In the last chapter: Harry kicks his second year at Hogwarts off with endless rumors and chatter about the trial, being dubbed by the public as 'Ice Prince.' Harry takes a neutral and non-confrontational approach to the teasing. Lockhart is his usual despicable self. Harry and Anthony join the Ravenclaw quidditch team as seeker and chaser. Harry's teased by his friends about his 'infatuation' with Ginny, though Anthony takes Harry's side. Harry catches Ginny writing on the wall in blood and steals the diary from her, which he later realizes is Tom Riddle's first Horcrux.


After realizing what the diary was, Harry kept it locked away in his room, taking it out each night to study it and try to figure it out. There was obviously something more to the diary than there seemed, it had some very strange effects on the young Weasley girl and Harry had always seen he writing in it, yet the diary was completely blank as far as Harry could tell.

The obvious solution to Harry's unanswered questions was to write in the diary himself, but for a solid week, Harry was reluctant to do much else than cast detection charms on it. Finally, after days of coming up with inconclusive results with the detection spells and drawing a blank on what the diary possibly did, Harry let his curiosity win out and sat down at his desk in his dorm room while his dorm-mates were out in the common room or at the library studying (Anthony).

Dipping his quill in an ink pot, Harry's hand was poised over a random blank page, prepared to write. However, as the inked nib of the quill hovered over the parchment, he suddenly wasn't sure what to write. As the seconds ticked on while Harry tried to drag up something to possibly write, Harry didn't notice the ink gathering and swelling at the tip of his nib until a fat drop of black ink struck the page with a soft sound.

Harry sighed at the sight of the wet blot on the page and set the quill down next to the diary. Once the ink had stopped spreading through the fibers of the parchment, something rather curious happened. Right before Harry's eyes, the ink blot shrunk and faded into the page until there wasn't any trace. Interest peaked, Harry sat further forward, picked up the quill again and didn't hesitate to write this time.

My name is Harry Potter.

Again, almost as soon as Harry had finished writing the letters were disappearing one by one until the page was blank and seemingly untouched. Moments dragged like dead weight through his mind as Harry waited. Quicker than he'd expected, new letters seemed to ink themselves on the page, different from what he'd written.

'Harry Potter? Ah, I've heard quite a lot about you from a friend of mine. Tell me, how did you get ahold of this diary?'

For while, Harry was so shocked he didn't know what to do. Only when the words started to disappear did Harry jolt into action, writing quickly.

First, who am I speaking to? What is your name?

Harry had a pretty good idea who he was talking to, but considering who it was, it was best to be absolutely sure.

'Of course, how rude of me. My name is Tom Riddle.


Tom Marvolo Riddle. The sentient diary had identified itself as Tom Riddle. Not Voldemort, but 'Tom Riddle.' The differentiation told Harry two things. First, that for whatever reason, the Horcrux hosted within the diary was powerful enough for not only sentience, but communication and some sort of possession of the young Weasley girl. Second, that the Horcrux was cut off from Voldemort's experiences and knowledge after being separated from his body.

Once Harry had gotten over his astonishment, his curiosity reared back up and he began asking the diary questions and conversing with it. It was absolutely fascinating! The level of intelligence, language, and ability to hold conversations was impeccable. It was truly like a snapshot of Tom Riddle's mind and character had been taken the moment he'd created his first Horcrux as a young Hogwarts student and his complete consciousness was copied into diary. And this Tom was not at all what Harry had expected.

Harry actually knew quite a lot about Voldemort's early life, having heard such tales from his companion. It wasn't extensive, but Harry knew that Tom had actually been the model student before he graduated and his darker exploits took up all of his time. He had been at the top of his class, in the personal favor of every staff member (save Dumbledore, who had held his reservations for the young Slytherin since the very beginning) a pillar in the social structure of Hogwarts for seven full years.

Harry had expected reservation and master manipulator (which he still lived up to) but relentless curiosity and amicable conversation was certainly not what Harry had had in mind when he thought about the young Tom Riddle. Over the course of a week, Harry found himself returning to the diary quite frequently when he had the time.

He kept the diary locked away in his room of course, not wanting the distressed Weasley girl's searching gaze to recognize it in his possession out in public. In the evening, though, when everyone in the house of blue and bronze was studiously working through assignments and required/elective texts, Harry would casually reach for the diary and start up another conversation with the bodiless pen-pal. Though he was careful not to do so in the presence of Anthony.

As Harry grew closer to his small circle of friends, it felt stranger the more he lied to them. Harry knew the necessity of his lies, and they had been so natural in the beginning, but the more he was exposed to the exclusively trusting nature of his friends the heavier each lie felt on his tongue. However, no matter how much he craved to lean into that loyalty and spill every single one of his secrets—knowing that it would make them closer, their bond stronger—Harry knew that it was too early. His nebulous plans were only just beginning to solidify into full-fledged thoughts and to act now would only make everything fall apart. They wouldn't understand, they don't know what I know, Harry thought determinedly, though he knew that a small part of him was scared that their friendship would not withstand the truth.

One evening, three weeks after discovering the unique abilities of the diary, Harry slipped up and was caught writing in it by Anthony when he came back to the room looking for Harry to help him with something on their course work. He had looked at the diary with curiosity, but only a little, and said that he didn't know Harry had a journal. Harry had tried to subtly move the diary out of sight and moved onto a subject sure to divert attention. He announced that he'd succeeded in the animagus transformation (even though he'd done that months ago) and like magic, Anthony completely forgot about the diary. At least, Harry hoped that that was the case.

When Draco heard the next morning, he'd been unbelievably smug about Harry's reptilian form, giving him a good nudge and saying how he knew Harry was secretly a Slytherin at heart, with prideful grey eyes beaming into his. When Harry transformed for them in private, they had marveled at the iridescent black scales, shining a rainbow of different colors in any light.

Anthony had been more interested in certain properties of his form and asked Harry if he'd be allowed a sample of venom at some point to use or study—which Harry had been indifferent about. Draco, on the other hand, lived up to his darker heritage and constantly asked about the lethality of Harry's form—how potent was his venom, how fast was he, how strong were his coils, and how much bigger he would get. Harry thought his friend's interest was rather amusing.

Sometimes Harry felt that lying to cover up the Horcrux was a waste. Specifically, he felt that way every time he caught Tom trying to slip past his defenses and burrow his way in like he'd done to Ginny. Whether it be the cool brush of magic tingling up his arm and snaking around his shoulders, or smooth artfully cloaked words of charm and deceit, Harry always picked up on it and admonished Tom for his behavior.

It was like scolding a child. A child more manipulative and cunning than most politicians. If anything, calling him out on his ploys only seemed to encourage Tom to try harder. It soon became an expected and harmless battle of wills. After the first few weeks, Harry doubted that Tom was still actually trying to possess and control him, rather, now he seemed to test Harry to see if he can catch Tom every single time. So far, he has.

Occasionally, after failing yet again to get Harry to do anything for him, Tom would ask about Ginny, knowing that she had fallen easily for his tricks. According to Tom, Ginny had been quite taken with the 'famous Harry Potter' before coming to Hogwarts and still fancied him. The young girl had written page after page about Harry to Tom and so Tom had been quite shocked to suddenly be in contact with the subject of such adoration (even if Tom still didn't know why Harry was so famous).

The topic always made Harry feel uncomfortable, which of course meant that Tom brought it up rather often—reciting the love-sick and childish descriptions Ginny had given Tom. Tom wasn't teasing Ginny necessarily, Harry knew that a lot of what he said was exaggeration and made up at Harry's expense since Tom actually spoke very little about what Ginny actually wrote to Tom.

Harry didn't delude himself into thinking that Tom actually cared about the girl as a friend. The disembodied teen had used her to carry out his own agenda and would care little for what happened to her when he was done, but somehow, Harry felt that Tom respected her enough to not be directly cruel to the girl.

Harry knew that the chances of Diary-Tom's memories carrying over into the fusion of the main soul were slim to none (seeing as how that was not how memories were stored and retained, the memories of the main soul where always dominant) so he felt comfortable being overly curious with Tom and asking him about his life.

At first, he didn't answer and deflected a lot of the questions smoothly, but after a month, the snippets of information started to be woven into their long conversations. Over time, more and more of the smaller details about Voldemort's early life were fitted into place and he came to understand Voldemort a little better than before.

Tom always tried to mine information out of Harry as well, but Harry was far less willing to let anything go. Even with the minuscule chances of the information ever reaching the current dark lord, Harry couldn't bring himself to chance it and only told Tom about vague details; things such as being seeker of the Ravenclaw quidditch team and being friends with the heir of the Malfoy line and the youngest Goldstein. Harry talked about school and people and professors, but was very tight lipped about his own personal details.

When winter break finally came and Harry brought the diary home with him to Grimmauld place, he rarely took it out of his trunk as he enjoyed the holiday with his Godfather and Remus. Although his conversations with Tom were entertaining, he was still only a Horcrux—a fraction of the man Harry is trying to revive, a fraction that is stuck with the memories of a sixteen-year-old wizard and the snippets of information he gleaned from Ginny to go off of.

On top of that, Harry definitely didn't trust the ulterior motives of the diary. Whatever Tom had planned, it involved possessing a first year and making them write ominous messages in animal blood on corridor walls. Whatever it is, it can't be good, especially after hearing from his companion about the Chamber of Secrets and the Basilisk within. From the short time Harry had been talking to him, he had come to the assumption that 'enemies of the heir' from the message on the wall had something to do with muggleborns and opening the chamber might have something to do with the beast inside it.

Either way, Harry was going to try to keep his exposure to the diary to a minimum. Even if he did find the diary strangely fascinating.

When Harry returned from break, feeling reinvigorated from spending some quality time with Sirius and Remus, things resumed normally. Draco went on and on about the gifts he received, Anthony talked almost as much about his trip over holiday to see his beloved and eccentric great uncle, and Hermione showed off the hefty stack of books she got for Christmas. Michael Corner sneered at them and bragged about his expensive gifts and a long trip to some tropical isle, though Draco was always happy to one-up him in front of the Ravenclaw table.

The only thing that seemed to change since the previous term was little Ginny Weasley. Harry hadn't expected much when he glanced over at her during breakfast, but he was shocked to find that the first year was looking right at him with confused and cautious eyes and a definite determined light shining in their depths. He kept his expression neutral as he casually looked away, but inside, something had dropped like a stone in his gut.

She knew, Harry wasn't sure how she knew, but he was certain that she did. Over the course of the next month Harry teetered precariously on the edge of masked neutrality and paranoia. He began keeping the diary on his person at all times, periodically brushing his fingers over the outline of it inside his bag to make sure it was there. As the first month of the new year withered and drained into the second, Harry had finally begun to relax when one day, out of nowhere, the diary went missing.

Harry had gone back to the dorms, thinking nothing of the secret journal in his bag until he was in the privacy of his own bed-hangings and could pull the book out to once again write in it. For the first few moments of digging through his bag, Harry felt nothing but calm. Then the hedging of frustration. Then panic as it became clear that the diary was no longer in the bag.

The next morning, Ginny could once again be seen with the cursory diary tucked close to her chest. Harry wasn't sure how she had gotten the diary off of him without his notice, but he suspected that Tom was involved. The Horcrux must have realized that time was wearing thin as the end of the year approached, because the downward spiral Ginny went through seemed to be far more rapid this time around.

It was like watching from afar as a person's mind and body was claimed by a drug.

Almost immediately, Ginny had closed in on herself, withdrawn from everything and everyone outside of her. Painted stains of grey and purple smudges soon appeared under her eyes and a sickly pallor overtook her already fair skin. Her glazed and vacant eyes were constantly fixed on the ground as she shuffled through the halls.

After a week, people started to notice and gave the young Weasley a wide berth. A few days after that, the fiery prankster twins finally realized that something wasn't right and began sitting on either side of her during meals, and tried to coax her into conversation whenever they could. Not that she even realized they were there.

It wasn't until the first petrified student turned up that Harry realized what Tom might be trying to do. Harry knew that the gaze of a basilisk was absolutely lethal, but indirect eye contact may have some other effect. Harry didn't know the purpose it served, but the more students that turned up stiff as a board yet still alive the clearer it became that Tom was behind it and the attacks were leading up to something.

He tried stealing the diary back from Ginny once, slipping into the girl's dorms in Gryffindor tower in his animagus form, but seeing how Ginny slept curled protectively around the diary, feeling the Horcruxes magic burrowing into her . . . Harry knew that he wouldn't be able to get it away from her without waking her up and probably causing a frantic and desperate fit.

Besides, with the nature of the magic connect the diary to Ginny this time around, the chances of it being dangerous and possibly harmful to her to try to force the diary from her were quite high.

Harry had gotten used to being in control, of having all of the answers and being the unseen force behind all of the players on the board. Though, at this point, Harry felt completely helpless as he watched a girl withering away for reasons he didn't know. It was times like these that made Harry feel the most regretful about taking his covert stance, about being the only person alive to know what was really going on and the duties he had to carry out.

Because, being alone meant that everyone else was safe and he could move around undetected, but it also meant that he couldn't ask for help or advice.

The only one in which he could was Death, and Death was . . . well.

So, Harry didn't make a move. He was at a stalemate with his waring thoughts and growing frustrations. However, instead of sitting around waiting for something to happen, Harry kept a close eye on Ginny while also delving in to his research, trying to figure out where the Chamber of Secrets was, and by association, the basilisk.

Harry's second year began to come to a close as winter dissolved into spring. As the number of petrified students steadily increased over the second term, once again, the trio of Gryffindors took charge and flung around wild accusations while also somehow finding themselves in ridiculous and dangerous situations that made them all frequent recipients of punishment.

Despite the supposed ring leader of the little group being Ginny's older brother, Ronald Weasley, the boy hadn't paid a lick of attention to his little sister, not even after the twins began sitting with her. The key to all of this mess was clutched in the hands on his young sister, always sat only a few seats down from him at every meal. The young, fiery-haired Gryffindor seemed almost pityingly dense to Harry at times.

Don't get Harry wrong, they were determined! But without key facets of information, the three thankfully missed the target by a long-shot. Unfortunately, even if Harry had almost the entire picture figured out, that didn't negate the fact that Harry couldn't do anything about it. All he could do was wait for something to happen and hopefully act on it fast enough before any irreparable damage was done.

And wait he did. All the way up until the last week of class. Harry's anxiousness hadn't dissipated, but it had dulled some over time. The sharp edged blade of anticipation had inched away from his throat and he could breathe again.

He was walking alone down the same corridor that young Ginny had stained with blood when he saw a dreadful glint of red on the wall like painted jewels in the torch light. For a moment, Harry thought he might be mistaken, seeing things that weren't there because he was thinking about them, but when the rapidly drying rivets of crimson didn't wink out when he blinked, he surged into action.

Harry rushed forwards until he stood before the wall, taking in the dripping letters as the smell of blood filled the hallway with its metallic and rusted perfume.

HER SKELETON WILL LIE IN THE CHAMBER FOREVER