Daphne cut in, but she was far too late. Much like Harry's friends had ganged up on him earlier today while badgering him about his non-existent relationship with Gabrielle, it was now Harry and Tracey's turn to gang up on Daphne, and Harry thought maybe, just maybe, there would be some positives to today.

Some time later, on his way back to the dormitories…

Harry had barely made it a corridor down after departing from his meeting with Daphne when a sudden sound caught his attention. On edge as he was, Harry's wand snapped into his hand at once. Mercifully, he spotted two familiar heads of red hair and sighed, willingly following the Weasley twins into an abandoned classroom not unlike the one he had just vacated. "Don't do that!" He exclaimed. "Not with some psychopathic Heir of Slytherin roaming the school, at least. I thought I was about to get attacked!"

"Easy does it, mate." George said with a smirk.

"Yeah, don't fret," Fred added, "I'm sure if the Heir was going to attack you, they wouldn't bother warning you first."

Harry just glared back at them. "You're not helping, you know?"

"Helping, of course not." Fred said, as if affronted. "When has that ever been our intention after being mischievous?"

When Harry continued to look annoyed, the twins exchanged a look, clearly partaking in one of their internal conversations. "Ok, fine." George acquiesced. "We'll try not to scare the living daylights out of you until this whole 'Heir' business has been resolved."

"Lovely," Harry deadpanned, "now, why exactly did you drag me into an abandoned classroom?"

"I think you'll find that you came quite willingly, Harrikins."

"And besides, you'd have known if you were looking at the map."

Harry almost facepalmed; they were right, of course. It had just not become instinct as of yet for him to view the map constantly. It was still a tool that he repeatedly had to remind himself he possessed.

"Speaking of the map," George continued, "that's kind of why we called you in here."

"Well," Fred elaborated, "not the map, exactly, but something to do with it."

Harry crooked an eyebrow, intrigued. "More specifically?"

"Well," George started, "Snape went missing and nobody knows where he is. There are all kinds of wild rumours flying around and we, as the noble pursuers of truth that we are, would like to know if there is anything behind any of these fantastical rumours, or if old slime ball's just taking a day off. Partied too hard, perhaps." Despite the graveness of the situation at hand, Harry almost snorted at the thought. The image of Snape partying was practically an impossibility.

"If only somebody could find out." Fred continued. "Somebody who could… jeez, I don't know — see exactly where every person in the castle is at all times?"

Harry actually did facepalm now. He was such an idiot! If only he'd have thought of the map earlier in Dumbledore's office, they could've known exactly where Snape had been…

"You're having a laugh, right?" George asked, incredulous at Harry's display.

"No," Fred mused with narrowed eyes, "I think he's serious."

"YOU ACTUALLY NEVER THOUGHT TO CHECK THE MAP?" They exclaimed in unison.

Harry winced. "I'm still getting used to just having all of that at my disposal, ok." Harry defended weakly, removing the map from his robes and tapping it with the tip of his wand. "I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good." Immediately, the map blossomed to life upon the piece of parchment and Harry quickly gestured for the twins to join him in scanning the map. After several minutes of searching, the trio of Gryffindor boys came to a most startling revelation.

Severus Snape was nowhere to be found on the Marauder's Map.

Harry turned to the twins. "You can't tell anyone about this!" He hissed. "This is serious."

Their eyes narrowed. "You knew about this, didn't you?" George asked.

"That he hadn't just buggered off for the day." Fred elaborated.

Harry sighed. "Yes, I knew, ok. Dumbledore told me this morning because he thinks it's me the Heir of Slytherin wants. He thinks the Heir went after Snape, but seriously, I NEED your word that you won't tell anyone this! Not that Snape's not in the castle, not that you know anything other than the fact that he hasn't been seen today!"

"Harry," George started, "I know we're hardly the paragons of rule following, but this is big. Dumbledore… somebody needs to know about this."

"And they will!" Harry said vehemently. "I just need to drop my stuff off in the dorm and then I'll run straight to Dumbledore's office, I promise."

The twins exchanged looks. "Well," Fred started, "if you're sure.

"I am."

"Then we promise." The twins said as one.

Ten minutes later, in the Gryffindor Dormitories…

When Harry entered his dormitory, he knew immediately that something was not quite right. In spite of the revelation, it took him a significant period of time to spot exactly what it was. There was a plain, black book resting on Harry's bed. He frowned, stepping cautiously towards it. He honestly wasn't entirely sure what it was, but he knew for a fact that he owned no such book. When he got closer, he realized it wasn't quite as plain as he thought. There was a name embossed on the front of the book, a name that, for some reason, rang bells in Harry's brain. But still, he couldn't connect it.

Tom Riddle.

Glancing around the room to make sure it was empty, Harry gingerly took a seat on his bed beside the book. Absentmindedly, he wondered who on Earth would have left him what appeared to be some sort of journal or diary. Ordinarily, he may have connected the dots and assumed it was somebody named Tom Riddle. The thing was, Harry did not know anybody named Tom Riddle, at least not that he was aware of. Sitting beside the book though... it was giving him a definite feeling of unease.

Carefully, Harry withdrew his wand and aimed it at the book, as if worried it may spring at him like some rabid beast. It didn't, and Harry frowned. His arsenal of detection spells was hardly vast, but he knew some of the more basic ones and couldn't imagine that a book like this carried too elaborate of an enchantment. When all of his spells yielded no results, Harry cautiously scooped up the book and opened it to the first page. To his surprise, there was nothing written.

This continued for some minutes. Harry flipped through page after page, waiting to find something, anything written. But he never did. It was odd because still, Harry felt distinctly uneasy, especially since he had started holding the book. There was definitely something not so ordinary about this tome. Harry set the book down and quickly retrieved a quill before returning. He wasn't sure exactly what possessed him to write in the book, but he felt as if that would be what yielded results.

And as oddly specific as the thought may have been, it was indeed correct.

Hello, my name's Harry.

After about twenty seconds or so, Harry's words sunk into the parchment, causing his eyes to widen as they were replaced by words in the same colour ink, if admittedly in a much neater scroll.

Hello Harry, my name is Tom — Tom Riddle. I don't suppose you have a surname, do you?

Harry paused with his quill an inch away from the parchment. This would be foolish. Well, the entire idea of him writing in this book was a bit foolish if truth be told, but for him, a fairly famous public figure to surrender his last name to a magical artifact seemingly imbued with the essence of somebody he didn't know…

That depends on why you're interested, I guess.

A pause, and then…

Well, I've heard many things about a certain Harry Potter, one who I've been hoping to speak to for some time now. I've heard that there's a plot that he has most unfortunately found himself in the middle of. I thought I could perhaps be of some assistance to Mister Potter, but if you're not who I'm looking for, is there any chance you could possibly find me the man in question?

Harry's heart froze at the message. This whole thing seemed entirely too suspicious, too specific. But, if this Tom Riddle knew anything about the plot going on at Hogwarts… Harry didn't have to trust him. It was just a book, after all. It couldn't do him any harm to see what Tom Riddle had to say. If it turned out to be useless, it was hardly the end of the world. It certainly wouldn't put him in any worse a position than the one he was in now.

This is Harry Potter, yes. I'm a bit… cautious when it comes to talking about plots with a stranger who I don't know. Maybe you could specify the plot to make sure I'm not being misled?

But of course. Tom Riddle wrote back. That's a wise choice, Harry Potter. I'm talking about the plot going on at Hogwarts. The one involving the Chamber of Secrets.

Harry's heart skipped a beat. Do you know anything about the Chamber of Secrets?

Oh, I know a great deal about the Chamber of Secrets, Harry. More than anybody at Hogwarts right now, at least. You see, I was a student about fifty years ago when the chamber was opened for the first time. You might recognize my name if you've stopped by the trophy room. I actually received an award for special services to the school for a matter closely related to the Chamber of Secrets. More specifically, the capturing of the person who opened it.

And it clicked. That was exactly where Harry recognized the name Tom Riddle from. That wasn't what had his heart racing, though. That would be the fact that this Tom Riddle seemed to know exactly who had opened the chamber the first time. And if Dumbledore was to be believed, that may be an integral piece in solving who exactly opened the chamber this time.

Tom, if you know who opened the Chamber of Secrets, please tell me! You have no idea how useful this information could be.

I can do better than tell you, Harry. I can show you.

And moments later, Harry felt himself spiralling downwards into memories, not even remotely prepared for what he would see next.

Harry could not believe the scene in front of him as he watched Tom Riddle turn in Hagrid for opening the Chamber of Secrets. As the scene was ending, Harry shook his head. "No," he muttered, eyes narrowing, "no, it can't be Hagrid. There's no way it's Hagrid. He'd never open the chamber, and he's sure as hell not Slytherin's Heir. Which means…"

"How perceptive of you, Harry."

The voice seemed to come from everywhere and Harry whirled, raising his wand in a defensive posture. Then, the scene around him faded and he was in complete and total blackness. Except for the lone figure standing in front of him. The figure looked to be a few years older than Harry, possibly fifteen or sixteen. He was quite tall and had black, styled hair, dark blue eyes and sharp, well-defined features that made him look regal.

"It was you." Harry muttered.

"You're more perceptive than I'd thought you, Harry." Riddle said softly, eyeing him up and down. "My sources clearly weren't as well-informed about you as I'd hoped. The plan was never for you to learn the truth, simply for you to come closer to the heart of it all."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry asked, his voice rising in volume as he started to realize the gravity of this situation.

Riddle shrugged. "Make of it what you will, Harry. All you need to know is that you were too clever for your own good. You were supposed to soak up the sob story and move on, not realize that the oaf Hagrid could not possibly be the noble heir of Salazar Slytherin."

"Hagrid is my friend!"

"Was your friend." Riddle corrected softly. "You have no friends now, Harry. At least, you won't very shortly."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked as his grip on his wand tightened and his posture stiffened as he readied himself for an altercation.

Riddle smiled. "Well, you found out too much. Now, you could put it all together. I don't think you'd quite manage that much, but I've underestimated you one too many times already. And even a partial success on your part could be detrimental to my plans. I'm sorry, Harry, but I can't let you leave this diary."

Harry's jaw tightened. "Tough luck, Riddle. Only one of us here has a wand. I might not be able to make heads or tails of any of this right now, but I bet Dumbledore will when I give him the diary."

"I'm afraid you don't quite understand the arena, Harry. I don't need a wand. You are standing in my mental mindscape. I control everything. The arena, the conditions, the outcome. You are in my domain. I can control every element with a simple thought."

Harry lunged forward and slashed his wand towards Riddle, sending a grossly overpowered cutting curse in his general direction. Instead of blocking, Riddle simply faded straight out of existence, leaving Harry in the vast nothingness alone.

"Riddle!" Harry screamed. "Don't run from me, you coward! Fight back!"

As soon as Harry said this, something smashed into him hard, sending him careening forward. When he tried to stand and see what had hit him, he was grabbed by some invisible force and hurled through the air. Suddenly, a wall solidified just in time for Harry to slam into it, hard, and slump to the floor.

Riddle hadn't been lying. The very environment was on his side.

But then…

He had also said that Harry was in his mental mindscape. Quickly, Harry opened another thought stream, wincing at the stab of pain in his head as he mulled all of this over in seconds. If he was in Riddle's mindscape, that implied metaphysical. That meant Harry wasn't in the diary at all. In fact, he was still likely sitting in his dormitory, probably peering down at the diary with a blank look on his face.

Looking at the diary… mental mindscape…

And just like that, the dots connected.

It was Legilimency.

Well, not true Legilimency, but something oddly similar. Reverse Legilimency, almost. Riddle had pulled Harry into his mindscape, which meant that technically, this was a mental assault, not a physical one. Immediately, Harry tried to clear his mind but found that it did nothing. So it was still Riddle's domain, then. Riddle wasn't in his mind, Harry was in Riddle's, but the latter was controlling what the former saw and experienced. So, what this meant was that Harry had to break the connection on Riddle's end. Which meant that somehow, he needed to take control of the situation.

"Fight me yourself, Riddle!" Harry cried out as he was struck hard across the face. "What are you trying to do, prove my point? Can you not beat a twelve-year-old on your own?" Harry didn't exactly have the highest of hopes that his rather juvenile attempt would yield any results but to his surprise, Riddle blinked back into existence.

"If you wish." Riddle acquiesced, and suddenly, Riddle was twenty feet tall, armed with a sword and dressed in rather ostentatious armour. Before he could do so much as advance, Harry leapt to his feet, having been playing possum a moment later and aimed his wand at Riddle, casting a spell he had never once used before, consequences be damned.

"LEGILIMENS!"

Harry had never used Legilimency before. Both of his two Occlumency texts and his teacher had preached the same philosophy. He would not be learning Legilimency until he had a very firm basis in Occlumency. But, armed with the knowledge that he had to take control of the situation, this was the best way he could think to do so. Plus, it wasn't as if he actually needed the psychic attack to work.

In the second before the spell took effect, Harry had enough time to see Riddle's eyes widen. Then, he was suddenly rushing forward towards those dark eyes. For an instant, Harry saw flashes too fast for him to make sense of. Then, he could feel himself being pulled forward again and instinctively, he knew that he was being pulled into some kind of mental trap. With every fibre of his being, Harry focused on breaking the connection as he turned his head away from Riddle. Immediately, Harry was back in nothingness, but the darkness suddenly seemed… distorted, not quite so solid. Riddle had diverted his attention from maintaining the mindscape to focusing on defending himself against Harry, and that was all the opening Harry needed.

"BOMBARDA!"

Harry fired the most drastically overpowered blasting curse he could possibly conjure up straight into the nothingness and with a cry of pain as he clamped his hand to his head, Riddle fell to his knees before, mercifully, with a gasp much like one may experience after surviving a near drowning, Harry came to once more in the Gryffindor common room, with the seemingly innocent diary laying open across his lap.

At once, Harry slammed the diary shut and thrust it into a pocket of his robes. Then, he scrambled to his feet, throwing his father's cloak over top of himself as he bolted from the Gryffindor dorms, completely ignoring the fact that several hours had very obviously passed, seeing as it was now dark outside. There was only one thought racing through Harry's mind.

Get the book to Dumbledore.

Author's Endnote:

I know this is a shorter chapter, but it is what it is, really.

I'm trying to space all of this out in a manner that doesn't feel rushed, but I also don't want to just throw in filler to make the chapters longer than they need to be.

The Chamber of Secrets plot is going to be wrapping up quite soon, so I hope you're all excited for that.

Please read and review.

PS: The next chapter will be posted next Sunday, July 12th, 2020 at approximately 3:00 PM EST.