Plot Bunny #2: What If...Tom Riddle's Diary-Memory Self Had a Different
Motive?
Taken from: The Chamber of Secrets (movie)
Scene that inspired ficlet: Tom Riddle shows Harry a memory in the diary
Category: AU approach
Rating: PG
Mini-note: This fic incorporates several alternate devices. Tom Riddle plans something different, Ron and Hermione are in the room when Harry writes in the diary, and Harry DOESN'T talk out loud when writing.
~~~~~~
"You mean it's totally BLANK?" Ron's voice held a note of disbelief.
"Absolutely," Harry confirmed, flipping through the pages again just to double-check. "There's nothing written in here. Only text on the whole thing is his name, on the cover."
"Why would anyone want to flush an empty diary down a toilet?" Hermione wondered, bewildered.
"Maybe it was a prank," Ron suggested, shrugging.
"A prank on a bathroom no one uses?"
Harry tuned out the bickering and accidentally spilled his ink bottle across the diary. He was about ready to mop it up with a rag when the paper began to absorb the ink. His eyes widened as the black liquid sank into the parchment, vanishing without a trace. He hastily turned a few pages, expecting to find the bleedthrough, and found nothing at all.
He stared at it for a moment as if it would bite him. He picked up his quill, dipped it in what was left of his ink, and scrawled 'My name is Harry Potter' on the open page. His words faded into the parchment, replaced by a new set of words in a fancier yet male hand. 'Hello, Harry Potter. My name is Tom Riddle.'
"Ron, Hermione, look at this!" he blurted out, even as the words disappeared.
The two immediately ceased their arguement and came to peer over his shoulder at the diary. "I don't see anything," Hermione said, sounding disappointed.
"No, look at this," Harry interrupted, and wrote 'Do you know anything about the Chamber of Secrets?' on the waterstained parchment. Ron and Hermione made identical gasps of astonishment as the ink vanished into the book, but were even more shellshocked when the word 'Yes' appeared where Harry's writing had been, in an unfamiliar script.
"The diary must be enchanted!" Ron exclaimed. "Whoever wrote it gave the diary their personality and memories, so it can write back."
"Quick, Harry, ask him what he knows!" Hermione urged him.
Harry wrote down 'Can you tell me?' in somewhat big letters.
'No' the diary replied, and Harry threw down his quill in frustration. "So much for that idea," he grumbled. "And I thought we were getting somewhere- "
He stopped as new words appeared on the page. 'But I can show you.' Harry glanced back at Ron and Hermione, an uneasy look on his face. He looked back to the diary, which now displayed 'Let me take you back fifty years ago...'
The diary itself suddenly exploded into motion, flipping pages by itself and stopping somewhere in the middle. '13th June' appeared in the corner, and Harry leaned forward to watch for any new text. His eyes widened as the crease between the pages began to glow a blinding light, spreading across the pages and up Harry's forearms. He stared into the light unblinkingly, eyes wide with sudden horror.
"Harry, what's wrong?" Hermione demanded anxiously.
Harry moved as if to leap away from the diary, and abruptly vanished into nothingness. The diary closed itself, and if an emotion could be applied to an inanimate object, it could be described as pleased with itself.
~~~~~~
Harry found himself in a swirling room, black tendrils wrapping around him and binding his arms to his sides. He opened his mouth to yell, and an ebony tentacle slapped itself over his mouth, gagging him. He thrashed, but the strange living ropes continued to wrap around him. Remembering the Devil's Snare from first year, he stopped moving. He wasn't freed, but at least he wasn't being further immobilized.
A strange cackling laugh came from the darkness, and a shadowy figure stepped out. It was a young man, perhaps sixteen years of age, wearing Hogwarts robes with the Slytherin color scheme. His dark hair, somewhat ruffled yet neat, served only to make his skin appear even more pale. Dark reddish eyes that bordered on black burned into Harry's green ones.
"So," he said, "this is the famous Harry Potter." His voice took on a sneering tone at the last words, as he looked the thoroughly bound boy over. "You're not what I expected."
Harry glared at him, hateful of his inability to speak back.
"A long time have I waited for a suitable host," the man - whom Harry realized must be Tom Riddle - continued, as if he hadn't noticed Harry's ire. "Ginny Weasley was not quite suited for me, both in body and in magical energy. A weak, silly little girl. But you..." Tom reached over and lightly touched Harry's face. Harry flinched, feeling as if something slimy was crawling on his skin. At the same time, his scar began to ache. But Tom pressed even harder, his finger moving up to the lightning bolt scar that made the young Gryffindor so unique. "I can't think of anyone stronger to use for my purposes," Riddle decided. "A young boy like you must be strong in magical talent if you were able to defeat the greatest wizard in history when you were nothing but an infant."
Harry wanted to retort with, "Lord Voldemort was just a bully who thought he held power!" but the black vine prevented him from getting anything intelligible out. Well, that in addition to the increasing pain in his scar.
"And taking into the consideration that you are also a parselmouth, well..." Tom Riddle paused. "That just makes you even more suitable. Ginny couldn't pronouce parseltongue properly; she's not made for it. No woman is. But you...you already have a flawless grip on the language. Quite commendable for someone your age."
He abruptly leaned back as if to look over Harry again. "Yes, yes, we are quite similar, you and I. Not only in appearance but in our histories. Both orphans, part-Muggle though we be, with extraordinary magical talent including the parselmouth gift. It's only too bad you aren't a Slytherin, though you certainly act somewhat like one."
Harry tried to hide his flinch. If Riddle only knew how close he was...
"But no matter," Riddle said, straightening. "We are compatible, and that's all that matters. You've had your last moments of control, Harry. Your body is mine now!" He spread his fingers, letting green lightning crackle and sizzle in his hands as he laughed wildly.
~~~~~~
Ron and Hermione watched anxiously as the diary twitched occasionally. "D'you suppose that was meant to happen?" Ron asked.
"I don't know," Hermione admitted. "He has been in there an awfully long time..."
She trailed off as a blinding glow began to emanate from the closed pages of the book. It suddenly burst open, flipping pages and increasing the glow by the minute. A dark figure was flung from the pages, landing in Hary's abandoned chair. The glow faded, letting Ron and Hermione see the crumpled form clearly.
"Harry!"
Harry slowly raised his head, looking dazed and out of sorts. "...uh?"
Ron helped his friend to an upright position while Hermione pelted him with questions. "Are you okay? What happened to you? What did you see? Did you find out where the Chamber of Secrets is? How-"
"Jeez, 'Mione, give him a minute to adjust," Ron interrupted. "Harry, mate, you okay there?"
Harry blinked a few times. "Yeah, I think so. That was really weird." He eyed the book as if it were a poisonous scorpion. "That thing's evil. Whoever tried to get rid of it was right to do so. It's not what it seems at all." He picked up the innocent-looking book and held it like a dead rat. With a flick of his wrist, he tossed it into the fireplace. The flames quickly devoured the parchment, but made slower work of the leather cover.
"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, shocked. "We should've taken it to Dumbledore!"
Harry regarded her somewhat oddly, then shrugged. "Oh well, too late now. Come on, we've got to talk to the Headmaster. I think I know who's opened the Chamber of Secrets."
Ron and Hermione stared at him, but he ignored them and started towards the portrait hole. They scrambled after him as it was made clear that he wasn't going to wait up for them. Unseen to them, Harry's face was twisted into an uncharacteristic sneer at the thought of pinning the blame on the same person yet again.
And in the burning pages of the diary, Harry James Potter screamed.
Taken from: The Chamber of Secrets (movie)
Scene that inspired ficlet: Tom Riddle shows Harry a memory in the diary
Category: AU approach
Rating: PG
Mini-note: This fic incorporates several alternate devices. Tom Riddle plans something different, Ron and Hermione are in the room when Harry writes in the diary, and Harry DOESN'T talk out loud when writing.
~~~~~~
"You mean it's totally BLANK?" Ron's voice held a note of disbelief.
"Absolutely," Harry confirmed, flipping through the pages again just to double-check. "There's nothing written in here. Only text on the whole thing is his name, on the cover."
"Why would anyone want to flush an empty diary down a toilet?" Hermione wondered, bewildered.
"Maybe it was a prank," Ron suggested, shrugging.
"A prank on a bathroom no one uses?"
Harry tuned out the bickering and accidentally spilled his ink bottle across the diary. He was about ready to mop it up with a rag when the paper began to absorb the ink. His eyes widened as the black liquid sank into the parchment, vanishing without a trace. He hastily turned a few pages, expecting to find the bleedthrough, and found nothing at all.
He stared at it for a moment as if it would bite him. He picked up his quill, dipped it in what was left of his ink, and scrawled 'My name is Harry Potter' on the open page. His words faded into the parchment, replaced by a new set of words in a fancier yet male hand. 'Hello, Harry Potter. My name is Tom Riddle.'
"Ron, Hermione, look at this!" he blurted out, even as the words disappeared.
The two immediately ceased their arguement and came to peer over his shoulder at the diary. "I don't see anything," Hermione said, sounding disappointed.
"No, look at this," Harry interrupted, and wrote 'Do you know anything about the Chamber of Secrets?' on the waterstained parchment. Ron and Hermione made identical gasps of astonishment as the ink vanished into the book, but were even more shellshocked when the word 'Yes' appeared where Harry's writing had been, in an unfamiliar script.
"The diary must be enchanted!" Ron exclaimed. "Whoever wrote it gave the diary their personality and memories, so it can write back."
"Quick, Harry, ask him what he knows!" Hermione urged him.
Harry wrote down 'Can you tell me?' in somewhat big letters.
'No' the diary replied, and Harry threw down his quill in frustration. "So much for that idea," he grumbled. "And I thought we were getting somewhere- "
He stopped as new words appeared on the page. 'But I can show you.' Harry glanced back at Ron and Hermione, an uneasy look on his face. He looked back to the diary, which now displayed 'Let me take you back fifty years ago...'
The diary itself suddenly exploded into motion, flipping pages by itself and stopping somewhere in the middle. '13th June' appeared in the corner, and Harry leaned forward to watch for any new text. His eyes widened as the crease between the pages began to glow a blinding light, spreading across the pages and up Harry's forearms. He stared into the light unblinkingly, eyes wide with sudden horror.
"Harry, what's wrong?" Hermione demanded anxiously.
Harry moved as if to leap away from the diary, and abruptly vanished into nothingness. The diary closed itself, and if an emotion could be applied to an inanimate object, it could be described as pleased with itself.
~~~~~~
Harry found himself in a swirling room, black tendrils wrapping around him and binding his arms to his sides. He opened his mouth to yell, and an ebony tentacle slapped itself over his mouth, gagging him. He thrashed, but the strange living ropes continued to wrap around him. Remembering the Devil's Snare from first year, he stopped moving. He wasn't freed, but at least he wasn't being further immobilized.
A strange cackling laugh came from the darkness, and a shadowy figure stepped out. It was a young man, perhaps sixteen years of age, wearing Hogwarts robes with the Slytherin color scheme. His dark hair, somewhat ruffled yet neat, served only to make his skin appear even more pale. Dark reddish eyes that bordered on black burned into Harry's green ones.
"So," he said, "this is the famous Harry Potter." His voice took on a sneering tone at the last words, as he looked the thoroughly bound boy over. "You're not what I expected."
Harry glared at him, hateful of his inability to speak back.
"A long time have I waited for a suitable host," the man - whom Harry realized must be Tom Riddle - continued, as if he hadn't noticed Harry's ire. "Ginny Weasley was not quite suited for me, both in body and in magical energy. A weak, silly little girl. But you..." Tom reached over and lightly touched Harry's face. Harry flinched, feeling as if something slimy was crawling on his skin. At the same time, his scar began to ache. But Tom pressed even harder, his finger moving up to the lightning bolt scar that made the young Gryffindor so unique. "I can't think of anyone stronger to use for my purposes," Riddle decided. "A young boy like you must be strong in magical talent if you were able to defeat the greatest wizard in history when you were nothing but an infant."
Harry wanted to retort with, "Lord Voldemort was just a bully who thought he held power!" but the black vine prevented him from getting anything intelligible out. Well, that in addition to the increasing pain in his scar.
"And taking into the consideration that you are also a parselmouth, well..." Tom Riddle paused. "That just makes you even more suitable. Ginny couldn't pronouce parseltongue properly; she's not made for it. No woman is. But you...you already have a flawless grip on the language. Quite commendable for someone your age."
He abruptly leaned back as if to look over Harry again. "Yes, yes, we are quite similar, you and I. Not only in appearance but in our histories. Both orphans, part-Muggle though we be, with extraordinary magical talent including the parselmouth gift. It's only too bad you aren't a Slytherin, though you certainly act somewhat like one."
Harry tried to hide his flinch. If Riddle only knew how close he was...
"But no matter," Riddle said, straightening. "We are compatible, and that's all that matters. You've had your last moments of control, Harry. Your body is mine now!" He spread his fingers, letting green lightning crackle and sizzle in his hands as he laughed wildly.
~~~~~~
Ron and Hermione watched anxiously as the diary twitched occasionally. "D'you suppose that was meant to happen?" Ron asked.
"I don't know," Hermione admitted. "He has been in there an awfully long time..."
She trailed off as a blinding glow began to emanate from the closed pages of the book. It suddenly burst open, flipping pages and increasing the glow by the minute. A dark figure was flung from the pages, landing in Hary's abandoned chair. The glow faded, letting Ron and Hermione see the crumpled form clearly.
"Harry!"
Harry slowly raised his head, looking dazed and out of sorts. "...uh?"
Ron helped his friend to an upright position while Hermione pelted him with questions. "Are you okay? What happened to you? What did you see? Did you find out where the Chamber of Secrets is? How-"
"Jeez, 'Mione, give him a minute to adjust," Ron interrupted. "Harry, mate, you okay there?"
Harry blinked a few times. "Yeah, I think so. That was really weird." He eyed the book as if it were a poisonous scorpion. "That thing's evil. Whoever tried to get rid of it was right to do so. It's not what it seems at all." He picked up the innocent-looking book and held it like a dead rat. With a flick of his wrist, he tossed it into the fireplace. The flames quickly devoured the parchment, but made slower work of the leather cover.
"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, shocked. "We should've taken it to Dumbledore!"
Harry regarded her somewhat oddly, then shrugged. "Oh well, too late now. Come on, we've got to talk to the Headmaster. I think I know who's opened the Chamber of Secrets."
Ron and Hermione stared at him, but he ignored them and started towards the portrait hole. They scrambled after him as it was made clear that he wasn't going to wait up for them. Unseen to them, Harry's face was twisted into an uncharacteristic sneer at the thought of pinning the blame on the same person yet again.
And in the burning pages of the diary, Harry James Potter screamed.