Tom Marvolo Riddle sighed and put down his quill. Then he looked up at what he had written.

Goal: Immortal Ruler of Britain, then world.

To be taken seriously when running for minister, must have PROOf of having done something great (i.e., defeated some monster).

Only monster easily controlled: Basilisk within Chamber.

PLAN: Kill Dumbledore because he knows I've opened the Chamber last time and I don't need him talking to the press.

Then release Salazar's Beast on random folks.

Killing Mudbloods:

PROS:
When I save them, I become a hero to majority of people.

When I save them, I can make a speech about equality, and jumpstart political career while in Hogwarts.

CONS:

When I save them, it's harder to win pureblood's support.

When I save them, I'll have to deal with a lot of Pure/mud-blood questions - about blood superiority; and those are easily answered badly. If I answer ANY of them pro-Pureblood, then the press will think I'm supporting Slytherin's Heir and the monster killing all the Mudbloods.

IS IT WORTH GOING AFTER MUDBLOODS?

Note: Last time, I started off with killing Mudbloods - and panic helps control people better. Also, if Salazar's Heir doesn't pick of Mudbloods, then people will question.

SO: KILL DUMBLEDORE, ATTACK Mudbloods, SAVE Mudbloods. Figure out how to control Potter... or make him a victim? Makes it more tragic.

Then: Become Minister. Make Britain ready to fight! Increase budgeting for . .Enforce. Make training necessary for most jobs in Ministry - as a matter of fact; make the Minister more smoothly run.

If asked about changes, say following:
Ministry is an old, rusty clock, and I'm making it run like a smooth, oiled machine.

Then: Take France, and rest of world. Note: Mix all magic then muggle ministries together, so they all depend on each other - none can revolt because it affects them negatively. If Africa revolts, then Africa looses all the products from everywhere else; so it'll starve within 24 hours. Thus, no revolutions.

Immortal, benevolent ruler.

Note: Make special ward that kills everyone with an IQ below 95, drawing on the life force of everyone with an IQ of 95 or below - that way, they die faster.

I do NOT need idiotic followers, and even those of high IQ can be indoctrinated into believing I'm god.

Also: make special department to deal with good Propaganda, so no one thinks of fighting me.

Tom in Lockhart's body stroked the snake around his shoulders. Nagini was really precious.

The children ought to be arriving in an hour or so, and his plans were mostly set - only the technical difficulties needed to be smoothed out. Whatever.

He was all set, with a plan and no one realized who he was so it was perfect. The icing on the cake? Dumbledore himself asked him to teach... and fifty years earlier, the man had turned him down.

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Melinda swallowed carefully, before knocking on the compartment door.

Hermione opened it, looked at the girl up and down and sneered. Melinda closed her eyes, swallowed, and opened them again.

"I had acted... inadequately last year. It was not my intention to insult. May I try to earn your hand in friendship?" The words were stiff and stilted. Then again, the two hardest things that humanity had ever done were a) thinking, and b) apologizing and admitting that they were wrong.

Hermione knew this. She also knew what it was like to be alone, and to hate with a passion. And she also knew that if Melinda hurt her friends, then she would kill the werewolf girl.

"You may enter."

Then she leaned over and repeated the last bit into Melinda's ear. And she knew how to kill.

"I... I know." The werewolf girl muttered.

Melinda entered the compartment, and a stilted conversation gradually grew more real.

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Luna opened the compartment door, and gasped.

"Harry!"

Blaise, thinking clearly, immediately unfroze the boy... though he kept his wand out and held a knife. In case Harry turned out to be polyjuiced or something. Harry gasped, rolled over, gagged, and stood up.

"That stupid girl! I hate her! Angelina Johnson is going to hell! You know what, I love you two, but I really need a single moment."

Luna grabbed his arm.

"I don't know what you're doing, but there are nargles in the mistletoe."

"Yuck! I'm not going to KISS her! I'm just gonna teach her a lesson! I'll be right back!"

Harry ran out of the compartment, throwing open the one with Angelina sitting in it. She gaped at him.

"How - what are you - how did you? -"

"If you'd all excuse me, I'd like to speak to Angelina. Alone. So shoo!"

The other members in the compartment immediately started arguing - "Who're you to tell us what to do?" "Are you a goblin or a baby? Get out!" "What's a kid like you have to do with Angelina?"

And, lastly, Angelina.

"It's fine, guys, this'll only take a minute. Right, Harry?"

"Right. Accio Angelina's wand. Stupefy."

Harry pulled out a parchment, and began to write.

I, Dubhshlain, and I, _, the signer of this contract, agree to the following: The signer will not judge anyone based on their house, political power, economic status, age, or beauty. The signer will do their best in all of their classes, and will do their best to tutor at least four different children, one from each house. The signer will do their best to make those they tutor also follow the stipulations laid down in the contract. The signer will do their best to get an EE or an O in each class. The signer will do their best not to harm Harry Potter in any way, shape or form.

The Signer of this Contract, _, will agree to owe Dubhshlain three favors, and they must fulfill these favors upon pain of death. Favor #1: The context of this contract, nor the identity of Dubhshlain, are to be revealed under any circumstances.

Then, Angelina awoke with a quill in her hand, a contract in front of her, and a wand placed at her neck, with her head held by her hair. She gulped - the hand clenching her hair was not the hand of a child.

And she owed him favors. Three favors, which meant that she owed him an infinite amount - "Do me a favor, Angelica. Owe me three million more favors." A simple sentence, that was all it took, but if that boy said those words, she was trapped for life.

Oh, god. She was a slave to this Dubhshlain, this Harry Potter, and, and...

"Sign, Angelina. I can't perform the killing curse, but I can do a simple reducto to your head."

She had no choice. Angelina signed, Harry smiled and gave her her wand back, and walked back to his friends.

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While Harry went off to get revenge on his Angelina, Luna went to the bathroom. Or, more accurately, Luna looked at Blaise and told him simply that the Bibbling Humgubi wouldn't like what Blaise was about to do, so she would go comfort them. In the restroom.

As soon as Luna left, Blaise's house-elf, Arturo, appeared.

"Master, here are a pack of magic-dulling potions! As Mistress ordered me to bring to young master, so I have brought them."

"Excellent. Well done, Arturo." The house elf beamed, and Blaise looked at the potions carefully.

"My family has watched the Headmaster for some time, Arturo. Go and ask, does anyone eat Dumbledore's lemon drops, or is it just him?"

Arturo popped away for a total of ten seconds.

"No, young master. Twenty-eight years ago, a student pranked Dumbledore by spelling his lemon-drop cup so that only Dumbledore would want them. Anyone else would automatically dislike the very idea of Lemon Drops."

"How... quaint. A student's prank leads to a murder. Very well - Arturo, do house-elves unwrap the candy to up into Dumbledore's cup? Dumbledore wouldn't have time to do it himself..."

"Yes, Master. The Elveses do most of the shopping for Dumble's candy, too."

"Marvelous. Arturo, your job is to be that elf who unwraps the candy and puts it in the cup. Before placing the candies in the cup, every candy must be thoroughly soaked in the potion. And renew the enchantment on the cup... and add a new one: a compulsion to make Dumbledore want more candy. A VERY minor one, not enough for him to notice. You are dismissed!"

Arturo took the potions, bowed, and disappeared with a crack. Blaise smiled thinly. This would be an interesting job.

Then Luna walked back into the compartment, and Blaise decided that the train ride would be very interesting as well.

His sister - Bice, Bice, Bice - had been rather interesting too, so interesting wasn't, couldn't, be a bad thing.

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Melinda looked at Neville speculatively. He was smart, and although he was rather... pudgy... in the beginning of the previous year, he was now very fit and had brilliant grades due to all the training and a new wand. Furthermore, being raised a Pureblood heir, his manners were impeccable. She'd date him next year... besides, it seamed Hermione was more interested in Draco, anyway.

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Tom shuddered.

He had been in Hogwarts since the beginning of the day, and he had been getting a progressively bigger headache. Tom was not prone to headaches. And now, after checking on the wards, he has figured out why.

His soul was that of Tom Marvolo Riddle. And Hogwarts was feeding off his magic.

He growled as he examined the wards. Only two hours until the train arrives... Two hours to change those wards, make them feed off of natural magic. He could do that. But he wanted to do something else, as well.

He recognized Dumbledore's signature, but there were some other ones - one that was a were's another that reminded him of Bellatrix Estranges, but... wasn't quite hers. They would all have to die, but really, what was the point in killing every single werewolf? It was impossible and would start a revolution.

So for two hours, Tom Marvolo Riddle worked hard and without pause, ending with a bracelet on his wrist - a thick, braided cord that would sense and catalog all the adult magical signatures around him, and when it hit the were's or the not-Bella's signature, it would inform him... and tell him about the person's name and what that person looked like and how old he was. Quiet brilliant. Then Tom changed the wards, so that they fed on the natural magics.

It took only a minute before the headache ceased.

Really... that could have ended his magic, pulled the soul away from his body... had he not realized, he would have been dead - his soul pushed out of Gilderoy's body due to the lack of magic tying them together.

What a great trick.

It would also explain his random improvement within the sanity/common sense department. After all, if his Horcruxes were pushed out of their containments, then they joined him... and the last one joined him after he regained his body, so it went into Nagini? That made sense.

But really, if sanity was the cost of a horcrux, then he'd better not make anymore. He'd just figure out how to make Nagini indestructible... and he'd do it this weekend.

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Theodore Nott shivered.

His father was dead - and good riddance. His father had made him Smile.

He had made that little girl Smile, made his mother Smile before killing her; made random muggle women off the street Smile before raping them.

He had made his son watch.

He had made his son Smile.

But that was it. His father was dead. On that day, Theodore Nott became Head of the Nott Family, and he told the House Elves to open all the doors, bury all the corpses which his father had preserved. If anyone was still alive...

Well.

If it was a muggle woman, heal her completely, and change her memories - she had been kidnapped, then she escaped. Bring her to the center of London, in fresh clothes.

As for the little girl... Heal her, of course.

Then they'd figure out what to do. She'd been with them for as long as Theodore could remember. Then again, his father Imperio'ed him and used legilimency and confusion charms so often that his memories were all over the place.

She could have, hypothetically, come yesterday, and he'd been charmed to remember her.

Anyway, that little muggle girl, heal her, please, he told the house elf.

The house elf couldn't. His father had used a special knife, and if one had magic then it would scar. The little girl would Smile forever.

She had magic. She would Smile. The House-elf had removed almost all of the memory charms on her, then him. All right, the girl has been with them since... since his mother died. Since he had been eight. She hadn't spoke once, but she could. She wrote English on paper, and could hear him, and she laughed with her voice. She could speak, he was sure of it. She just didn't.

The House elf recommended taking her home.

He shrugged. He remembered the girl now, a lot better. She had a story.

She also Smiled. He would take the girl to Hogwarts, ask someone what to do.

Now, the girl was sitting still, in front of him. She had an invisibility cloak. He knew she was there, the impressions on the seat gave it away. She was swinging her legs. Sometimes a giggle escaped her.

Her Smile was just as ugly as his.

But she smiled, not just Smiled. So he'd keep her. She was better than anything or anyone else.

He had taken her with him to school last year, finding a random room in the dungeons, ordering a house-elf to bring a spare mattress into the room, and to bring food thrice a day there. He would go there, do his homework with her, explaining everything. She had no wand, but she listened and wrote questions and he answered as best he could. The house-elves brought her books, brought her things to color with and made her a special doorway, so should could enter Hogwarts paintings and wander around, invisible. She always wore the cloak. And she was always in her room when Theodore hurried there.

Someone knocked on his compartment. Theodore replaced the glamour on his face, so no one could see his Smile, and opened it, letting the trolley lady know that he didn't want any sweets.

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Severus Snape closed his eyes. He was far to tired for a new school year. No one appreciated potion-making anymore.

But really, he wished he had money to do research. He was smart enough for it, but research required going to a special school after Hogwarts, specializing in the subject. And there were no scholarships. So instead, he experimented on his own, sending letters to the editor of the Daily Prophet about what he figured out and such.

Severus sighed again. He and Lily had dreamed of going to the school; taking summer jobs in Diagon Alley and pretending that getting paid in sickles meant you can pay in thousands of galleons. Right.

And now Lily was dead... And he had to protect that Potter boy from the terrible DADA professor. He had read Lockhart's books, he knew them to be false - the timelines intersected. Last year, it was a madman

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Luna turned and looked straight at Blaise Zabini.

"Tell Harry to read about the Triwizard Tournament. You should, too. Can you teach me to dance? We have two hours left, and the compartments could be enlarged easily."

"Of course, I'll look it up. Why dancing?"

"It's important."

"Alright. Put your hand on my shoulder. What was your mother's favorite song?"

Really, thought Blaise, with a girl like Luna, he was actually rather... thankful that Harry had left and gone to terrorize students.

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"Welcome, Welcome to another year at Hogwarts..."

Harry tuned out the headmaster. Blaise Zabini was watching the man rather critically, but really, who cared. Another year, another schmear. Harry wanted food. He'd been petrified, for god's sakes, and then he'd wandered around, putting as many people under contracts as possible - no favors, though. Demanding too much from Magic and other people for no reason meant that Magic demanded way too many things from you.

If you took control, then eventually Magic expected you to take control, and if you don't, if you fail Magic and loose the Balance... that won't end well. But really, after Angelina, he had walked around, asking way too many people to be safe. Last time, he had Tonks doing most of the magic - stupefying and such. He could work on magicking the contracts.

Now? He had to do both to random people who were older than him... and do it to all the first years, as well. God. Harry wanted to eat and sleep and nothing else. Colin Creevy, Gryffindor... Luna Lovegood, Ravenclaw... Ginny Weasely, Slytherin... huh. Unexpected. Then: Food!

Harry quickly downed a bowl of soup, then began tearing into some stew. It was brilliant, and he was hungry, and quiet frankly, he couldn't care less about the giggling students around him.

Then, Susan Bones leaned forward.

"Have you been contracted?"

"What?" Harry blinked. Contracted? But he had forbidden letting people know about the contract unless they all already knew! Unless he had missed that bit in some of the contracts? Or maybe, students heard each other talking? Either way, they knew. This was confirmed by Susan's bright, cheerful, chatter.

"You know. Some kid, Duidchlane or something, is going around forcing everyone to treat each other well and do their best in class and stuff. Apparently, most of the contracts only enforce this rule in the seven years of Hogwarts, but some have it for life! Anyway, have you? I've been, and so's Hannah, and actually, most of the students, and listen to this: All of the firsties! That means that apart from a few separated cases, most people have friends from everywhere! Everyone's really confused about this, and some think it's a trick from Dumbledore, but others think a student made it up, and listen here: I think it's an Auror, sent by the Ministry 'cause they don't want any more wars! What do you think?"

Harry took another bite of stew, trying to process this. Fleur did not talk so much, and neither did Tonks. Honestly...

"I don't know. Yeah, I've got mixed up in this contract business, but I can't tell you what I'm thinking." All true. "I'm just too tired... ugh..." Also true.

Susan kept talking, and Harry forced himself to listen. Hannah interrupted once or twice, her words more speculative and thought out. Harry looked at her.

Hannah flushed.

Oh, dear god.

He really needed sleep.

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The paint stank; charmed to look and smell like blood. But getting that much blood was messy and difficult. In his plan, the following words would shine in the hallways:

THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED
ENEMIES OF THE HEiR - BEWARE!

THE WAR WAS FOUGHT, BUT NOT YET WON
IN TRUTH - IT HAS NOT EVEN BEGUN!

THE BLOOD WOULD FLOW FOREVERMORE,
UNTIL THE HEIR CLOSES THE DOOR

He would need something else to open the Chamber. He'd need - no, not a horcrux, but a copy, a ghost, an anima, and that particular ritual required the blood of the weakest, the innocent of the strongest species, and the love of a Banshee.

He could do it. Banshee's love was difficult, he'd have to save a life of one she'd wailed for.

Blood of the weakest - blood of a muggle child.

Innocent of the strongest species - a virgin (usually female) pureblood witch.

He'd go check on his family over the weekend, and just happen to pick up a child, stun him, and take him back. Daphne Greengrass, heiress to the Greengrass family... no, she'd be noticed. Her little sister, Astoria. Astoria Greegrass, just barely ten years old, definitely of the strongest, definitely very innocent.

He'd sacrifice her. Then, he'd have his Anima separated, he'd put in a diary, like last time.

His Anima. His Ghost. When a wizard died, the 'Ghost' held a copy of the memories, and one last desire that kept them there. He didn't know his desire, didn't care for it. At any rate, he could bind it do a diary, and have it plan to open the chamber. After all, his Anima was stronger than anyones', so they'd write in it, and eventually, their anima would be in the diary, and his would control the student. It was perfect.

The ritual took only a few hours. He could do this that following weekend, and give the diary to a student 'accidentally', and then the words would be up by Halloween! Nagini was certainly happy with the plan, and the Basilisk was bound to do what its master said.