Hope you enjoy the chapter! Please R&R and come visit me at my tumblr - erikablair


Harry's eyes fell onto the diary in the corner of his room, and he stumbled over to pick it up. It felt warm in his hands, a warmth that seeped into his bones and finally stopped his shivering. He remembered the words written on the page, he remembered the diary writing back, but in light of everything, it no longer bothered him as much. A diary that was alive seemed much less terrifying than his Uncle. He slowly stroked the spine, feeling a tingling in his fingers as he did so. He opened the diary, unsurprised to see it was once again blank.

Breathing out, Harry reached for a nearby pen; he knew his actions were illogical, impossible – it'd be more likely he was having a psychotic break than for any of this to be real, but as Harry touched pen to paper, he wrote a simple greeting.

'Hello Harry, I'm Tom Riddle, and I see you've found my diary.' The diary wrote back.

"I've definitely lost my mind," Harry murmured to himself.

'How are you alive? How are you talking to me?' Harry wrote.

'I'm not alive in the traditional sense, I don't have a heartbeat, but I am sentient. As for how I'm talking to you, I was designed to be able to.'

Harry furrowed his eyebrows in frustration; he needed more information.

'What are you? How were you designed? How were you created?' Harry wrote back quickly.

'What I am is rather complex, but the simple answer is I am a memory stored in a diary. I was designed to be a helper of sorts to my physical self. As for how I was created – magic.'

Magic, a word forbidden from being uttered within these walls, a concept fantastical and impossible; could it be real?

'Prove that you're magic and not just my imagination,' Harry challenged.

A dark figure shimmered into view, causing Harry to scramble back. An unfamiliar boy stood in front of him, wearing strange clothes – it looked like some sort of robe or cloak. He looked in his mid-to-late teens, with sharp cheekbones, an aquiline nose, dark brown wavy hair, and coal-black eyes set into a pale face.

He was spinning a long pale stick between his fingers, and Harry found his eyes tracking the movement warily.

"Does this prove this isn't your imagination Harry?" asked the mysterious boy, his dulcet tones catching Harry's attention effortlessly.

Harry reached out a hand towards Tom before hesitating at the last moment, "How is this even possible?" questioned Harry.

"I told you, magic."

"But magic isn't real; this can't be real."

"Have you ever experienced anything that can't be explained? Things that happened around you when you were scared or angry?"

A whole slew of situations raced through Harry's head, most recently the confrontation with Vernon the other night in the kitchen.

Tom took Harry's silence as confirmation, "these were acts of magic Harry," Tom explained patiently, "You're a wizard."

Harry started chuckling, "a wizard? Is that what you call people like me?"

"What would you call yourself?"

Harry smiled bitterly but didn't answer. "Was magic how I found you?" Harry asked, changing the topic.

"Yes, Harry, I wanted you to find me."

"Why?"

Tom paused for a few moments before answering, "I wanted to be in the possession of someone who had magic again."

"Again?" Harry inquired, focusing on the word, "were there others before me? What happened to them?"

"They didn't need me anymore," Tom answered simply.

Harry reluctantly accepted Tom's words; sure, there was more to it but unsure how to dig further.

"Harry," Tom said, interrupting Harry's train of thoughts, "I remember what you wrote to me the other night."

Harry stiffened upon hearing this.

"I can help you if you want, Harry. I can teach you how to use your magic, how to protect yourself," Tom offered.

Harry narrowed his eyes at Tom, "what do you want in return?"

Tom smirked sharply at Harry, an amused glint in his eyes, "Nothing you won't be willing to give, I'm sure." Harry continued to look at Tom suspiciously, prompting him to elaborate, "I need you to create a blood bond between my diary and your Aunt and Cousin."

"What will this do?" Harry asked.

"Your Aunt and Cousin both have innate magic; they can't use this magic, however. To be able to sustain myself, I need to feed," Tom reluctantly explained.

"Will anything happen to them?" Harry asked curiously.

"They'll gradually become weaker the more I feed; draining their magic can be taxing on their bodies."

"If I do this," Harry started, "what will you teach me? How can I be sure you won't just go back on your word when I do what you ask?"

Tom stepped closer to Harry, "You won't have any worries about that, Harry, I'm not in the habit of lying", Tom intoned, and despite his instincts, Harry found himself relaxing at the boy's words.

"Will you accept my offer?" Tom asked, standing up and holding his hand out to the boy in front of him.

Harry looked at the outstretched hand warily before staring up at the boy consideringly, feeling himself relax as his eyes swooped over Tom's handsome features. He felt as if he could trust this boy for some reason, the same feelings from when he first saw the name T.M. Riddle engraved on the diary's front cover bubbling up. Hesitantly Harry reached out and put his hand in Tom's, clasping it tightly; Tom gave him a smile that was too sharp to be charming, but before he could think more on this, he was pulled forwards until they stood together with barely a hands width between them.

"What do I need to do?" Harry shakily asked, unable to move away.

Tom took the hand that was not holding Harry's and placed it under Harry's chin, gently tilting it up until he captured those bejewelled eyes in his gaze. His breath caught; they were the same shade as the Killing Curse.

"All it takes is a drop of blood," explained Tom, his hand slowly stroking along Harry's jaw, making the boy's eyelids flutter. "It doesn't matter how you get it, but once you have the blood, let it drip onto the pages of my diary. Once it's absorbed, the connection is made, and I will start teaching you magic."

Harry gave a slight nod, and Tom smiled softly at the boy causing Harry to flush a deep red. Tom chuckled, finding it endearing. He brought his hand back up to Harry's face and gently tilted his head back up to his and leaned forward; he could hear Harry's breathing increase and internally smirked.

His lips ghosted over Harry's cheek and stopped upon reaching his ear, "we're in agreement then, Harry. I look forward to helping you," Tom breathed before fading away and the diary slamming shut.

Harry took a few moments before he could move again, his heart rate was beating at a rapid pace, and he felt an unfamiliar swooping in his stomach when he thought about the events that had just transpired. He sat on the bed heavily and sighed. Harry didn't believe it would be hard for him to get the blood, and learning how to defend himself from Vernon was currently his top priority. He didn't know when he'd have Petunia around to distract Vernon again, even if it was out of jealousy, and he didn't want to know what would happen then.

Feeling the events of the day catching up to him, Harry fell back on his bed, exhausted, falling asleep instantly and dreaming about the boy who gave him a method to fight.