So from this point onwards I shall refer to the third Tom as Riddle, until the character specifically states that he's going to be named Marvolo (which will be next chapter), and then it'll change for the last time. I hope that's not too confusing.
X
The next morning Harry awoke feeling worse than he had the day before. Although he had slept for a long time; the room was now filled with bright light streaming in from behind the curtains, he felt somewhat groggy and achy. His cut hand was throbbing slightly, and he scowled into the pillow, not wanting to get up. He felt cold and the bed was plenty warm.
"You can't stay in there all day," Tom's voice said somewhere above him, as a cold hand forced it's way onto his forehead and he heard Tom tut.
Harry just pulled away and wormed deeper into the bed, wincing when Tom yanked the covers from him.
"I'm afraid I have to be out today. Something…urgent has come up, and the Dark Lord and I will be gone for a few days, leaving now. You appear to be coming down with something so I'd like for you to go straight to the nurse on your arrival at school."
Tom sounded slightly angry, though Harry didn't know whether the anger was aimed at him or whatever was going on with Voldemort, but despite that he was incredibly grateful Tom wouldn't have time to question him this morning; if he found out the truth, given the mood they were both in, he didn't see it ending well.
The Gryffindor forcibly made himself sit up, trying to get his bearings as the room started to spin. He wondered if it was the poison taking effect or if he had simply come down with something.
"Don't get your hopes up that I'll have forgotten our talk, Harry," Tom reminded him with a smirk. Harry resisted the urge to stick his tongue out at the Dark wizard.
Tom left after that, and it took Harry a bit longer than usual to get himself out of bed and ready for the day. Even after showering and dressing he longed for the comfort of the bed.
He slowly made his way from the room, pausing before each new corridor and doorway to hear if there were any voices, but the Manor seemed to be deserted. He wondered if it had anything to do with what Tom and Voldemort were leaving for.
It was so quiet that Harry jumped when Narcissa Malfoy appeared in front of him.
"Hello, Harry," she greeted kindly. "It's very quiet today; perhaps you could keep me company and join me for some tea."
The tone of her voice suggested she wasn't really offering Harry a choice, so he nodded and followed her to a large and cosy sitting room overlooking the gardens.
Dobby was already waiting for them, a steaming pot of tea in his small hands, and upon their arrival he shakily poured out two cups for them, before bowing and vanishing from the room.
Narcissa indicated for him to sit in a chair across from her, and he took a sip of the hot tea as to not appear impolite.
"Nice tea," he said awkwardly, wondering what the woman's motive was for talking to him.
"We only get the best," Narcissa told him, sipping her own drink. "It's wonderful being in love, isn't it?"
"What?" Harry asked quickly, taking his eyes away from his cup to land on Narcissa.
"Being in love," she repeated, waving a hand. "I can see it in your eyes; the same look I have whenever I think of my Lucius. I suppose love is the only way someone from your family would ever consider joining our side."
"Well that's not the only reason," Harry muttered as he shrugged.
"I didn't mean that as a criticism," Narcissa assured him. "I was the same as you when I was young. I was raised understanding the values of blood purity; you know the Black Family motto?"
"Toujours Pur," Harry answered, remembering Sirius telling him years ago. "Meaning Always Pure."
Narcissa nodded. "We weren't a family of Death Eaters, though we believed in their cause, but then I met Lucius and we fell in love, and Lucius wanted to join the Dark Lord. As his wife and lover I accepted that, even assisting him in whatever ways I could, though I shall never take the Mark. However, despite my love for my husband and my willingness to accept him, what I cannot abide by is my son becoming involved; a mother's love for her child far outweighs that of her love for her husband."
"Do you know everything Draco's been asked to do then?" Harry enquired, looking at the woman with concern.
"Oh yes, I know," Narcissa said softly, her gaze drifting off, making her look entirely lost. "I am eternally grateful for you. Draco needs help, and I have asked a friend for assistance, but you are Draco's own age, and though you may not be school friends, a bond is growing between you and this will give Draco strength. He may not say so, but I know he is glad of your help."
"I have to help him, he doesn't deserve what the Dark Lord has planned for him otherwise," Harry answered with a small smile.
"I have two older sisters; Bellatrix and Andromeda. They are only a year apart, but I'm a few years younger than the pair, and I watched them both grow up in different directions. Bellatrix married a Pure-blood who she didn't truly love, becoming a Death Eater straight from school, while Andromeda married a Muggle-born and was disowned from the family. I disprove of Andromeda's choice of husband, but I knew she was happy, and her daughter, my niece, has been free to live her life as she wished and has had a safe and successful life so far. Yes, I do disprove of my sister, but I envy her for the life she has provided for her child."
"Does Bellatrix have any children?" Harry asked curiously, and Narcissa shook her head.
"She was still at Hogwarts when she fell pregnant. Due to her age and being out of wedlock, my mother killed the baby while it was still in the womb; Bellatrix could not bear to carry another after that, and I believe she devoted herself to the Dark Lord to distract herself from her pain. She is very much in love with the Dark Lord, and so she views Lord Riddle as her own son now."
Harry almost felt sorry for Bellatrix, had she not been the psychotic murderer of his Godfather.
They finished their tea in a comfortable silence, occasionally broken by Narcissa asking him questions about school and his plans for after graduation. She seemed to be friendly and somewhat motherly to him, but he could feel her depression coming off her in waves.
"Is it possible to get to Grimmauld Place from here?" Harry asked as the thought came to him.
"Of course, but I shall only tell you on one condition," she told him, and Harry nodded, indicating for her to continue. "Please take Draco with you; I don't want them returning and deciding to take Draco with them."
Harry nodded, Narcissa returning the gesture, and she called for Dobby to collect Draco for them.
"Draco, darling, I'd like you to accompany Harry to Grimmauld Place," his mother greeted, and though her voice was gentle, he could hear the motherly order in it as well.
"Certainly Mother," Draco replied, shooting a questioning glance at Harry who chose to ignore it for the time being.
Narcissa led the boys to another room with a large fireplace in and nothing more. She grabbed a pot from the top of the fireplace, which had the Black logo across the front. The Floo Powder she pressed into Draco's hand was the usual grey-ish colour, but it had specks of deep blue amongst it.
"Only those of Black blood can activate this Floo," Narcissa explained to Harry. "You'll have to travel with Draco."
The Slytherin threw the Powder into the flames, using his finger and thumb only to grab at Harry's wrist, pulling him into the now green fire.
"12, Grimmauld Place, London," Draco called, and moments later the pair were spluttering as they stumbled out the fireplace the other end.
Draco let go of Harry the moment he got his bearings straight.
"Why do you need to be here? How did you even know about this place?" Draco questioned, dropping the polite attitude he had used with his mother.
"My Godfather owned it; I guess I technically own it now, but it won't be official until I'm seventeen, not that I particularly want the place," Harry said with a shrug. "I wanted Remus to have it-you know, Professor Lupin? But he's not allowed."
"Of course not," Draco murmured. "Maybe when you're seventeen you could pass it on to another Black relative; the only way you'll be able to be rid of it now is to hand it over to family."
"Is that your way of asking me for a house?" Harry said with a grin, and even Draco smirked.
"Well it's either me or my Death Eater Aunt," the blond added, making Harry shake his head.
"Oh no, you have a dis-inherited Aunt and cousin who could own it; they're still Blacks even if they were blasted off the family tree."
"Of course, I forgot about Aunt Andromeda. Father never liked Mother to mention her," Draco muttered. "What are you doing here anyway?"
"Library," Harry answered simply. "I've tried yours and Hogwarts but they've not got what I need."
"It wasn't in the Manor's library?" Draco repeated with surprise. "How Dark are the spells you're looking at?"
"Err, pretty Dark," Harry answered honestly, taken slightly aback at the impressed look on Draco's face.
"I didn't know you had it in you, Potter," he commended. "I'll have a look at the library as well; I heard Great-Aunt Walburga had a vast collection."
"Hmm," Harry murmured. "Her portrait is down another hallway somewhere. I was never allowed near it but I could hear her screaming throughout the house. She'd like you though, I bet."
"I'd rather not; Mother said she was nearly as insane as Aunt Bellatrix. I was angry at her for what she did you know; blood-traitor or not, Sirius was still a Pure-blood and the last male heir of the Black family."
Harry just nodded mutely, turning away from Draco, the topic of Sirius still being a sore subject.
"I think we can get to the library through this doorway and avoid Mrs Black. I haven't been here much but I think that's right," Harry said, determinedly changing the subject.
It turned out that Harry was right and they managed to make it to the library without disturbing the screaming portrait. Harry thought he saw a small pair of beedy eyes watching them at one point but he couldn't be sure.
Draco had become thoroughly entranced with a book about murdering somebody without a wand, and had ceased all conversation with Harry as he read.
The first book Harry grabbed, only wanting to move it out of the way, had burnt him, and as the title was 'Ways to Protect Belongings from Those with Dirty Blood', he wasn't all that surprised.
He was slightly more wary after that, but after some time searching, when Draco was over half way in his book, he had managed to find two books about Ancient Magic which had information on Horcruxes in, although one was written in Ancient Greek and he'd need some way to translate that, as the only thing he understood was the name of the Author; Herpo the Foul. However he could find a spell for translating or something similar easily in Hogwarts. Surprisingly, despite the large size of Grimmauld Place library it didn't have any books not centred on Dark Arts.
Harry also managed to find a book about the Veil Sirius had fallen through, and he shoved it into his bag to read when he didn't have to quickly find a way to free a soul from a Horcrux.
"Are you alright?" Draco asked suddenly, and Harry looked up at him.
"What?" he answered dumbly.
"I've called your name three times; you're spacing out. You're not coming down with something contagious are you?" Draco asked warily, edging his chair slightly further away from Harry.
"Oh, yeah, I don't feel great but it's not contagious. Think I just had an allergic reaction to something; that happens sometimes," Harry lied, but Draco seemed to accept his answer.
"Well I've found a fascinating curse in here," the Slytherin told Harry proudly. "It puts a deadly curse on an object so whoever touches it is killed instantly. I can find a way to deliver that to Dumbledore and it won't be able to be traced back to me."
"And you won't have to look him in the eyes before you kill him," Harry said under his breath, but Draco heard him and scowled, though he had no response to Harry's comment.
"I think I might get Blaise to do my school-work for me from now on. You can come here at weekends to find out information on the Cabinet while I set up this curse."
"Sure-what is that?" Harry said, eyes zoning in as he saw the eyes again before they disappeared around a corner.
Harry jumped to his feet and turned into the aisle, where he could see something small attempting to hide behind a pile of books. Harry would recognise House-elf ears anywhere.
"Hello?" he called out. If the House-elf belonged to the house, it would now be his elf, and so should have to answer any order he had. "Come out to face me now, please."
Draco was behind him now, and they both watched as an old, angry looking House-elf left it's hiding spot, sulkily walking towards them.
"Are you my House-elf?" Harry asked the creature, and it nodded.
"Yes. What would my poor Mistress say, knowing Kreacher was having to serve a disgusting Half-blood, blood-traitor; Godson of Mistress' traitor son?"
"He may be Half-blood but he's no blood-traitor; he knows who to follow," Draco said in defence of him. "Stupid elf doesn't know what he's talking about."
"Err, Kreacher? Walburga Black was your favourite mistress then?"
"Oh yes, Mistress was very important to Kreacher, and Master Regulus; very kind to Kreacher he was," the elf told him
"Well, listen, I'm not going to be here much, so you can have free reign of the house unless I need you, and I'm going to let you keep anything you want belonging to Walburga or Regulus, apart from clothing, okay?" Harry said, in an attempt to soften the bitter House-elf up.
It seemed to work as the Elf's face seemed to light up; he could feel Draco rolling his eyes.
"That is very kind of you, Master. Kreacher will take good care of Mistress' and Master Regulus' belongings."
"Good, and don't call me Master; my name's Harry."
"No, Kreacher must treat Master with respect," Kreacher replied, looking at Harry with curiosity.
"Well, fine, but how about you go and have a look now? See if there's anything you like," Harry said, and the elf bowed before popping out.
"I don't see why you're so nice to them," Draco commented, and this time Harry rolled his eyes.
"You saw how angry he seemed before I was nice to him; a happy House-elf will be more loyal and work better."
"Whatever; we need to be getting back to Hogwarts soon."
As they were packing up to leave, Kreacher popped back in to see them.
"Master, I found this for you; it smells like you," he said, holding out a gold locket with a snake-like 'S' made from glittery green emeralds. Harry knew instantly what it was; the atmosphere around it was almost identical to the diadem.
"Kreacher, I need you to hide that in this house somewhere, and you are only to let me know where you hid it when I ask for it, okay?" he demanded, eyes growing wider as he could almost see the locket shaking.
Kreacher nodded and disappeared again, and Draco was looking at him awe-struck.
"Wasn't that Salazar Slytherin's locket?" the blond asked, amazed, and Harry nodded.
"We don't need it falling into the wrong hands, do we?" Harry responded.
Harry didn't think anymore of the locket as they returned to Hogwarts.
X
On Monday, Harry woke up feeling noticeably worse. He couldn't contain his shivering, and despite the beads of sweat on his forehead he could feel no warmth.
"I think I've just got a bad cold," he insisted to his dorm-mates who were trying to force him to see Madame Pomfrey.
He felt well enough to go to lessons and read the English-written book he had, but nothing of relevance came up.
On Tuesday, along with his fever he now had moment of dizziness to contend with. He battled through this in the morning, but by the afternoon he was feeling worse than before. He only had one more day until the poison killed him, and as he tried to cast a translation spell over Herpo the Foul's book he found his magic core was too weak to allow him to do that. Using Ancient magic almost caused him to collapse.
In a moment of desperation on Tuesday evening he found himself knocking on Snape's door.
"What do you want?" the professor snarled as way of greeting.
"Please, Severus, I need to talk to you," Harry said, calling him Severus to indicate it wasn't a school related problem.
"I told you to call me Professor Snape whilst we're at Hogwarts, Potter" the man hissed, getting ready to slam his door, but Harry reached a hand out to stop it.
"Please, it's urgent," he begged, wincing at how broken his voice sounded.
"Fine, come in, Harry," Snape said shortly, but his switch to Harry's first name told him that Snape was willing to listen.
As Severus shut the door behind him, Harry started to unravel the cloth from his hand.
"Are you unwell?" Snape questioned, and Harry nodded, showing his cut hand to Snape. The professor's eyes widened dramatically as he took sight of the injury which was now deep red and spread underneath his pale skin. "Poison? How has this happened? You need to get to a Healer immediately. I shall inform Lily for you."
"No!" Harry cried. "There's no point; it will kill me tomorrow evening. I just wondered if you knew what it was that did it; I know who can help me if I know what was used. But Mum will go crazy if you tell her; please don't."
Snape looked deep into Harry's eyes, frowning as he did so.
"Strange; there's a block, but it isn't quite Occlumency, almost as if this happened in another time," Snape muttered, more to himself than Harry. He took hold of Harry's hand and examined the cut, and after a few minutes he sighed and shook his head. "I'm afraid I cannot source the poison used. I can tell it's from a plant, and I can narrow it down to a type, but within that type are too many options and further tests would take too long."
"That's okay," Harry said softly, "it was worth a shot. Thank you anyway."
"Harry, stop, I don't know what's going on with you; you've clearly been taught Occlumency by an expert, and now you've been poisoned by some natural Dark magic; what exactly are you involved in?"
"It doesn't matter," Harry said, and Snape scowled.
"Of course it does; it's putting your life at risk; do you really have to be such a fool you'll allow yourself to be put in these situations? Your mother would die of a broken heart if you were to be killed."
"I won't be; I'll figure this out myself; just keep this quiet, please," Harry begged, and Snape nodded.
"I'm sorry, you know," the man said softly. "I hated your father and you were so like him as a child that I've never seen you as anything but James, even when you changed into your own person. As a professor I'm meant to stop bullying, but I ignored your troubles, thinking James deserved a taste of his own medicine, but of course it didn't affect James; it affected you. I know from personal experience how easy the Dark Arts can draw you in when you have no other comfort; I should have seen the signs, but now it's too late. I only hope your mother forgives me for failing you."
"How do you-?"
"Your Occlumency is good but not better than mine. I know you're soliciting with Death Eaters, but I don't know how deep or what you're caught up in, due to this block, though whatever it is, it's something bad. I've kept your alliance secret; it's your own choice."
"Thank you, just, trust me when I say I'll work this out and my parents won't have to bury their child."
"They better not have to," Snape said sharply, but he inclined his head as he showed Harry the door. "I expect you to do nothing but study this until tomorrow evening."
Harry returned to his dormitory to read.
Harry tried to do as Snape asked, but he was so tired from reading he ended up passing out, thankfully on his bed.
Neville pulled the curtains away from his bed Wednesday morning, and Harry hissed as the bright light blinded him, causing his head to start pounding.
"Are you still ill? Madame Pomfrey will be able to cure you in seconds, I bet," Neville said, his voice too loud.
"Don't want to. G'away," he mumbled into his pillow, and Neville sighed but complied.
"If you're not better by tomorrow I'll drag you there myself," he heard Longbottom say, and Harry laughed at the irony; tomorrow he'd either be better or dead.
He couldn't find the energy to go to lessons, but he forced himself out of bed. The only books he had found had drawn up blanks, and he didn't know what he could do now, other than accept his fate.
He shakily reached a hand down to grab the book on the Veil; perhaps it would say something about what happened to souls after death; it would be lovely to see Sirius again, and maybe he could find a way to send a message to Tom, telling him how sorry he was. He supressed a sob at not being able to say goodbye to Tom, but he couldn't find a way to get to him in time; he may not even be back from whatever he had been doing with Voldemort.
He decided to go to the Room of Hidden Things, taking the book with him so he could be alone. He threw the diadem in his bag as well, just in case he needed it. Maybe he could beg Riddle to cure him in exchange for anything the man wanted. He shuddered at the thought, but he was prepared to do that if he couldn't stand the fear in the last few minutes he had alive.
Harry flipped through the pages, realising with interest that the Veil was creating using Ancient Magic, and was dated back to the Greeks who believed it to be a new pathway to the Underworld. However many people were able to walk in and would come back out again as they were not accepted by the Veil, and these were people who had marks on their soul.
Harry's mind twitched at that; wasn't that what the books had said about him? That his soul was tainted with some kind of Ancient Magic? Maybe he could enter the Veil and that would hold off death for some time.
He forwarded through the pages, until he reached a passage about items entering the Veil. Some items in Ancient times were used to harbour souls, for all different purposes, but the items used would gain their own power and could be used by the dead in the afterlife. The items would be taken into the Veil by somebody with an 'impure' soul and exchanged for rescuing their loved one who had been trapped.
That was it. The answer to everything had been in the book he hadn't bothered to read, thinking it was of no importance.
But before he could do anything a sharp, searing pain swept across his forehead and he gasped, clutching his head as the pain spread and he couldn't feel the world shaking as he collapsed to the floor.
He awoke some time later with Draco above him, the blond looking unnaturally concerned.
"Do I need to alert Lord Riddle? Do you need the Hospital Wing?" Draco asked, but Harry shook his head.
"In my bag," he croaked, voice hoarse, "is a diadem. Can you get it for me please?"
Draco nodded and did as Harry asked, handing him the diadem.
"Ravenclaw's diadem? Did Riddle ask you to collect the Founder's items or something?"
Harry shook his head. "I need to do something now with the diadem, but it will knock me unconscious. Please, just let me do it, but don't leave me alone."
"Fine," Draco said, sounding annoyed, but he looked both curious and anxious as he watched Harry.
Harry ran his shaky fingers over the sapphire, and once again he felt the coldness and darkness take him over.
Riddle was watching him when he awoke, and he looked rather pleased.
"I was hoping you would return; I hope with good news," Riddle greeted, and Harry nodded.
"I found out a way to do it," Harry said, fighting off the urge to jump around and burn the sudden energy he had. Every ailment seemed to be gone, only a cut against his hand remained the proof of why he was here.
"I shan't heal you until I approve," Riddle warned, and Harry rolled his eyes.
"Do you know the Veil in the Department of Mysteries?" Harry asked, and Riddle nodded, interest now clear in his expression. "Well apparently items that hold souls are valuable to the souls of the deceased, and they'll exchange the soul inside for the item."
"How will you pass through without dying yourself?" Riddle questioned.
"I have a err, infection of my soul, from Ancient magic, I don't know what exactly, but apparently that's what it is, and the Veil doesn't like impure souls."
"Ah, so that's what I could sense on your soul; I did think so, but I couldn't be sure," Riddle mused, looking at Harry hungrily.
"What?" Harry asked, and Riddle smiled darkly.
"You shall find out in time," he answered simply, indicating for Harry to give his hand.
Harry held it out, and Riddle pressed something green into the cut. Instantly it began to feel hot, making his palm feel like it was on fire under his skin.
He watched transfixed as the cut healed itself, and Riddle's smile grew wider.
"Thank you," Harry said softly, and Riddle placed a cold hand against Harry's cheek.
"You wouldn't have died, you know? I would have kept you here and made you mine," Riddle said, and Harry didn't doubt him for a second. "You don't want me that way, do you? But there are no laws in this world; nothing to stop me, then again there's nothing to stop me in the real world either; I know no laws after all, but I can make the world mine out there; why control a single boy when I can control so many more."
"All you Tom Riddle's are focused on world domination, aren't you?" Harry said scathingly, and Riddle laughed coldly.
"How many versions of me are there in your world?"
"Just the two at the moment; there's the one from the diary, and then the, err, real one I guess," Harry told the older man, who nodded.
Riddle said nothing, but picked something sharp from the ground; an arrow head from the looks of things. Harry instinctively took a step back, much to Riddle's amusement.
Harry watched in horror as Riddle took the arrow and ran it across his own mouth, causing a burst of red blood to spill over his lips and chin, staining the pale white. It made him look like a monster.
Riddle stepped forward, pushing Harry into the nearest trip and gripping his wrists above his head. The older man pressed his bloody lips against Harry's, tightening his grip as he used his tongue to force Harry's mouth open. The younger boy struggled against the grip, but Riddle was too strong.
The teenager whimpered in pain as Riddle bit down hard on his tongue, and Harry felt his own blood fill his mouth, mingling with Riddle's.
Riddle finally released him after what felt like hours.
"You'll see," Riddle said vaguely, pressing his hand to Harry's forehead, causing a blinding white light across his eyes.
When Harry could see again he was back in Hogwarts, Draco still looming above him; the boy looked ghostly white.
"You looked dead," he said in a faint whisper.
"I almost was," Harry admitted. "I'm better now though."
"Well good, Lord Riddle would have skinned me if you died on my watch," Draco responded, but he couldn't meet Harry's eyes as he spoke. "Are you sure you're-?"
"Yes, I'm fine," Harry said with a smile as he eyed his healed hand. "Do you know any way I can get to the Ministry of Magic? I need to go to the Department of Mysteries but nobody can know; the sooner the better." He decided he may as well get started on freeing Tom straight away; the man hadn't said he had cursed Harry in anyway, but he was certain the Dark wizard would have put some precaution on Harry to make sure he would do as he said he would. Figuring it out was probably part of the man's torture regime.
"Yes, Pansy's father works in the Ministry; he's on our side of course, but the Ministry don't suspect him at all. Pansy owes me so I'll get her to contact him for us," Draco told him.
"Wait, us?" Harry asked, repeating what the blond had said.
"Well, yes," Draco answered somewhat awkwardly. "You wouldn't know your way round enough, and if you ran into anybody you won't be able to talk your way out of it because you appear to be useless when it comes to talking to strangers, especially if there's more than one. You need a guide, and you seem to be hiding things from Riddle at the moment, so I'm your best chance."
"You're very cocky, you know?" Harry said with a sigh. "But you're right. If Longbottom worked his way in I'm sure we can do it much more efficiently."
"Exactly," Draco answered with a nod. "I shall go and ask Pansy now. We'll do Ancient Runes work tomorrow in the library after our final lesson of the day; I'll pass the details onto you then."
Draco left him, bidding him goodnight, and Harry stood to prepare to leave too, but then he nearly yelled in terror as a voice echoed inside his head.
"Wonderful start, Harry Potter," the voice; Riddle's, said from within him. "The sooner you fulfil your duty, the sooner your mind shall be yours again."
X
How did you find the chapter? Shall we cheer for Draco/Harry friendship building?
What did you think of Snape? I find it difficult to write Snape in-character, but it's harder with this because it's an AU where Snape was friendly with the Potters (well Lily and Heather at least) and has seen Harry grow up. I didn't want to make him too canon-like because of this, but I didn't want him to be unnaturally friendly either. Did you think I managed to make it in the middle or was he leaning too near one side?
The diadem!Tom and Harry slashyness is running away with me slightly. It started as Riddle being desperate for human contact, but now he seems to be gaining his own obsession. I'm finding it works though, but even if I do make Tom/Marvolo (as I should now be calling him) be in lust with Harry, Harry won't feel the same way, because this version of Voldemort is a creep. Or I might just let Riddle drop his feelings.
See, I wasn't too happy with how some things have turned out in this chapter, so please let me know how you felt about it.
Next chapter will be fun; you'll find out what Voldemort and Tom were up to, Harry and Draco will be having their own Ministry trip and a familiar face will return.