Huffily Puffily

by quizzlers

Lucy was brought to Wool's Orphanage with no last name, and this suits her just fine. As she befriends the Boy-Who-Lived, she can't seem to kick her unfortunate habit of meeting the Dark Lord— and what's worse, living to tell the tale.

50. Tom Marvolo Riddle

She awoke to the feeling of cold, wet stone on her cheek. And for a beautiful moment, there was nothing, nothing but the fleeting moment of oblivion between sleeping and consciousness.

She wished she could remain there forever, but as soon as her eyes fluttered open, all her senses came rushing back to her. Tremors wracked her body, her little heart pounding furiously in her rib cage. Her muscles refused to stay still; they twitched and shook as if they were still being assaulted by the Cruciatus curse, and her head throbbed worse than it ever had before.

But worst of all— the most intense pain— was the sting of betrayal in her chest, burning more with every passing moment.

Voldemort.

How was he Voldemort? Why was he Voldemort? The boy who killed Flint and Pucey in front of her was something she never could have conceived. Tom was calm and tactical. Torturing and killing three people in a fit of rage was not like him. And yet, he'd done it. He'd cast the Killing Curse as if it was the most natural act in the world, and he'd laughed about it. Those boys' lifeless bodies dropping to the floor sent a tidal wave of nausea over her.

She clamped a hand over her mouth, feeling like she was going to throw up. She remembered the smell of the room; not from their bodies, but from the Killing Curse. It had reeked of death, and the smell lingered. It stuck to the inside of her lungs.

Voldemort.

Why... Why did he have to be Voldemort? She thought of everything he told her, and in return, everything she told him. He'd been so interested in Voldemort. Appraising him lightly, but not enough for her to find it particularly suspicious. He'd been so horrified to find out about Lord Voldemort's fall from power; he'd been disgusted by it.

Oh god... She'd let Voldemort near Harry Potter. She told Voldemort about how Harry Potter brought about his defeat, twice. She couldn't believe she hadn't already gotten everyone killed.

It wasn't as if she wasn't usedto being in dangerous situations. But this one was different. This was personal. She cared about Tom; he knew some of her deepest secrets, and in return, she thought he cared about her, too.

She sucked in a deep breath, squeezing her eyes shut. Her eyes burned with tears, and she had to fight them back. She had to get a hold of herself. She had to get out of here. Shakily, she tried to push herself off the ground.

She got on one knee to push herself up with her hand, when a cold grip clamped down on her shoulder, gently pushing her back down. "Don't bother," a calm voice said. She opened her eyes, staring at the ground. She saw a familiar set of legs out of the corner of her eye.

Slowly, she pulled her gaze up to face him. Face Voldemort.

He tilted his head as he stared down at her. His face was void of any emotion. He crouched in front her to meet her eye level. He said nothing, just staring.

She remembered how many times that same face had smiled at her and told her stories, and she tried not to collapse again then and there.

"Voldemort," she uttered, testing out the words again. "You're Voldemort." Her voice cracked at the end. Whether it was out of emotion or because her throat was shot from screaming, she couldn't decide.

Tom reached forward and plucked a cobweb out of her hair. She flinched backward slightly at the movement, but he simply flicked it off into the distance. When he turned back to her, his previously blank eyes were full of wonder. Excitement.

"Do you know where we are, Lucy?" He asked, his voice low.

She stared back, lost. She couldn't think of anything else right now other than the fact that she was staring Lord Voldemort in the eyes right now. She couldn't care less about the huge, mossy cavern around her. She didn't know what to say, or if she could say anything. And so, she stayed silent, looking at him with a touch of fear.

The corner of his lip turned upward. "This is the room of my ancestors. This—" he gestured widely with one arm. "—is the Chamber of Secrets... isn't it wonderful?"

Suddenly Tom pulled her to her feet, turning her around so that she was looking at the statue. Her legs strained to keep standing, and she nearly lost his balance. It was only his tight, nearly painful grip on her shoulders that kept her from falling completely.

Lucy blinked her vision clear, and then she could see it. She felt a lot smaller. The Statue of Salazar Slytherin was as high as the Chamber of Secrets itself; she had to crane her neck up to see its imposing face. A long, twisted beard met the bottom of the grand wizard's robes and brushed against the mossy floor.

"Why are we here...?" she began to ask. She thought that Tom would have left the castle entirely. She trailed off as her eyes fell upon something in between Salazar Slytherin's feet. At first, she thought it was a pile of robes. As she squinted, she could see it clearly. A red-haired girl lay still on the ground, her face whiter than snow.

Her eyes widened. "Ginny!" She tried to tear out of Tom's grip, but he pulled her backward. He scoffed lightly as she tried to elbow him in the side. "Let me go, you— did you kill her?!" she demanded.

He crossed over her, smiling. "No," he said. Then he laughed. "At least, not yet."

She stared at him laughing over killing one of her friends. She thought of Daisy and Anthony and Hermione, all petrified by him. She was standing in the Chamber of Secrets that he opened fifty years ago. She realized now that all the lost time before she fell asleep wasn't her questionable memory. She'd thought she was crazy when she'd fall asleep at her desk and wake up in her bed. She wasn't crazy. She'd been getting possessed. How many times had she visited this place without knowing? How many times had the Statue of Salazar Slytherin witnessed her commanding its beast?

This boy, her friend, this creature in front of her, was trying to take away an innocent little girl, one whom she and all the other Weasleys cared for deeply.

And he was laughing about it.

She was terrified, but before she could lose her nerve, she drew back her arm and punched him as hard as she could in the stomach. Tom stumbled back in surprise and she took advantage of the rush of adrenaline coursing through her. She sprinted toward Ginny, landing on her knees in front of the girl. Her knees scraped against the floor and her entire body protested at the movement. She shook the younger girl's shoulders gently, but firmly.

"Ginny— Ginny, wake up!" Lucy urged. She looked around frantically for her wand, but she found nothing. Ginny didn't respond. She didn't even twitch.

Slow footsteps approached. Lucy searched more furiously than ever; she couldn't find any exits anywhere in the Chamber aside from the pipes too far off the ground to reach. Plus, they were too far away from the walls for her to get close— and she was not leaving Ginny. She was about to give up hope, and then she spotted it.

The Diary. It was laying close to Ginny. Lucy snatched it into her hands quickly. Could she get Tom back in it somehow? Un-summon him? As she thought frantically about what to do with it, the diary suddenly went flying out of her hands. She felt a cold presence at her back.

She forgot how to breathe. After a few agonizing moments, she looked up.

Tom was looking down at her, his arms crossed over his chest.

He arched one of his eyebrows. "That wasn't very nice of you," he said. The diary floated next to him. "Going for the diary was a good thought, but you wouldn't have gotten far. This is powerful magic. Virtually, it's indestructible."

"Fascinating," she snapped. "You're still a bastard."

"Technically speaking, my parents were married. But I suppose a little anger is expected. After all the trouble I went through to keep you ignorant, this must be a bit of a shock."

Of course it was shocking and of course she was upset, but none of that mattered right now. She could feel as bad about it as she wanted. She could curse herself to oblivion and back. But her feelings weren't the worst thing at stake here. "I don't care how shocking it is or who you are," she said slowly, as though that would make Tom understand any better. She looked him straight in the eye and glowered at him. "Let. Ginny. Go."

"Hmm..." He pretended to think about it. "No."

"She has nothing to do with any of this!"

"That's just it, isn't it? She wasn't involved at all. And yet, she was idiotic enough to put her nose in my business. If she wasn't such a fool, Montague would be sitting in her spot right now."

She didn't know what he meant by that, but her mouth moved faster than her brain. "Then go get Montague! Leave Ginny alone!" And then when Tom left them alone, she and Ginny could escape. She could tell Dumbledore everything, and then he'd roundhouse kick Tom to wizard-prison or something. She hadn't worked out the logistics yet.

"There's not enough time." He didn't even pretend to look sorry about it. "Besides, the process has already started. She'll be dead by the evening... and then I'll leave this damned diary behind forever."

Process?

Something inside Lucy snapped. It could have been from a number of things. That infuriating smug grin on his face, the way his red demon eyes kept looking at her, or her own lapse in sanity— but suddenly she was on her feet, and her fist swung at Tom Riddle's jaw. The hit landed, but he didn't so much as flinch.

He shot her a flat look. "That doesn't do anything. After this is completed, you may try again."

Even if it didn't hurt, she wanted to do a lot more than punch him. She tried one more time— third time's the charm, right?— when Tom caught her wrist in his hand. "That's enough of that," he warned. "I'd calm down if I were you, dear, otherwise this is going to be a long evening." He had a pleasant smile on his face, but his eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Calm down?" she fixed him with a frustrated look. "How do I put this nicely..." she sucked in a deep breath, leaned closer, and then shouted in his face. "YOU'RE VOLDEMORT! I've been talking to Voldemort all year! You made me petrify my friends, you possessed me for I don't even know how long, and now you're going to kill one of my friends! How the bloody hell do you expect me to calm down?"

Her words should have been angry. She should have been furious, spitting venomous words at him for hours, but all she could feel was a crushing sadness. She tore her wrist out of his hand and stepped away, wiping tears from her eyes. "You're just like Montague," she said, her voice breaking off at the end. She wiped her tears with her sleeve. "You both pretended to be my friend."

Tom looked genuinely stunned. He snapped out of it and took a step forward. "I am your friend," he insisted, laying a hand on his chest. "I am more of your friend than anyone in this school. Everything I've done has been in your best interest. I was aiming for Filch on Halloween night. I was going to get rid of Lockhart because that's what you wanted. And your friends— your pathetic little friends— they stepped all over you like you were nothing. They made you cry. I couldn't let that pass by unforgiven. And Dumbledore— he's been suspicious of you since your first year. I had the common sense to see that you're not a monster, not him. I drove Dumbledore from the castle for you."

What kind of logic was that? She had her differences with her Hufflepuff friends, but that didn't give her, or him, any right to attack them. He didn't get rid of Dumbledore, he got rid of Anthony. He saw how upset she was and then he lied to her about it. He had the nerve to comfort her about it. He lied to her about everything all year long. All that time, Voldemort watched her and her friends investigate, knowing he was the one doing all the attacks. He let her believe Hagrid was involved, that if she went out at night, she could get attacked too. And worst of all, his most grievous offense— he let her believe that he was her friend.

The burn of betrayal was nearly as strong as the Cruciatus. She shook her head in disbelief, breathing faster. The tears were back; this had to be some sort of nightmare. "I— I never wanted any of that— you wanted that..." she sniffed, looking at him. "How could you sit there all year and lie straight to my face?" she said in a small voice.

He walked toward her and placed his hands on each shoulder. He tried to look serious, but he couldn't help but smile. "It was quite easy, actually. I found it amusing at times."

Her eyes flashed, and the stone beneath their feet cracked. The green lanterns on the ceiling flickered.

He noted her accidental magic and made a show of clearing his throat as he shot her a sheepish look. He clasped his hands behind his back and walked away, examining the Chamber. "This wasn't my plan, not in the slightest," he said, trying to change the subject. "When I heard the Mandrakes were going to be ready tonight, I was going to be a lot more subtle. They'd have seen you leading the monster. We'd have to leave, but I was kind enough to give you one last day at Hogwarts, free of any worries. Then we'd leave, undetected. I'd take us to my house in Little Hangleton, grab a pitiful muggle, and return out of the diary fully. You would have been upset, certainly, but I am a patient man. You'd forgive me. You will forgive me. This is a more... troublesome way of going about it, but it's too late to turn back. To return, I need a life for a life."

"Then use mine," she urged, throwing Ginny a concerned look. "Let Ginny go. I was the one who wrote to you in the first place— wouldn't it be easier to use me anyway?"

"It would be easier, yes, and it'd take less time... But, really, Lucy? After all the effort I've gone through to keep you alive? Not likely."

"Why does it matter if I'm alive?" she argued further. She didn't want to die, not in the slightest. The thought terrified her. But this was her mess, not Ginny's. If there was anyone other than Tom to blame for everything this year, it was herself. She'd foolishly trusted Tom Riddle. She was such an idiot, and she would never forgive herself if Ginny died because of her.

"Does it matter? Not particularly," he admitted. His face was blank again as he considered her. "In the grand scheme of things, your life is inconsequential. It's intriguing that we grew up in the same orphanage, but it's not unheard of. You're talented, but you're not a prodigy. You're not very sensible either, and a child can only be so useful." Lucy scowled at him. It was bad enough that she was being kidnapped, did she have to get insulted too.

Tom smirked at her expression and continued. "You are alive, simply put, because I want you to be. You are my friend. Just as you have devoted much of your time to me, I've divulged just as much to you. Do you think that I shared my secrets and spells with you because I had to? Certainly not. If I wanted, I could have played you like a puppet. And yet, I saw potential in you. I like you."

He chuckled all of a sudden, as if he couldn't believe it himself. "And you— you like me. Isn't that strange, Lucy? I didn't have to change myself much for you to adore me. I was as much of Voldemort and I was Tom Riddle. I could be cruel, and you'd laugh. I could make you angry, and you'd forgive me. You treated me just as kindly as you did Potter, Weasley, or Rickett. You were my friend. My only friend. And I, Tom Riddle, Lord Voldemort, am not going to lose that. Not to anything."

She stared, at a loss for words.

He continued anyway; he never grew tired of the sound of his own voice.

"After this is finished with, we'll still go to Little Hangleton. It's my father's house, you know. By the time morning comes around, everyone in Wizarding Britain will assume you and Ms. Weasley here have died." He focused his gaze on her shoulder and smirked. "I might have gotten a little too enthusiastic in my endeavors... Hair grows back, doesn't it?"

Confused, she reached up to touch the spot where her hair should have fallen. Except there was nothing there. She moved her hand up higher, and with a stab of irritation she realized that most of the hair on the left side of her head had been cut to her shoulder. It took her a long time to grow that out after those arseholes at Wool's cut it!

She forgot herself for a moment and said, "What the hell, Tom!"

With a glance toward Ginny she realized there were more important things to worry about. She couldn't help but glower at him all the same.

"I had to use something to prove that you died," he said, not even a little sorry.

She didn't reply, and her legs were hurting too badly to remain standing. She headed over to Ginny without another glance at Tom and lowered herself to the ground beside her. She brought her knees up to her chest, frowning at the stone brick beneath her. She had to think. Forget about the crushing realization that her best friend was Voldemort for a little while, or at least long enough to think a way out of this mess.

She didn't have her wand, she could hardly take a step without collapsing, and she was up against the darkest wizard of all time. Who also happened to know her like the back of his hand. She was tempted, sorely tempted, to just give up. This entire situation was hopeless from the start. She'd never felt so weak and useless, and she hated the feeling. All those spells she'd learned couldn't do anything for her now; she was only a second year, and she had no one to help her.

Something in the back of her mind whispered at her to keep trying. If not for herself, then for Ginny Weasley. For Ron, Fred, George, and Percy, all of whom would be devastated if anything happened to their little sister. For Mrs. Weasley, who'd been so kind as to send her Christmas gifts, even though she'd only met the woman three or four times. She had to try. What would Harry do?

Keep him talking. It worked last year, sort of. Harry kept Quirrell talking, and eventually Dumbledore showed up before they all burned to death. Of course, now she was in the Chamber of Secrets— which had been unknown for centuries— but it was something. Lucy also happened to know Tom Riddle quite well, and she knew he was a horrible braggart.

"Where are we?" she decided at last, pulling her gaze up to Tom. He was a Legilimens, but as she'd proved throughout the entire year, she was a brilliant actress. If anyone had a shot at stalling Lord Voldemort, it was her. "You said the Chamber, but... y'know, where?"

He looked surprised that she was talking to him, but also pleased. "You spent a good deal of your time without even knowing," he said, slightly amused. "All while you and your friends were wasting time brewing a Polyjuice potion, little did you know that the entrance was right in front of you. A little Parseltongue into the faucets does the trick."

She recalled the odd placement of a snake on one of the sinks. He was right; she never would have seen that. She mulled that over for a few moments. Moaning Myrtle's bathroom held the Chamber of Secrets.

"So what the hell were you doing in the girls' bathroom fifty years ago?" she said, slightly disturbed. "That's kind of weird."

He was annoyed at her implications. "Like you, I utilized the snakes once I found out about my true lineage. They travelled through the pipes and found the Chamber's entrance, and then they reported back to me."

Lucy wasn't sure if she believed that.

"Sure," she said. "Then— what's the monster?"

He perked up, giving her a brilliant smile. "A basilisk," he said proudly. "The King of the Serpents. Seeing its pure gaze will kill anyone on the spot. But indirectly, whether it be through a ghost, a puddle, or a mirror, only petrifies them."

...So he was telling her that any one of those petrified victims could have died instead, if the circumstances hadn't been exactly right. She stared at him and his stupid smug expression and said the only thing that could truly express how lowly she thought of him at the moment.

"My god, Tom... You really suck," she said, a good deal of disbelief in her voice. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'd rather be with Old Voldemort right now."

And she was surprised to note that she meant it. Whether it was Quirell's influence or not, Voldemort seemed at the very least logical. She could reason with him, whether it was about the intricacies of nonverbal magic or the animation spell on a wizarding chess board. With Tom, it was like talking to a brick wall. He was... for lack of a better word, kind of immature? It was like he genuinely didn't know how telling her that he could have killed her friends would upset her. As if this was how friendship worked.

Tom's entire demeanor shifted in the blink of an eye. His eyes widened, and his face contorted into a furious scowl. He strode over to her and grabbed the collar of her uniform, pulling her to look him in the eye. "That old fool is nothing compared to me!" he hissed. "He wasted his time on a worthless little boy when he could have taken over the entire world. I am smarter and more logical than he could ever be!" Her eyebrows raised; he'd been reading her mind the entire time? "I won't make that same mistake. I am going to win the war, and he will be nothing but vapor and regret. If I could trap him in this diary, I would in a second."

She'd struck a nerve, she observed. She was surprised. She thought Tom would team up with his old self in a heartbeat. They certainly had everything in common. But he seemed... kind of embarrassed by his other self? She wondered why, and then she realized it. Tom Riddle spent all his time around her, and she made fun of Voldemort so often. She and her friends didn't hold the healthy amount of fear most people had; they besmirched his name on an almost daily basis.

One time in particular, Anthony referred to him as 'That One Baby Killer' and Cedric countered by saying, 'But don't you have to successfully kill a baby for that title?' Tom heard all of this; he heard Voldemort as a joke.

She had a feeling she inadvertently turned Tom against himself.

Lucy felt a bitter sense of satisfaction.

She then glanced at his hands on her collar. It didn't hurt, but it was certainly unnerving. She thought back to his earlier rant— about how he claimed he was her closest friend— and while she was skeptical to believe it, she could try and use that to her advantage.

Carefully, she moved her hands up to his and pried them off of her. He didn't resist, letting her do as he pleased. She pulled her hands away quickly and changed the subject.

"So you're saying, if Harry Potter walked through that door— er, Chamber— right now, you wouldn't try to kill him?" she said, not believing him for a moment. He'd never liked Harry, and now she knew why.

"Of course I'd kill him; he'd get in the way of my plan," Tom dismissed, ignoring the look of horror on her face. "But after we leave here, I won't give the boy another thought. I've seen his abysmal grades—" average grades "—and how thick-brained he is. He's hardly a threat. Once we go to Little Hangleton, I'll call a Death Eater meeting: and then the true conquest can begin."

She shook her head, wide-eyed as she imagined all his servants appearing around them. This was going to happen. She clutched her knees tighter and buried her face into them, taking in a sneaky breath. Tears burned at her eyes and she could no longer do anything to stop them. Ginny was going to die here, and she was never going to see her friends again. She couldn't believe how much she'd made a mess of things. Dumbledore was right to suspect her. Her friends were right to suspect her.

She opened the Chamber of Secrets, and now she was unleashing a vengeful Voldemort onto the world. She imagined how many people would die at his hand because of her actions. How many of those would end up being her friends.

Tom lay a freezing hand on the side of her face. He brought her chin up to face him, and then stared at her quizzically. "I'd never hurt you," he informed her. He'd been reading her mind, by the looks of it; he saw the grim pictures flashing through her brain. He widened his eyes in an attempt to appear innocent. The effect was wholly dulled by the black slits in his pupils, the blood red eyes of a demon.

You already have, she thought.

"I, out of all people, have the right."

"Why couldn't you let it go?" She asked him. Her lower lip trembled, and she tried her hardest to keep from crying. She didn't want to cry in front of him. Not anymore. "Why couldn't you just be my friend? I wouldn't have cared if you were Voldemort if you— if you stopped it. I like you. Why'd you have to ruin everything?"

He looked surprised, and for a split second, regretful. His brow furrowed as he stared over her appearance. Up until now, he'd been nothing but smug and careless about everything. Tom studied her face; she was a sorry sight, trembling and pale from the Cruciatus, a swollen cut going across her cheek, and her hair in disarray. He opened his mouth to say something, and then closed it. He sighed and looked away.

"Nothing's been ruined, Lucy," he said, looking back at her. "I'm still Tom Riddle, and you and I are still a team. Don't think of this as an ending. Instead, think of it as a new beginning— after tonight, we'll be best friends again, you and I. I am only asking you to let this one bad night pass."

At that moment, she was tempted. She wanted to be his friend so, so badly. When he was standing in front of Montague, pointing his wand at her torturer, while she knew he was Voldemort, she couldn't deny how safe she felt. Betrayed, shocked, and mortified, but she knew that he was protecting her. Even now she wanted nothing more than for this all to go away; leaving with Tom didn't sound so terrible.

But Ginny Weasley lay dying right in front of her, and that was something she couldn't excuse. This one bad night would shatter the world of countless people, both now and in the future. She might not be able to stop it, but she couldn't in any good conscience excuse that. There was more at play here than her own broken heart.

At last, she looked away from him, staring blankly at the floor.

"It's for the best," he insisted. He tried to catch her eye, but she refused to look up. He sighed and straightened up, leaning against one of the pillars instead. He needn't linger any longer; Lucy Rochester couldn't run away if she tried. "You'll see..."

---

Lucy faded in and out of awareness. She wasn't sure how much time had passed. There were no windows in the Chamber, no way to tell what was happening in the castle above her. She wondered if Anthony had woken up yet. If he and the others had been told about herself and Ginny.

Ginny. Every time Lucy looked down at her, she felt a fresh stab of pain. She wondered what the younger girl was feeling, or if she was feeling anything. Her first year at Hogwarts was ending in catastrophe. She was wasting away, and there was nothing Lucy could do about it.

Lucy could try and run, but how far would she get? The Chamber stretched far and she had no idea how to get out. And even if she could run, Ginny would die anyway.

She then toyed with the idea of stealing the diary and getting rid of it somehow, but she dismissed that idea for a number of reasons. Firstly, she wouldn't get far at all. She'd already tried that in the first place, and Tom didn't have any trouble summoning it with a flick of his hand. He was leaning against a pillar nearby, glancing at them every so often. If she reached for the diary again, he'd notice. And as far as she could gather, he still had full control over her movements, if he deigned to do so.

Even if she could get the diary, she didn't think she'd be able to kill him. It was still killing someone. He was Lord Voldemort, but every time she looked at him she still saw Tom Riddle. He'd been at her side for nearly a year straight, and she cared for him as deeply as her other friends, if not perhaps a little bit more. He knew everything about her. He was horrible, twisted, and out of his mind, but he was still Tom.

She knew him nearly as well as he knew her, even if it was on a surface level. She could tell that he was thinking of his plans for the future right now. When he'd glance down at Ginny, she could tell he was getting impatient.

She tried not to look at him.

"Master... I ssmell blood..."

Lucy jumped at the cold voice. She stupidly looked all around her for the source before she realized that this was a basilisk, and if she looked into its eyes, she'd die. Still, she listened intently. Blood? Someone was here? She looked over to Tom, examining his reaction.

He scowled at the ceiling. "Stay hidden," he instructed the basilisk. Then he looked over at Lucy and glared, as if this interruption was her fault. "Come here."

At this point, she was leaning against the statue, her legs played out in front of her. Her entire body hurt. She wasn't sure what the effects of the Cruciatus did to someone, but she could swear that it was getting worse. She found herself spacing out and forgetting where she was. Her muscles would go from being perfectly still to twitching and exploding in fiery pain. Each time that happened, she'd bite the inside of her cheek to keep from screaming out. If Tom noticed, he didn't show it; in fact, now that she'd been awake for awhile, he wasn't paying much attention to her at all, other than the occasional glance.

The point being— there was no chance in hell she'd be able to stand up right now. She looked from Tom, to her legs, and then back to Tom. "Yeah," she said sarcastically. "I'll get right on that. Maybe I'll run laps around the bloody Quidditch pitch too while I'm at it."

He arched an eyebrow at her. "Is that so?" he said, and suddenly she was standing up and walking over to him. Her eyes widened as she did so. Once she reached him, she stomped on his foot.

"Don't do that!" she hissed.

"Well, you can't move," he said, slightly amused. He glanced at his foot with mild interest. "Huh. I could almost feel that. We must be almost finished here."

Her face fell instantly, and she looked away from him. Right. He was still a bastard.

There was a faint rumbling noise from the other side of the Chamber that drew both of their attention. Vaguely, she could make out the far wall; it was slowly breaking apart, much like the wall behind the Troll Tapestry had when she activated it. She squinted, trying to make out the person's shape. Her heart beat quicker. Was it a professor? Hopefully even Dumbledore?

She felt herself walk backward, behind Tom. She went to cuss him out over it, but she found that her mouth would not cooperate. He was fully possessing her. The sensation of her senses refusing to listen to her, once again, utterly terrified her.

She heard footsteps approach.

"Ginny!" a voice called out.

Her eyes widened. Harry? Was he alone? Was he insane? She thought that if he found the Chamber's entrance, he'd find a professor or something... Her stomach sunk. Tom was going to kill him.

"Ginny— don't be dead! Please don't be dead!" Harry's voice pleaded.

Tom sneered at him, holding Lucy's wand tightly in his hand. "She won't wake," he said in a low voice.

Harry turned to face him, surprised. He squinted for a few moments before he realized the familiar face in front of him. He'd only seen the photo about a million bloody times, thanks to Anthony parading it around. "Tom— Tom Riddle?"

Tom nodded, still scowling.

Harry hadn't registered the older boy's standoffish demeanor yet, and he turned back to Ginny. "What d'you mean, she won't wake?" he asked, looking back to Tom. "She's not—?"

"She's still alive. But only just."

"Are you a ghost?" he asked, glancing around uncertainly.

Tom was quiet for a few moments. He glanced at Lucy, who was practically screaming at him in her mind not to hurt her friend. She couldn't move, but the green lanterns above them flickered dangerously. He considered her for a few moments before turning back to Harry.

"You should leave, Harry Potter," he said at last. "This does not concern you."

"I can't leave," Harry said, offended at the very idea. "I've got to get Ginny out of here! You tried to find the monster the first time, right? Well, you got the wrong person— we've got to get out of here."

"I agree. You should leave," Tom said, yet again.

"Later," he promised. "Have you seen Luc— er, a short, blonde girl? Kind of weird, probably has a bad haircut..."

Hey! She thought indignantly. Despite herself, she hoped that Harry would heed Tom's order and turn around. She couldn't believe Lord Voldemort was encouraging his mortal enemy to leave in the first place, but she already knew it was too much to hope for Harry to leave his friend behind. He had no idea who he was messing with.

Tom's eyes lit up at Harry's question, and a smirk curled on his lips. "Have I seen Lucy?" he repeated, sounding amused. "Yes, quite often, actually."

Harry breathed out a sigh of relief. "Really? Where is she?"

The older boy ignored his question. "I am not a ghost, Potter. Rather, I am a memory. Shackled inside a diary for fifty years." He switched his wand to his other hand, then pointed at the familiar diary between Salazar's feet.

Harry followed his gaze. He frowned once he realized what he was looking at. He'd seen that diary loads of times. "That's my friend's diary. You— you were in there?" Tom nodded again, still smirking. Harry hesitated. He seemed to realize that something wasn't quite right here, and he looked around for his wand— but Tom had summoned it while the boy wasn't looking.

"Have you seen—?" Harry paused, seeing it in Tom's hand. "Thanks," he said, reaching out for it.

Tom chuckled; he didn't bother with answering.

There was a faint slithering noise in the distance. Harry jumped, then motioned once more for Tom to hand it over. "Listen, we've got to go," he urged. "If the basilisk comes—"

"It won't come until it is called," Tom said calmly. "I'll advise you once more: leave now, Potter."

"I told you, no. Look, give me back my wand. I might need it."

"No," Tom murmured. "I really don't think you will. I suppose, if you're too stubborn, there's nothing else I can do. You make it so difficult, Potter. I am trying not to upset my companion here." Harry opened his mouth to ask him what he meant, but Tom was faster. He pointed his wand at the younger boy and uttered, "Imperio."

Lucy watched, unsure of whether to be thankful or horrified as Harry's eyes clouded over into a blissful state. A smile crept onto his features. It was completely out of place for him to look so carefree in this ominous Chamber they were trapped in.

"See?" Tom said, grinning. "I told you I don't care about the Potter boy anymore."

Her voice began to work again, and she frowned, trying not to look at Harry. She didn't approve of the curse, but if it kept him from killing Harry, it was an okay sacrifice. "I'm not going to thank you for mind controlling my best friend, if that's what you're after," she told him.

"You should thank me for not killing him, but I suppose there's time for that later." He turned his attention back to Harry. "Leave the Chamber of Secrets," he ordered. "Inform everyone that Lucy Rochester and Ginny Weasley are dead."

"Sure," Harry said, standing up. He took a few steps away from Ginny, then hesitated. He blinked a few times, still smiling, but it faded every few seconds. "But... why?" he muttered, frowning. "I just heard her. She's not—" He jumped away from Tom like he'd been burnt. "What did you just do?!"

What did Tom just do? Lucy wanted to know what the hell Harry just did. She knew all about Unforgivable Curses, and they were hard to fight off by even the weakest of wizards. This was Lord Voldemort and Harry fought it off in a minute. She looked at her friend, filled with a mixture of awe and nerves. Tom's entire demeanor shifted into a defensive position. He knew that Harry Potter fought off his curse, and Lucy imagined that he was pissed about it.

"You really are more annoying than I thought, do you know that, Harry?" Tom said. He was smiling, but his eyes flashed with fury. "I suppose any brat can fight off an Imperius curse, if he's thick-skulled enough."

"I think your Curse just sucked, personally," Lucy commented.

Slowly, Tom turned to look at her. His smile faded entirely, and he took a step toward her. She nervously forced a smile. "Er— I mean, yeah, Harry Potter's dumb, am I right? Please don't kill me, Voldemort... hahah...hah..." she trailed off and looked away, muttering under her breath.

She wasn't muttering nonsense for the hell of it, although there was a sense of victory seeing Tom get mad over his curse not working. She purposefully called him Voldemort in an attempt to warn Harry. She glanced at her friend, and she could see the realization dawn on him. He muttered 'Voldemort' to himself in utter disbelief.

He leaned down slightly and looked her in the eye. "I'm not going to kill you, but do shut up."

After that, Lucy's voice stopped working again, and she found herself sitting criss-crossed on the floor beside him. She glared up at Tom, but perhaps it was for the best that she couldn't speak; his hand was clenched so tightly around her wand that his knuckles were white.

Harry looked from the diary, to Tom, and then to Lucy again. "Vol— you've been in this diary... but this is her diary..."

"Haven't you guessed it yet, Potter?" Tom said, mockingly disappointed. "I thought I spelled it out clearly. The diary— my diary— found its way into her hands. Mr. Malfoy had it last, I believe; he must have thought she'd be a fine choice for it, and I must say, I agree. Lucy here's been writing in it for nearly a year now. Of course, she never gave me anything useful at first. I was nothing but a glossary." He narrowed his eyes at her as he remembered how she refused to spill her feelings to him. "But... I've always been a charming person, Potter. It didn't take me long to figure out the right words to say. It didn't take much longer for me to gain her trust. Eventually, I was able to leave the diary— as her personal spectre, but it was more than I'd had for half a century. I was with her nearly every hour of the day. It made it so much easier to make her love me. Even now, I know she cannot kill me; she'll even forgive me, eventually."

Lucy wasn't so sure about that last part. Right now, she wanted nothing more than to take Harry and Ginny and run away from Tom Riddle forever, no matter how much she'd liked him. She felt her cheeks burn from embarrassment as Harry looked over at her. She didn't want anyone to know how Voldemort played her like a fiddle. She was supposed to be smarter than this, and she certainly didn't want to know how he did it.

"She trusted me, more than she's trusted any of you." Tom continued smugly. He threw a scathing look Harry's way, which the younger boy glared at. "With my newfound freedom, I couldn't ruin that. I had to be subtle, or else she'd throw me out. I took extra care to make our night time excursions quiet so that not even she would notice something was amiss. Perhaps it was fortunate that she was so focused on helping you, Potter; then I could easily track your investigations. I could nudge her on the wrong path. It was me who told her about Hagrid's expulsion, although she didn't quite believe it. Neither did Dumbledore, when I first turned Hagrid in."

"Dumbledore saw straight through you," Harry hissed; his hands had curled into fists ever since Lucy revealed he was Lord Voldemort.

"He certainly kept an annoyingly close watch on me after Hagrid was expelled," Tom agreed. "It wouldn't have been safe to open the Chamber again while I was still at school. But I couldn't let those years I spent searching for it go to waste. I decided to leave behind a diary, preserving my sixteen-year-old self in its pages, so that one day, with any luck, I would be able to lead another in my footsteps and finish Salazar Slytherin's noble work."

"You haven't finished it. You petrified Purebloods," Harry pointed out. "You couldn't even manage to kill a cat."

For a split second, Tom looked furious. Lucy felt a small smile growing on her face. Harry had struck a nerve.

"Enemies of the Heir does not strictly include Mudbloods," Tom said coolly. "It includes whomever I may decide is an obstacle. And for many months now, I've considered anyone in our way an obstacle." He gestured with his wand to Lucy.

Cautiously, Harry glanced between them again.

Tom smiled, and then Lucy felt herself standing next to him. She tried incredibly hard, willed every bone in her body to stop, but the problem was, it didn't feel like control. She had let so much of him in that her movements felt like her own; it was only her conscious mind that reminded her that she wasn't acting on her own accord. How could she possibly fight something that she couldn't really feel?

He stepped behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders. "Do you see this, Potter? I have full and utter control. More than any Imperius curse could possibly achieve. Even beyond tonight, when I have returned fully..."

Suddenly, she began talking at the same time as him; perfectly in sync.

"I will still be able to do this."

"And it just infuriates you, doesn't it?" Tom laughed at the growing look of fury on Harry's face. He revelled in it, knowing that he had something that Potter didn't. He was more powerful than him in every sense of the word. "You're no threat to me, Potter. I am the greatest sorcerer in the world, even now, in my current state. You were lucky as an infant, but I am in control. I am going to take over the world, and you are going to die here."

"You're a monster," Harry said in a tight voice. "You're Voldemort, and you're a monster. Let her go."

"If you say so." Tom laughed again; a cruel, high laugh that filled the entire Chamber. He released his control; her legs didn't catch up in time, and she headed toward the ground. He caught her arms just before she hit the ground, righting her again. However, his attention was focused on Harry. "That's the difference between you and I, Potter. I take care of what's mine. I didn't let her fall."

Harry scoffed, unconvinced. He had to be careful; Tom had their wands, and he knew that with every passing second, Ginny was slipping further away. "You're mad," he said flatly. "Lucy knows it, and I know it." She shot him a relieved look, which he nodded at. "Sorry to disappoint you and all that, but you're not the greatest sorcerer in the world."

"Then who is? Don't tell me— is it Dumbledore?" Tom chuckled. "A twelve-year-old managed to break into his office. She cast one of my spells under his nose. Forgive me if I'm not trembling at the mention of him."

"But you didn't," Harry countered. "Even when you were strong, you didn't dare try and take over at Hogwarts. You'd have never tried half of what we've done. Dumbledore saw through you when you were at school and he still frightens you now, wherever you're hiding these days, Voldemort."

Tom's humorous smile faded. He dropped Lucy to the floor.

She'd sort of been prepared for that, since he was being testy, and she held her arms out to catch herself before she face-planted. She threw him an ugly look. "'I didn't let her fall' my arse, Riddle. Look where that drama got you—" her voice stopped working. She flipped him off.

"Dumbledore's been driven out of this castle by the mere memory of me," Tom said calmly.

"He's not as gone as you might think!"

Tom opened his mouth to reply but closed it quickly. Faintly, a song played from somewhere in the Chamber; she felt like it was familiar yet otherworldly all at once, and although she was chilled to the bone, a warm feeling overtook her. The music grew louder, and louder, and just when she thought it would burst the air itself, there was a flare of red flame at the top of the pillar above Lord Voldemort.

Fawkes the Phoenix stretched out his wings, twirling in the air once as he let out a string of beautiful music. In his golden talons, he held... Lucy squinted, and despite herself, she almost wanted to laugh. Was that the Sorting Hat? Fawkes flew straight at Harry, dropping the hat before him. He handed swiftly on his shoulder.

"That's a phoenix," Tom observed.

"I thought it was an owl, personally," Lucy said.

He looked down at her and stared blankly. Although he didn't show a trace of emotion, she could feel how unappreciative he was of her commentary at the moment. She raised her eyebrows back at him. He was going to kill her friends? Then she was going to make it as unpleasant as possible for him.

"I've been wanting to do this for a long time," he said, and then he pointed his wand at her. Harry went to take a step forward, but Tom simply said, "Silencio."

'Bitch,' she mouthed at him.

He shot her a smug look, before looking back at Harry. He eyed the pile of rags at his feet and then promptly burst into laughter. Something about the sight of the Sorting Hat must have tickled him, because he laughed harder than ever before, clutching his sides. "This is is what Dumbledore sends his defender! A songbird and an old hat!" he laughed, straightening up. He leaned forward and asked, "Do you feel brave, Harry Potter? Do you feel safe now?"

Oddly enough, Harry did.

"Well— this has been fun and all, but I think I've had quite enough of the dramatics, Potter. I don't suppose if I ask nicely once more, you'll leave? That little show has put me in a far kinder mood."

"Sure, I'll leave," Harry said brightly, his courage mounting. He then narrowed his eyes at Voldemort. "Over my dead body, I will."

Tom was utterly unaffected. "Very well," he said, shrugging. "You know— once, I thought there was something similar about us, Potter." Harry stiffened. "There are strange likenesses between us, after all. We're both half-bloods, orphans, raised by Muggles... Probably the only two true Parselmouths to come to Hogwarts since the great Slytherin himself. We even look something alike... But now, it's plain to see that there's nothing special about you at all."

Lucy's stomach tied itself into an ugly knot. As Tom took a step forward, she grabbed his ankle lightly. He looked down at her, and fiercely, she shook her head at him. Don't do it, Tom. I'll hate you forever! Don't do it.

"Forever's a long time," he said, and he had the decency to look slightly apologetic about it. "Fortunately for me, I'll be there for all of it."

He shook her grip off easily. "Now— Ordinarily, I'd make this quick and use my wand. But if Lord Voldemort couldn't manage it, I'd rather not take my chances. Apologies in advance, Potter... This is going to be unpleasant.

He looked up at the statue of Salazar Slytherin. His red eyes, for a split second, turned to their usual steely color. "Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four..." Slytherin's stone mouth opened, wider and wider, to reveal a black tunnel. Tom backed away, grinning; he blocked Lucy's view as something slithered out of its mouth. Then, as casually as he could be, he said, "Kill him."

Lucy's eyes watered out of sheer horror. Instinctively, Tom turned to look down at her. "The basilisk's gaze is as painless as the Killing Curse," he offered, like that would make it any better. "This will be over soon enough—"

Just then, the basilisk let out agonized hisses, and she could see its head thrashing around from behind Tom's figure. He whirled around, striding forward. Then she could see it; Fawkes was sinking his talons into the basilisk's huge, yellow eyes. She almost passed out from relief. He was blinding it.

"No— leave the bird! Leave the bird!" Tom snapped. "The boy is behind you— you can still smell him! Kill him already!"

"Help me... Help me..." Harry uttered. "Someone— anyone."

Lucy glanced at Tom. His face was curled in fury; his basilisk had just been permanently injured by a boy and his bird. He was distracted. She spotted the Sorting Hat in front of Salazar's statue, and narrowing her eyes, she swiped her hand toward Harry. The Hat went flying through the air, and she winced as it hit her friend in the face.

Harry looked at her incredulously. She winced. 'Sorry,' she mouthed. She didn't know what good the hat would be right now, but surely Fawkes brought it for a reason?

Harry snapped out of it and rammed the hat onto his head. The basilisk's tail whipped at him, and he threw himself onto the floor, out of the way. At that exact same moment, Lucy focused her attention on the lanterns floating above them. She raised both of her hands, and they rattled in the air; she slammed her hands downward. The lanterns smashed down onto the Basilisk's body, burning its huge scales; around it, puddles of burning gas filled the Chamber.

"How— " Tom hissed to himself, and then froze. He turned to face Lucy. She shot him a what now? Sort of look. What was he going to do, cut off her hands? She went to flip him off. Ah. Her hands were now frozen in her lap.

Git.

She turned her attention back to Harry; in his hands, he held now a gleaming silver sword. She had no idea how he got that, but she mentally cheered him on; the basilisk reared around and lunged straight at him, and Harry held the sword upward. Just as the basilisk went to bite him whole, he rammed the blade of the sword into the roof of the basilisk's mouth. For a beautiful moment, she thought it was over. The basilisk hissed and fell over sideways, twitching, until it stilled completely.

And then Harry slid down the wall. Scarlet blood seeped through his white sleeve, and he yanked a basilisk fang from his arm.

"NO!" Lucy shouted, and her voice rang throughout the Chamber. Tom jumped slightly at the sound; with his concentration broken, she could move her hands again. She forced herself to her feet and ran toward her friend. Tom caught her as she passed by, wrenching her backward. She turned to face him, her face pale, tears pouring down. Her entire heart was burning. "Please, Tom," she pleaded, sobbing now. "Let me see him— please."

He searched her mind, looking for any tricks. But she had nothing. Nothing. No way to save Harry, no way out of this entire mess; in fact, the only thing he could sense was a violent sadness; the waves of her panic made the floor beneath them crack.

"Very well," he said at last, letting her go.

She ran toward Harry, landing on her knees in front of him. She wanted to touch him, but she was afraid to. She didn't have the right, did she? She killed him. This was all her fault.

Harry's face melted with relief once he saw her. He fumbled with his arm until he had her hand in his. "'M sorry, Lucy," he muttered, blinking black spots from his vision. "S'not your fault."

She didn't want to spend her last moments arguing with him, but deep down she knew that he was wrong. Terribly wrong. This was her fault. It was as true as the sun rising in the morning. Her chest heaving, she tried to keep in her cries, and instead she smiled down at him. "Do-on't be sorry, Harry. He's— he's a bastard, right?"

Harry snickered weakly. His head began to slump. "Yeah... right? You... you must have been so annoyed."

Fawkes was crying, too, next to them. He rested his feathered cheek on Harry's arm, weeping.

Tom was right in front of them, his hand holding his wand lightly. He showed no emotion watching the two of them, simply waiting for Harry Potter to die. He tried not to twitch as Harry and Lucy kept muttering insults about them. "Just die already," he muttered, as Lucy weakly told Harry,

"Y'know he's scared of heights?"

"No way..." Harry laughed again. But... it was stronger? Tom furrowed his brow. Basilisk venom was supposed to have killed him by now. He scanned the scene further, and then he realized it.

"Get away, bird— get away from him!" He shot a spell at Fawkes, and the bird took flight away from him again. But, Lucy realized, it was too late. Fawkes had done his work. Harry leapt to his feet, holding the basilisk fang in his hand; and then something fell at Harry's feet.

The diary.

In an instant, Lucy felt herself jerked backward, toward Tom. He had one hand around her neck, pointing a wand to her head. "One movement, Potter!" Tom snapped wildly, almost frantically. "One movement, and I'll kill her!"

Harry's stare hardened. "No," he said slowly, crouching to the ground. "No, you won't."

Tom shot a spell at Harry, but Fawkes flew in front and blocked it with his wing. "I'll kill her— Potter, I swear it!" Harry had the diary in his hand. Frantically, Tom turned Lucy around and looked her in the eye. "Tell him to stop. Lucy, I'll let Ginny go— I'll be your friend again! You wanted that, didn't you?" His face had turned several shades whiter, not a trace of red in his eyes. He was afraid. "Don't let him kill me, Lucy, please..."

"I don't want to die, I just want to be alive," he pleaded, lowering himself to her eye level. "I'll go back into the diary... Lucy, believe me..."

A huge lump grew in her throat, and she, too, turned to look at Harry fearfully. This time, nothing was controlling her. "Harry—" she began, and Tom clutched her hand tightly.

Harry watched her, a regretful look crossing his face. "I'm sorry," he said softly, whether it was to Tom, or herself, she didn't know. And then in one swift movement, he plunged the basilisk fang into the heart of the diary.

Tom Marvolo Riddle screamed.

"NO!"

He fell to his knees, grabbing and scratching at his chest, until he collapsed to the floor, writhing. A strangled cry left Lucy's throat, and she could feel it too, burning her, and she fell to the floor next to him. "Tom— Tom!" she sobbed, grabbing his wrists in her hands. His piercing eyes stared at the ceiling, not seeing her in the slightest as he screamed. She felt the sensation of his cold wrists fade away. "Tom, I'm sorry—" He disappeared entirely, and she collapsed forward, clutching her head in her hands as she trembled. "No— come back, come back! Please!!"

It was like someone had carved a huge, empty cavern in her chest. All at once, she felt like someone had scooped out half of her insides and left her empty. She wasn't even crying anymore, just shaking, her face stunned. Slowly, she looked up at the empty spot in front of her, where seconds ago her dearest friend stood.

After a few moments, her face went blank. Her entire mind shut down. "Ginny," she said hollowly, heaving herself to her feet. She ignored the worried look Harry sent her way. "Let's get Ginny."

"Lucy, I'm s—" Harry lay a hand on her arm.

She shook her head. "You... you did what you had to do," she said softly. She walked away from him, toward Ginny. The girl began to stir from the end of the Chamber. As they reached her, she sat up, rubbing her forehead.

Ginny registered Harry's blood-soaked appearance, then Lucy's red and puffy eyes. Her eyes widened, and she looked around the Chamber. "Harry, Lucy, someone else is in here— he knocked out three people—"

"Not quite," Harry said, wincing. He glanced at Lucy, but she said nothing. "Er— that was Voldemort. He..."

"He was going to kill you so he would come back to life," Lucy said in a monotone voice. "Harry saved you. He... he saved all of us."

She slipped her hand into Harry's then. He sighed in relief, a huge weight off his shoulders. He thought Lucy would hate him forever for this, but how could she? He was entirely right to have done what he did. It was her own fault she was hung up on a murderer. That she'd give just about anything in the world to have him back as her friend right now.

Ginny stared, stunned. "You-Know-Who?" she said vaguely. "But— he looked like a boy."

"I'll explain it later," Harry said hastily, as Lucy clutched the diary even tighter. Her shoulders shook violently. "For now... Let's get out of here."

Lucy followed behind the two, staring at the stone floor beneath her. Vaguely, she could hear Harry explain everything he knew to Ginny. Once he mentioned how He possessed her, Ginny looked back at Lucy with a sympathetic look. She hadn't the energy to look back at her. In fact, she could hardly believe she was truly alive right now; how could someone alive feel so empty?

"Ron!" Harry yelled, as the sounds of shifting rock reached their ears. "Ginny's okay! We've got her!"

Ron let out a cheer. They reached a pile of rocks, where the tunnel must have collapsed. He'd cleared a big enough gap in the middle of it. "Ginny!" He pulled his sister through, hugging her close to his chest. "You're alive!"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Ginny said, pulling a face at the hug. However, she didn't pull away, and a small smile crept onto her features. "Now quit being so mushy."

Lucy crawled through last. Ron pulled away from Ginny, but kept an arm wrapped around her shoulders. "Luce! I knew you'd survive, too!" He beamed at his friend, but it slowly faded when she didn't smile back. "What— what happened in there? What have you got in your hands? Harry, why do you have a sword?"

"We'll explain it later," Harry said.

"But—"

"Later," he said firmly, grabbing Lucy's spare hand again. She squeezed it weakly. He glanced around the small room they were in and asked, "Where's Lockhart?"

"Back there," Ron said, still looking confused. "He's in a bad way. Come and see."

They walked through the long tunnel. Ordinarily, she might have wondered how He got them all the way through here, but right now, she couldn't stand to think about it. It was by the skin of her teeth that she managed to keep from breaking down completely, and she didn't want to have to explain to everyone why she was crying over Voldemort. Lit by Fawkes, they reached the mouth of the pipe, where Professor Lockhart sat, humming to himself.

"His memory's gone," Ron explained. "The Memory Charm backfired. Hit him instead of us. Hasn't got a clue who he is, or where he is, or who we are. I told him to come and wait here. He's a danger to himself."

Lockhart smiled pleasantly at them all. "Hello!" he greeted. "Odd sort of place, this, isn't it? Do you live here?"

"No," Ron said, at the same time Ginny said, "Yes." He glanced exasperatedly at his sister. All things considered, she was doing alright for nearly having been killed by Voldemort. Then again, nobody explained the full extent to her yet; she didn't know that Pucey and Flint were dead.

Fawkes fluttered in front of them all, gesturing with his wing to his tail. It took Harry a few moments, but then he realized what the bird meant. "We've got to hold onto each other," he said, grabbing Fawkes's tail. Lucy stowed the diary away in Harry's robes for now, and she grabbed Ginny's hand. The younger girl squeezed it tightly, giving her what she hoped was a reassuring look. Lucy smiled weakly back at her, but it felt forced even to herself.

"Ginny, grab Ron's hand," he continued. "Professor Lockhart—"

"He means you," Ron told Lockhart.

"—You hold onto Ron's other hand. Ready? Right, let's go."

There was a funny feeling, and then they were flying through the air. It took only a few moments for them to reach the entrance of the Chamber of Secrets. Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. The ghost was hovering near the sinks, and as they emerged from the entrance, she shot them a stunned look.

"You're alive," she said blankly, staring at Harry and Lucy.

"There's no need to sound so disappointed," Harry scowled, wiping blood off his glasses.

Myrtle blushed, looking away from them. "Oh, it's just... Well, if you'd died, you'd have been welcomed to share my toilet." She then shot Lucy an ashamed look. "I'm sorry— you said to keep our meetings a secret, but Harry asked so nicely..."

Ron looked at her, confused. Lucy smiled tightly. "Y'know what, Myrtle? I forgive you."

"Urgh!" Ron groaned once they'd left the bathroom. "Harry! I think Myrtle's grown fond of you. You've got competition, Ginny!"

Ginny stomped on his foot, and Ron took a playful swipe at her.

Fawkes led them through the dark, deserted corridors. It wasn't long until they found themselves at Professor McGonagall's office. Harry stood in front of the door, taking in a deep breath. He and Lucy shared a long glance, before he turned back to the door. He knocked once, then pushed the door open.

The adults stood there for a moment, staring blankly at the five people in front of them. Two of which were covered in blood and slime, one of which trembling violently. The moment passed, and then Mrs. Weasley flung herself toward Ginny, bringing her into a tight hug. Mr. Weasley followed and they hugged their daughter as though they were afraid she'd disappear again.

Lucy wanted to run. Her face burned with shame, and she focused her gaze on the floor, refusing to look at everyone. She could have taken Ginny from her poor parents. She felt a burning gaze on her face, and slowly, she looked up to meet Dumbledore's stare. He had been beaming, but once he registered her face, his smile faded. He gave her a concerned look. She looked away.

"You saved her! You saved her! How did you do it?" Mrs. Weasley cried, releasing Harry and Ron from her embrace.

"I think we'd all like to know that," McGonagall said wearily.

Harry hesitated, then walked over and lay the Sorting Hat, the sword, and the diary on the desk. He sank into a chair beside Lucy, then launched into his tale. He spoke for nearly twenty-five minutes straight, detailing how he, Lucy, Ron, and Hermione had been investigating all year long. As he spoke, Lucy realized he was heavily editing out certain parts. He mentioned nothing of the diary, or how they stole the records from Dumbledore's office, or His plans.

He finished at the part where he reached the entrance, and then he stopped to take a drink of water.

"Very well," McGonagall said as he paused. "So you found out where the entrance was— breaking about a hundred school rules along the way, I might add— but how on earth did you all get out of there alive, Potter?"

Harry glanced at Lucy uncertainly. She nodded at him, giving him permission to tell them. But as soon as she nodded, Dumbledore spoke up.

"What interests me the most," he began softly. "Is how Lord Voldemort managed to enchant Lucy, when my sources tell me he is currently hiding in the forests of Albania."

There was absolute silence for a good few seconds. Mrs. Weasley looked at Lucy with confusion. She felt her stomach drop, but she took in a deep breath and nodded at Harry. She looked Dumbledore in the eye.

"The diary," she said, embarrassed to note that her voice cracked slightly. She cleared her throat and wiped the emotions off her face. "I've been writing in it all year and— and he's been writing back."

Dumbledore picked the diary up, examining it with interest. "Brilliant," he said softly. "Of course, he was probably the most brilliant student Hogwarts has ever seen."

Yeah, she nodded, looking away from the diary. Yeah, he was.

"Very few people know that Lord Voldemort was once called Tom Riddle," Dumbledore said, addressing the startled Weasleys. "I taught him myself, fifty years ago, at Hogwarts. He disappeared after leaving the school... traveled far and wide, sank so deeply into the Dark Arts, consorted with the very worst of our kind, underwent so many dangerous, magical transformations, that when he resurfaced as Lord Voldemort, he was barely recognizable. Hardly anyone connected Lord Voldemort with the clever, handsome boy who was once Head Boy here."

"But, Ginny," Mrs Weasley said, utterly confused. "What's our Ginny got to do with— with— him?"

"Nothing," Lucy said honestly. "Nothing at all."

"I walked in on him," Ginny said quickly, glancing at her mother. "I heard screaming after Transfiguration— I opened the door to a classroom, and he was standing in front of Lucy. I.. I think he cursed two boys? One of them was screaming and ran out. Then... I think he stunned me..."

Dumbledore looked at his desk solemnly. "Two of those boys were not merely unconscious, Ms. Weasley," he said quietly. "They will never wake up again. Mr. Montague is in my office as we speak, and I'm afraid he's accused Ms. Rochester of very serious crimes."

Fear gripped Lucy's heart all at once, as everyone in the room turned to look at her with suspicion. It was only Ron and Harry who glared back at everyone else. She tried not to shrink under all their gazes, and instead, she straightened up. Her jaw clenched.

"It was them, Professor," she said, her voice deathly quiet. "Flint cursed the bludgers. Pucey gave the note to the dwarves. Montague broke into my dorm." Harry's jaw dropped. "And— earlier today, during Charms class, Pucey brought me to a classroom and—" her voice cut off, and she started shaking violently. It was then that everything was ruined. It was then that all this began. "Montague cast— he— Professor, it hurt so bad," she said, and she finally let out a small sob. "It wouldn't stob b-burning, and he said he'd hurt Harry if I told anyone..."

"Albus—" McGonagall began, horrified as they realized the implications of what Lucy was telling them.

Lucy continued, tears pouring down her cheeks now. "I went back to my dormitory and— Tom saw me. He read my mind, Professor, and he was so mad— I told him not to—" she stopped herself, putting her face in her hands as her shoulders shook. Tom wouldn't listen to her. He wouldn'tlisten. He wouldn't listen. "He ruined it all," she sobbed, shaking her head.

"Ms. Rochester should go to the hospital wing straight away," Dumbledore interrupted firmly, his blue eyes glistening with a new emotion. "There will be no punishment. I will deal with Montague shortly." he looked Lucy in the eyes, and said softly, "Older and wiser wizards than you have been hoodwinked by Lord Voldemort. I, too, know what it's like to see the best in the wrong person, Lucy. I'm sorry."

She couldn't manage a response. Gently, McGonagall stood and helped Lucy to stand, guiding the girl to the hospital wing. The entire way, she fought back sobs. The moment she arrived at the hospital wing, several voices rang out at once.

"Lucy!'

Anthony was the first to reach her, but McGonagall stepped in front of him. "Not right now, Mr. Rickett," she said firmly. "Ms. Rochester needs to see Madam Pomfrey immediately."

He looked at her with concern as Madam Pomfrey ushered her behind a curtain. As soon as the curtain closed, Lucy broke, sobbing into her arms with all she had left inside of her. She hardly registered Madam Pomfrey handing her a potion, hardly registered herself drinking it, and she certainly didn't realize the moment she slipped away into the blank space of unconsciousness.

---

She didn't dream. Whether that was Madam Pomfrey's intent or not, she didn't know. All she knew was that she woke up in a hospital bed, and the entire room was empty. On her bedside table, she had loads of flowers— Daisies from Anthony, tulips from Daisy, poppies from Cedric, and roses from Heidi and Maxine. And surprisingly, a bundle of licorice wands from Malfoy, Blaise, Daphne, and Nott.

"Ms. Rochester, you're awake," Madam Pomfrey said with surprise, leaving her office. "I told Albus it was too early, but he said that should you choose to attend the feast when you wake, you may—"

"I don't want to," Lucy said quickly. She felt sore, but that was far from the reason. In the Great Hall, there was nothing to separate her from the stares of all the people she'd petrified. She wanted to hide away for the rest of her life.

"Of course," the matron said gently. "I'll bring you a tray later. All the victims have fully awoken, Ms Rochester... a few of them would like to visit you tomorrow."

It was clear that Madam Pomfrey thought it was a good idea. And although Lucy wanted to refuse, she nodded in acquiesce. With that settled, Madam Pomfrey left her a tray and left once again.

The next day passed slowly. She was dreading the hours until people would begin showing up, but of course, they did. Anthony showed up first. This time, he walked calmly over to her and sank into the chair beside her bed. She stared at him, unsure of what to say.

He cracked a smile. "Hey," he said, waving a little.

"Hey," she said, waving back.

"Sooooo... heard you've had a bad few days..."

She snorted. Bad was an understatement. "Oh, yeah. Finding out Voldemort's been possessing you all year long was a laugh and a half, I'll tell you that much."

"I mean... at least he was handsome?" Anthony tried. Lucy glared at him, daring him to continue teasing her. He cleared his throat. "Not funny anymore? Got it, got it. But seriously, cub— you know it wasn't your fault, right?"

"It wasn't my fault that I wrote into a mysterious diary?" she repeated, giving him an 'are you serious right now' kind of look.

"Well, he was nice to you, wasn't he?" At her surprised look, he shrugged. "Harry told me everything. He's a good kid, y'know, real mature for his age... But he told me Riddle was awfully fond of you. What he did was wrong, Lucy. I understand that. But oftentimes, the worst poison is the best tasting. And between you and me, I'd have done the same thing to Montague." His gaze darkened completely, a sneer curling on his lips. "Montague's lucky he's been expelled, otherwise I'd have put him in the ground with the rest of his scummy friends."

"He's been expelled?" Lucy's heart beat quicker. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, and he would have been sent to Azkaban, if he wasn't a Pureblood." Anthony clearly didn't think that was a fitting enough punishment. "I suppose if there's one thing I can thank Voldemort for, it was that. But I'd still have kicked him in the bloody balls for what he did to you."

Lucy struggled to speak, with the images of Tom screaming at her for mercy flickering through her mind. "Can we... not talk about him, please?" she said tightly.

A guilty look crossed Anthony's face. "Of course, cub. Sorry."

"So... how's everyone else?"

Anthony filled her in about everything without another mention toward Tom, and for that, she was thankful. He told her that just about everyone in Hogwarts knew what happened. Only, they knew the basics: that Lord Voldemort possessed her and opened the Chamber of Secrets and killed Pucey and Flint. Nobody but the select few knew about the diary. And fortunately for her, nobody was focused on the logistics of how Voldemort opened the Chamber: they were more amazed by Harry's heroics down there, how he'd slayed a basilisk with a sword. And as Anthony told her about that, she couldn't help but feel proud of her friend. He really was a hero. She didn't deserve to have him as a friend.

Madam Pomfrey had to force him out of the hospital wing, and a few days later, Lucy was cleared to leave the hospital wing. She was somewhat reluctant, since now she had to actually attend classes, but at least exams were canceled.

She arrived at the Great Hall for breakfast. She crossed over to the Gryffindor table, ignoring the curious looks Susan, Justin, and Megan were giving her. Everyone was giving her odd looks, but that could have been because of her weird haircut. Daisy offered to cut it, but Lucy declined. Hermione, Ron, and Harry visited her a few times already but they were otherwise too busy with their remaining schoolwork. Ginny often visited with Grayble, which Lucy very much appreciated. Ford and Snape would visit on their own account.

Ginny motioned for Lucy to sit next to her, smiling at the Hufflepuff. "You're out!" she cheered, hugging her lightly. She always made a point to show Lucy that she wasn't mad at her. Lucy was glad, but she didn't think she deserved to get off so freely.

"I'm out," she agreed, nodding along.

"Thank Merlin, History of Magic's a nightmare without you. I'm stuck with Harry," Ron said, shoving Harry's shoulder.

Harry scowled and elbowed him back. "Shut up, Ron.

"Yeah, he killed a basilisk, Ron, you should watch out," Fred agreed, grinning.

"Do you often murder mystical creatures, Harry?" George added. "Or is that only on the weekends?"

"I hate all of you," Harry said flatly.

She tried to force a few chuckles, but otherwise she stayed quiet throughout breakfast. Hermione nudged her with her elbow once breakfast was over, and then they all headed to their next class.

Once they left the Great Hall, someone tapped Lucy on the shoulder. She turned around to see Megan looking at her, slightly nervous. "Er— Lucy, can I talk to you?" she asked.

Ginny glared at her, but Lucy nodded. "I'll catch up with you guys," she said to her friends.

"Are you sure?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah, go on."

"I'm staying," Harry said, so firmly that nobody argued with him. He stood beside Lucy as Susan, Megan, and Justin all stood in front of her, the other three Hufflepuffs behind them.

It was quiet for a few moments. And then, Megan spoke up. "I heard what happened," she said. Lucy waited for her to continue. "And..."

"We're sorry," Susan spoke up. She was looking at Lucy sadly. "That must have been horrible, and we were wondering..."

"If we could try being friends again?" Megan finished.

Lucy looked between the three of them blankly. Truthfully, she didn't have any ill feelings toward them. Maybe she'd have accepted their offer in a heartbeat, if they'd been awake before everything went down. She wanted to say yes, but she shouldn't. It was for their own good.

"I think," she said quietly, "That you should stay away from me. For your own good. And— I'm sorry."

She turned abruptly and left them standing, staring after her. Harry caught up with her, his brow furrowed. She said nothing, continuing to walk with him. After a few minutes, he pulled her to the side.

"Luce— there's something I think you should have," he said. She shot him a quizzical look as he reached into his robes and pulled something battered out. Her heart stuttered. He had the ruined diary in his hands. "Dumbledore gave it back to me. And— well, while I know he was bad, he was still your friend. I think he liked you in a... really annoying and creepy way." She snorted. He wasn't wrong there.

"Thank you, Harry," she said honestly, taking it into her hands. She bit her lip; it didn't feel warm anymore, and she couldn't bear to open it. She slipped it into her familiar satchel. The weight made it feel like everything was normal, but she knew it wasn't.

All of a sudden, she captured him into a tight hug, burying her face in her neck. "Really, Harry... Thank you."

He said nothing, hugging her back.

They were late to History of Magic.

---

She was almost glad to arrive at King's Cross.

The train ride had, in all rights, been a pleasant one. Ginny, Fred, George, and even Percy joined them. She watched as they all played Exploding Snap, but she otherwise kept reading her own book the entire way. Ford slung himself around her shoulders, snoozing lightly the entire way while Grayble slept on Ginny's lap. She only stopped reading once when Harry roped her into a game of Paper Quidditch, and Percy gently asked her questions about her book every so often. She was fairly certain he'd read it already, since it was a second-year copy of her History of Magic textbook, but she answered him anyway.

"You'll write to us, won't you?" Ginny said, once the train had pulled to a stop.

Lucy wasn't sure if Mrs. Weasley would appreciate that, but she nodded anyway. "Try and stop me," she joked.

"You could visit me, too," Harry suggested. Then he grinned, a slightly mischievous look in his eye. "Or I could visit you."

"You wouldn't last a day in London," Hermione scoffed.

Offended, Harry looked at her. "Yes, I could. I killed a basilisk, Hermione."

"There's no need to brag about it."

"I think that once you've killed a basilisk, you kind of have the explicit right to brag about it, my dear Granger," Fred said wisely.

"Maybe you'd know, if you ever killed one," George sniffed.

Lucy smiled, and she hugged each and every one of them. She even found Anthony and the rest to say goodbye to them, too.

The rest of her friends trickled out of Kings Cross. She waited outside the Platform for nearly an hour, when she realized that there was no attendant coming. She shrugged it off and picked Grayble up in her arms.

"Guess we're walking, Ford," she informed him.

"Should I hide, boss?" Ford hissed in her ear.

She looked at the people passing by, all of whom shot her disturbed looks as they saw her hissing at a snake on her shoulders. She decided it was too much effort to hide him.

"Nah, you're fine."

Her owl, Snape, flew above her as she began the walk back to Wool's Orphanage. After a few minutes of walking, she felt a drop of rain hit her on the top of the head. She sighed and looked up as rain began to trickle down, easing into a downpour. She opened her satchel and dropped Grayble inside, and Ford hid in her backpack.

"Wonderful," she muttered to herself.

She walked through the doors to Wool's Orphanage, soaking wet. The other muggle children passed by, shooting her odd looks. None of them had any idea what kind of year they'd just had. They lived normal, peaceful lives, if not a bit dreary. If she uttered a word about Tom Riddle, they'd send her to the asylum immediately.

"What's with your hair?" Nathan asked, looking up from his game of cards.

"An evil wizard cut it before he tried to kidnap me and fake my death," she informed him as she headed toward the staircase.

Emma giggled. "Fine, don't tell us."

Lucy closed the door behind her. Then she turned to look at her untouched room. A thick layer of dust settled over everything, including her sheets. She opened her wardrobe door to find all the cacti dead. She could hardly believe that after all that had happened, she found herself at Wool's Orphanage once again, like nothing had happened at all.

Feeling empty, she sat down at her desk chair. The same one Tom had sat in so many times before. Tears burned at the corner of her eye as she extracted the diary from her satchel. Sucking in a deep breath, she flipped it open.

The pages were blank, stained with ink. She flipped to a blank one and then pulled out an inkwell and a quill. Her hand shook, and she had to muster up the courage to put the tip of the quill to the paper. Messily, she wrote,

Tom?

The ink stayed.

Below it, she wrote, Please write back. No answer. Please write back please write back please write back— tears fell down her cheek, and with an angry noise, she threw the diary at the wall. She picked up the inkwell and threw it to the floor, letting it shatter into a thousand pieces. She buried her face in her hands, and for the first time, she let herself cry completely, her sobs unmuffled.

Summer was about to begin.

---

Author's Note:

I don't usually make author's notes, but I thought I should clarify a few points! I'm fairly new to the format on but a clear difference I see from Wattpad is that author's notes are more normal hear and it's not uncommon to expand on certain plot points to avoid confusion.

[1] From this point on, the story begins to branch out from the usual canon line, more than Tom's presence already has.

To add some context, I began Huffily Puffily as an 'origins' story to a little short humor story I wrote on Wattpad called 'Voldemort's Pen Pal', in which Lucy began writing letters to Lord Voldemort in her fifth year and befriended him. It was silly and random (I wrote it 5 years ago), and with Huffily Puffily I was aiming to expand upon it! But that also meant I would be following the plotline of Voldemort's Pen Pal rather closely. And so, this story follows Lucy and her 'descent into madness' and her friendship with the real Lord Voldemort.

[2] I will be writing an AU storyline after I complete this story where Tom succeeds in his plan and comes back to life! I'm not going to give any spoilers for this story but... don't lose hope, lol.

That's basically it, I'm publishing the next chapter immediately after this one because I don't want to leave you all hanging for too long. (On Wattpad I have up to chapter 60 written and then the platforms will be all caught up)