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Valentines Day was not a magical holiday and was not celebrated by a large part of the magical community in Britain.

Walking into the Great Hall on that morning, Harry felt himself vomit in his mouth, just a bit. Not that he didn't like the color pink, it was just something that should be done in moderation. The walls had been festooned in garish pink ribbons. The tables covered in light pink cloths. Red, heart shaped trays were spread out all over the place and the candles which were normally white, were a bloody shade of red.

The professors at the Head Table looked annoyed, though Dumbledore was garbed in bright pink robes which were spangled with glittering red hearts. No one else seemed to be enjoying it. No one except the man behind it all. Lockhart.

He too was wearing pink, though his robes were much more in fashion and didn't not reveal shooting hearts at every second. They sparkled as well and every movement made the lights reflect off him. He shimmered for Merlin's sake! His enormous, white teeth had competition on this day.

"Hello my beloved students! I hope you enjoy your time on this joyous day of love! And I'd like to thank all the people who sent me cards of admiration! I have arranged these little gifts for you all. Free of course! My friendly, card carrying Cupids!" he said with his arms spread wide.

In front of him, was a very large group of Dwarves that had been dressed in white nappies, pink wings, and holding golden harps. Small red bags were slung around their hips.

Harry could hear Varix mutter some bad words that he wasn't allowed to say yet.

"And if anyone needs help with Love Potions, I'm sure Professor Snape would love to help you and Professor Flitwick is a master in Charms, he knows Enchantments and Beguilements!"

Snape's glare promised pain to any who dared to ask him for Love Potions while Flitwick was hiding his head in his hands. Snape's glare transferred to McGonagall when she leaned over with a smirk and whispered something to him.

The Dwarves dispersed as the students sat for breakfast. Harry was one of the few who were approached first. He eyed the small being walking toward him, wondering what the bloody hell was going to happen. The large, scruffy beard made the whole ensemble look ridiculous.

"'arry Potter?" he asked, holding out a rolled parchment.

He accepted it quietly and handed over a Galleon for his troubles. The Dwarf bowed and turned, pulling another scroll from his small red pouch and heading off toward the Hufflepuff Table.

He ran his wand over the scroll, noting that nothing was wrong with it. With trepidation, he opened it, seeing a long poem addressed to him.

In the beginning I assumed you were just some fool,

That your fame had gotten to your head,

But you've proven that you aren't some tool,

And that you are respectful instead.

I'm amazed at what you've accomplished,

And how you don't bask in your own name,

How you defy the expectations and every task is finished,

And you still remain the same.

I admire your heart,

I will watch your layers unfold,

Because this is the start,

And it's your heart I plan to hold.

Harry looked up from the scroll, feeling uncomfortable.

Hermione leaned forward, "What is it, Harry?"

"I'm not sure," he mumbled.

He handed the scroll over and she read it for a moment, before humming. "It's not a love declaration. More like an intention to court you. But instead of standard practice, this person is flat out telling you that they are pursuing you from here on out."

Who said courting anymore?

There was a throat being cleared at the trio looked over, seeing another Dwarf, but he wasn't holding anything.

"Singing telegram for 'arry Potter."

Singing? His stomach just dropped.

Harry sighed, "Just let me have it."

Best to get it over with now rather than later.

Another clearing of the throat.

His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad,

His hair is as dark as a blackboard,

I wish he was mine, he's really divine,

The boy who conquered the Dark Lord.

Harry's grimace was obvious as the Great Hall burst into laughter, having quieted down when they saw that Harry got a 'singing telegram'.

Malfoy opened his mouth like always, and jeered, "Why Potter, you're so divine!"

Harry grinned back, "So divine that I actually get declarations of adoration and yet you've gotten nothing. Not even from your own mother. How sad."

The laughing shifted form Harry to Malfoy and the Gryffindor gave a hearty wave, going back to his breakfast.

By first period, Harry had gotten more Valentines than Lockhart, beating out the blonde's forty-six by thirty-four declarations. It was a shock, because he hadn't gotten any the former year, but maybe it was just because they were mentioned this year. Or that he was a first year.

Harry was eighty Galleons short by the end of the day.

Varix, in a fit of annoyance over the treatment of the Dwarves, turned Lockhart's hair blue, his skin pink, and his robes orange with blue polkadots. And nothing the man did could fix it.

The next morning, four more students were found petrified. A Slytherin, two Hufflepuffs, and a Ravenclaw. A little information. A bully, a liar, and two ringleaders. A Pureblood, a Muggleborn, and two Halfbloods. All found on the first floor.

Harry paused on his way up the stairs. "Every attack has happened on the floor that Moaning Myrtle's Bathroom is on!" he realized aloud.

Hermione and Ron shared a look, the moment of clarity hitting all of them at once.

"Maybe Myrtle saw what happened!"

The three turned right around, running down the stairs.

With luck, they managed to sneak into the bathroom and find Myrtle sitting up in the high window, making loud whining noises.

"Hello, Myrtle," Harry greeted the ghost.

She turned to them, looking absolutely depressed. Well, more so than usual.

"Come to throw something else at me?" she whispered dejectedly.

"Why would I throw something at you?" inquired Harry, feeling confused and not liking it.

"Don't ask me. Here I am, minding my own business and someone thinks it's funny to throw a book at me," she whined, looking at the floor.

Harry's eyes followed her own, seeing the book.

Ron hummed, "But you're a ghost, so it wouldn't hurt if someone threw something at you."

"Yeah, but she does have feelings, Ron," Harry scolded, smacking his friend in the arm.

Harry went and picked up the black book, ignoring Ron's gasp.

"Don't touch it! It could be cursed. It could make you speak in Limericks for the rest of your life! It could make you not speak ever again!"

Harry turned it over, mouth dropping open. "Hey Mione, isn't Tom Riddle the bloke that thought Hagrid was guilty?"

"Yes."

"This is his diary."

Harry flipped it open, looking for anything. But there was nothing. No plans. No dates. It was… blank.

"That's suspicious. What's it doing here, fifty years later?" Ron asked, peering over Harry's shoulder.

"No idea, but I'm taking it."

"No you aren't!"

Varix appeared. She took the book from him. "Do not touch it. Don't ask me about it. If you really must know about it, I'll maybe tell you later, just go back to doing what you were doing before this. I'll see ya later."

She was gone, leaving the three standing in the bathroom.

Varix eyed the book. She knew what it was upon looking at it. Ginny was handling it when she was possessed and slaughtering the roosters. The possessor called himself Tom. The same name that was on the diary. The same name of the person who got Hagrid removed from the school. It was all connected.

With a snap of the fingers, she forced a sizeable amount of magic into the diary, watching as the form of a young, teenage boy shimmered into view before her. He wasn't solid, but he was still visible. Transparent at best. He was attractive in an older charm sort of way. His black hair was wavy and pushed to the side and his eyes looked to be a light shade of green. He looked a lot like Harry did, but with manageable hair. His robes showed that he was a Slytherin and there was a Prefect Badge on his chest.

He looked surprised to see her.

"You're the fairy that everyone has been speaking about?"

"Obviously," she scoffed. "You're the one possessing Ginevra."

"I'm afraid I'm just a memory. I don't have that sort of ability," Tom said with a serene smile. If she didn't know he was guilty, she'd probably have fallen for his layered on charms.

"You should really watch what you speak to when possessing somebody. You told me yourself that you are called Tom and that you were killing the roosters to protect a friend of yours."

Realization lit within his eyes, but he said nothing.

"So, you've been possessing a little girl. You suddenly appear this year. And everything that happened while you were in school fifty years ago, is happening again. It doesn't make sense that Hagrid is behind it, since his Acromantula is physically too large to fit into the castle to be able to move anywhere, it's also blind and old, and the fact that Acromantulas are carnivorous and there wouldn't be any bodies to be found if it was Aragog. Then we add on the fact that no one has been bitten and the fact that Hagrid - if he was indeed behind it all - had all of these years to do something so why only pick this year? Makes no sense.

Your name has come up a lot. Your plaque, your busting of Hagrid, your diary, you telling me while you possessed Ginny, who you were. Tom Marvolo Riddle, son of Tom Riddle and Merope Gaunt. Slytherin's last Heir. And I noticed something while messing around with some information. I AM LORD VOLDEMORT. Care to share anything about that?"

Tom's face finally changed, he was staring at her with eyes filled with deep emotion. "Do not compare me to that old fool! We may have been the same once, but he completely lost himself somewhere in the middle."

Tom turned to the side and began pacing as he talked. "There wasn't supposed to be a war. War kills people. Wizards and Witches are already in the minority. There aren't enough of us left. A few million compared to how many Muggles there are, we're outnumbered. War was an unnecessary step that he didn't have to take."

"Why did he?" Varix asked.

"I don't know," admitted Tom. "I had it all planned out. I learned of my heritage. Being Slytherin's Heir would help me. When I was in school, I only said the chamber had been opened. I never pointed fingers at the Heir, because it would compromise my plans. There are other Parselmouths that don't belong to the Slytherin Line. The chamber is open to all Parselmouths.

I was a model student and with little Ginny's aid, I have learned that I went on to be the best student to graduate from Hogwarts. Twelve Os on my O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s. Prefect and Head Boy. I kept a tight leash on my followers because I was working the school. I was respectful to everyone, even if I didn't like them, because I was trying to lessen the hatred of Slytherin House. If the rest of the school knew me as a helpful individual, then when I entered the Ministry, they'd remember my kindness and I wouldn't have to bribe people with money or false platitudes to get their compliance with my plans."

It was a sound plan. He had already been thinking so far ahead for his future when he was in school.

"So what changed your mind from Muggleborn to every blood type? And what about killing Myrtle?"

Tom sent her a glare. "She was an accident. I was only trying to scare them away. Myrtle was a frequent subject of bullying. She would run and cry in random places in order feel better. I released the Basilisk, not knowing that she had come into the bathroom and she died the moment she saw it. It returned immediately to tell me what happened and I had to close the chamber.

I continued my rounds and a few Ravenclaws were out past curfew and told me that Myrtle went into the bathroom to cry because Olive Hornby was teasing her about her glasses. I allowed them to go and find her body, which they then came to me blubbering about it and I went to fetch Headmaster Dippet.

They were going to close the school. I needed to place the blame on someone. Luckily the Ministry is full of idiots and they didn't even question my claims. Hagrid suffered yes, but he's still here. And the school isn't closed."

"Yes, but they're talking about closing it again, you fool. And you didn't explain the difference between these times."

Tom sighed. "I've had fifty years in that diary to think about my sixteen years of life that I managed to live. I don't like it. Any of it. You know what the diary is, I can tell. I made the diary into a Horcrux a week after Myrtle's death. I found a book in the restricted section - I had unlimited access thanks to the Slytherin Head of House - and it described immortality.

Living in the Muggle world during a war had terrified me as a child and teenager. I knew I was better than the people around me and I was terrified of dying and not being remembered. I saw the method for immortality and I did so."

"Did it hurt a lot when you did the ritual?" asked Varix as she thought on the situation. Something wasn't adding up.

"Yes. I remember being in the Room of Requirement for nearly ten hours during the ritual and when I awoke so to speak, everything was in a sepia coloring and I couldn't leave the version of the castle in the diary. I was stuck."

Varix rolled her eyes as the whole problem was revealed. "Despite being a genius, you're kind of stupid."

He bristled at the insult, but she held her hand up to stall him.

"You made a Horcrux, at least, you think you did. A Horcrux has to be done only when you kill an innocent. Full out murder. Right after the kill is done. You just described to me, how you sent the Basilisk to do something, Myrtle saw it and died, and it immediately returned to tell you what happened. You didn't kill Myrtle. When you kill someone, your soul fractures.

Yes, you are a Horcrux of a sort. But Horcruxes are the kind of Dark Magic that is bad, because Soul Magick hurts you. Because you created a Horcrux of sorts without actually murdering anyone and without having a fractured soul, you managed to strip at least half of your soul from the original casing, taking with it, all of your rational thought and inherent pleasantness. This left your other self with only half a soul - which was damaged from you ripping it apart so suddenly - and all that negativity you grew up with.

Voldemort is insane. You haven't even read everything on what he did yet.

The problem here is that you used a Dark Ritual without fulfilling all the requirements. That's why it was painful. Making a Horcrux doesn't hurt. It's absorbing the Horcrux that is painful. You need to feel true remorse for the murder you committed, in order to take the soul piece back. Most don't live through the process. But because you messed up, I can say that if you plan to absorb your other self, good luck. It could hurt, or it might not hurt. I can't say, because I've never heard of this happening before. The clashing of temperaments might be too much for you to handle. His soul piece might overtake yours."

Tom was staring at the floor by the time she was finished. He also looked ready to blow.

"On to other things," Varix said, shifting for a better position in her chair. "What was your plan for the Ministry?"

Now that they were back on familiar footing that didn't seem to make him feel like an imbecile, Tom nodded. "I lived in an orphanage. It was terrible. Because I was better at everything, better than everyone else, they hated me. Bullied me. Treated me terribly. I don't like Muggles because no one helped me. No believed me. I was not given a good example and my hatred for Muggles stems from personal experience, not Pureblood bigotry.

There needs to be a magical orphanage. There is one in Japan, but only there. We need one here and now, because the Muggles wouldn't understand accidental magic, but proper matron witches would prevent bullying because of freakishness. They'd explain that there wasn't anything wrong with the children. They wouldn't force them to go through a six day long exorcism," Tom said harshly.

Poor kid. People aren't allowed to eat when being exorcised. The priests or the subject.

"We also need a magical primary school in Britain, like the Muggles have. When I was at Hogwarts, only Australia, Japan, and Brazil, had something similar to primary schools, for their young magical children. This would get the children used to life in the magical world earlier, making sure that they aren't grasping at the seams. Also, they wouldn't have to suddenly abandon their friends in the Muggle world and come to this new world where they don't know anyone and everything is an awkward, uphill battle."

Varix was nodding. "I like that. Most countries that have a magical government, actually have different schools. A lot of them have also begun to build colleges/universities to further magical study, but instead of the government paying for that type of schooling, they have to pay for it themselves."

"Yes, the British Ministry of Magic pays for Hogwarts. What really happens is they pay for the food. Food is one of those things that can't be created out of thin air. Laws of physics and magic apply there. The students buy the books and the uniforms, ingredients, and pets, in order to keep money circulating. The professors - if they aren't volunteering - are paid through a separate donation fund that was set up for them by the Ministry. If a class averages to an E or an O, they receive a rather large amount of pay. Anything below isn't worth much. So if they push, their pay is on the line.

Since magic can fix most other things, the Ministry simply purchased a large plot of land in Ireland and hired a great amount of Muggles to deal with it. The food comes form the land and the pay from the Ministry goes to the Muggles who work on it. Shipments are made by a Mass Portkey to Hogsmeade and the House Elves fetch it every month. It all comes full circle eventually."

Varix was reminded of Hermione. Tom was like a well of information that just had to inform people of what he knew.

Tom's form flickered a bit, but he still remained visible.

"I had gotten on the good side of all the important professors. Especially Slughorn, who had connections. I was his star pupil. I planned to go into the Wizarding Child Services Division and work my way up from there. But now… with the original's mistakes, I'll have even more work ahead of me."

The Slytherin sighed.

"And what about your fixation on Harry Potter? You sent him the poem, right?"

Tom's lips pulled into a small smile. "He's different than what I expected," he said softly. "I know that my other self is regarded as the greatest Dark Lord in history. The prestige that would undoubtedly come from being the person to slay such a foe, would be unimaginable and yet, Harry Potter is innocent, a bit naive, and kind. Not at all what I'd expect a famous Gryffindor to be like."

"He was supposed to be a Slytherin but people worked him over when he learned he had magic. He was convinced that all Slytherins were bad and evil and he didn't want to be evil by being put there. Also, Draco Malfoy is like his bully of a Muggle cousin. Spoiled rotten and pompous. Harry can't stand the brat. So he begged for anywhere else and the Sorting Hat put him with the lions.

Harry grew up being hated by his supposed 'family' and worked like a House Elf because of them. They fear and hate magic. Dumbledore apparently didn't want him to get a 'big head' with the fame."

Tom's eyes hardened instantly. "That is the sort of treatment that I wanted to prevent! Bloody Muggles!"

Varix's hand flashed faster than either of them could see, but by the time it was over, Tom was clutching his cheek, looking at her like she was insane.

She sneered at him, "Are you really that much of a hypocrite? You'll blame the whole group of non-magical humans simply because of your shitty childhood? Harry doesn't blame all of the Muggles. His best friend has Muggle parents! The Grangers are nice people and have even gone so far as to purchase books on the wizarding world so they could better understand the laws and their daughter's schooling. You don't see Harry blaming all of the wizarding population because Dumbledore left him with those people.

Hate Muggles all you want, but don't be ridiculous. Harry has more reasons to hate them. You didn't know those people and held no relation of any kind to them, but his blood relatives did that to him. And while I'm on it, your other self murdered his parents. Harry doesn't hate all wizards because of Voldemort's actions toward his family."

She and Tom stared each other down.

He finally gave a small nod. Sharp. The problem was dropped, allowing them to return to more important matters of discussion.

"You refer to Harry so informally. You're his fairy godmother, aren't you?"

She grinned, "Damn straight! He'll be a lawyer by the time I'm finished with him."

"Caustic, cunning, and clever? Basically a Slytherin?"

"Sort of, but a little nicer and a lot less concerned over appearances."

"Appearances can say a lot about a person," he said ominously.

"True, but I want him to think more clearly at the moment. He may be reading etiquette books, but he won't be actively using the information for a while. He still forgets that I can grant wishes. And he remembers to thank me when he does make a wish. Six months and he sees me more as a friend than a well of wishes."

Tom was smiling. He seemed to really like Harry.

"So," Varix began, intending to get the last issue out of the way. "Convince me on why I should let you kill someone to get a body of your own in order to become a real person again. Convince me on why I should allow you to date my kid."

"I was originally going to use Ginny, but I felt that that wouldn't endear Harry to me, so I've fixed my views on Lockhart."

Varix sat up in interest. The creep was a liar. None of his books made sense, half of them had incorrect information and she even knew the vampire lord from Voyages With Vampires personally, and he had a completely different story from Lockhart's. Also, Lockhart had no respect for magical creatures and beings. His treatment of the Dwarves all for Valentines Day was enough to annoy her. He literally had used up all points and was walking on thin ice.

"He's a fraud," Tom revealed. "I - through Ginny - stole some Veritaserum from the Snape man's potions cupboard and used it on him. He lied. His only skill is Obliviation. Half of his books are truth, which he took from the original wizards and witches and then Obliviated them, before leaving them for dead in dangerous places. The rest is all fictional and too fantastical to be truth. I don't like him and whenever he's around Harry, he's gets too... physical."

Truth. Lockhart was very touchy feely with Harry.

"Fine. The next time you petrify people, make it a large crowd. That way the professors will send Lockhart out to deal with the problem. You get him, do whatever, and I'll make everything in his office and private rooms, disappear.

Now about my godson."

"I like him. At first it was just interest, but his defense of the Slytherin girl captured my heart in a sense."

Varix quirked a brow. His heart was captured all because Harry defended a Slytherin from a Gryffindor bully? Did the kids these days not have anything else that interested them in people?

"You do know he's twelve, right?"

"Going on thirteen."

She snorted, "We're talking about a kid who isn't used to affection. Whose first hug came from his friend Hermione. Who sees his crying as a weakness. And you want to start a romance with him?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because he's worth it."

Alright, she was on board.

Technically, as she had already been to the future thanks to the lapse in times between the fairy realm and the mortal realm, she already knew what would happen, to an extent. But just because she knew the outcome, did not mean that she couldn't make it difficult for the boy. No, no, no. He was going to work for Harry's affections. Plain, old fashioned wooing.

Varix sent the teen a grin, delighting in the wary look he adopted. This would be fun.

The next day, Hagrid was carted off by the Minister for Magic. No trial. No proof. He was imprisoned unjustly and when Varix told Harry, he flipped out.

On another note, Tom's diary had been given to Lockhart and a mild compulsion made him write in it.

Soon, the Chamber of Secrets business would be over with and things would return to normal.

A/N: Another is done.

-Tom didn't kill Myrtle so he didn't fulfill the requirement for the Horcrux ritual. So he tore his soul in half instead of separating a fractured piece. This started Voldy on the crazy path.

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CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR. THE LINK IS ON MY PROFILE. I FOLLOW BACK.