"Hello, Harry Potter. My name is Tom Riddle."

Harry watched, fascinated, as letters formed into an elegant handwriting. He really got a reply from the diary. The room around was silent, and all Harry could hear was a steady beating of his own heart.

"T. M. Riddle," Harry wrote back, because this was written on the front page. "What does M. stand for?"

"Marvolo."

Tom Marvolo Riddle, Harry mused. The letters disappeared into the page, yet they were still edged in his mind. Harry was convinced that it was Voldemort, there could be no mistake in it, so the only conclusion was that Tom Marvolo Riddle was his real name. He always wondered… and Nagini never told him, even when he tried to bribe her with a hundred mice, dozens of rabbits and a handful of other small animals. She had the gall to accept the offerings anyway, but still never disclosed the name.

There was an odd satisfaction in the fact that he managed to get the name now so easily, without even having to ask. But the fact he knew it was Voldemort… he had to bring this up, he wanted to ask. He wrecked his brain for the best way to articulate such a question. After staring at the name he wrote out in his notes, where it wouldn't disappear, and staring at it some more, deliberating, what he ended up writing was:

"I am Lord Voldemort?"

He blinked, staring now at his own handwriting disappearing into long silence. Before he could explain what he meant, there was an answer.

"You are most certainly not."

"No, of course not. You are."

The silence stretched, so Harry added. "I always wondered where the name Voldemort came from. So it was an anagram of your real name all along. That's clever."

"You know of Lord Voldemort?"

The question was worded carefully, without admitting anything Harry said before. Fine, he could play this game too.

"Yes."

Clearly, it was an insufficient answer that wasn't disclosing anything new. If Tom wanted to get answers, he would have to ask.

"Are you a friend?"

"Does the Dark Lord Voldemort have a concept of friends?"

Harry leaned back in his chair, twirling the quill between his fingers and waiting for a reply. He could understand why the diary would want to be careful, assuming that it had no knowledge of Harry Potter and anything that transpired between them. It was like speaking to a completely different person, yet he won't be swaying from his conviction that it was Voldemort. Apart from the clear presence he felt, now he also had a name and letters that rearranged so neatly, it couldn't be a simple coincidence. Finally, he saw the ink reappearing again.

"Surely, my name is not the only reason that makes you think I am Lord Voldemort."

While not written outright, the question hanged between the words. Harry had no qualms admitting the truth. Maybe, this way he'll also finally get his own many questions answered.

"I can detect the exact same presence in you. So even if you deny it, I won't believe you."

"You've met Voldemort."

"Yes."

"Do you know what exactly this diary is?"

"No."

Nothing else followed, so Harry decided it was his turn.

"What is it?"

"A manifestation of memories up to a particular day in my life."

"Memories of Lord Voldemort?"

"Yes."

So he wasn't denying it after all. And the explanation sounded plausible. Harry's own awareness of Voldemort started with memories accessed through Occlumency lessons. While there might still be another reason as to why exactly it worked this way, for now it made sense to Harry.

"Tell me, Harry. How do you have this diary?"

"I took it."

Harry could almost detect the confusion radiating from the diary. "Took it?"

"One of the faithful followers of Lord Voldemort had the diary in his possession. When I sensed it, I knew I had to take it. So I asked nicely."

"And why exactly were you able to sense it?"

"I don't know. But it's something I could do ever since I entered Voldemort's mind."

"You entered Voldemort's mind?"

Harry chuckled. Tom seemed more confused with each discovery.

"I like how it sounds. But no, actually. Voldemort taught me Occlumency, and technically he entered my mind, but I accidentally slipped into his."

"What did you see?"

"Nothing important."

"This cannot be. All my memories are important."

"Are you sure you want to talk about it now?"

Tom didn't press further, but there was no other answer or question either. Harry wasn't sure what to say as well. He had a million questions, now more than ever, but he couldn't just bombard the diary with it. Tom must have had a lot of questions too, but he was cautious. There was no telling up to what point this Voldemort had his memories. Although, he could just ask. It was a bit unusual how Tom was actually acting so calm and willing to talk, there was no underlying anger coming from the diary.

"What is the last memory you have?"

"Creating the diary."

"I mean, when was it for Voldemort?"

"Right at this moment."

Harry could imagine a smug amusement with these words. Why did he think Tom was actually willing to talk? Before he could elaborate, Tom seemed to take pity on him.

"Currently, my awareness is of a sixth year student in Hogwarts."

"It means, you are only fifteen now?"

That explained why this Voldemort wasn't angry with him, or didn't have any reaction to Harry's name at all.

"Sixteen." And Harry recalculated, remembering that Tom's birthday must be at the end of the year. "What about you, Harry?"

"I'm about to start my second year at Hogwarts."

There was a pause, as if Tom was trying to make sense of this information.

"Why would a faithful follower of mine hand over an important object to a twelve-year-old?"

He practically saw an indignation seeping through the sharper edges of the elegant handwriting. Harry had no real answer to this question himself. He considered himself lucky, Lucius was still a bit wary of him. Harry had no idea what Lucius even planned to do with the diary, but it couldn't be anything important if he changed his plans so easily. Come to think of it, the diary was probably a dark object, maybe Lucius was only happy to get it off the Manor no matter the means. Harry was pretty sure only he could sense the presence of Voldemort in it, but if it came to it, there were means to detect dark objects during the Ministry raids. Now Harry hoped they weren't planning an unexpected visit while Harry was still here. There were only a couple of days left before Hogwarts, he will be definitely bringing the diary with him.

Seeing as Harry took his time to answer, Tom added.

"Are you a follower yourself?"

"No, and never intend to be. I'm not the following type."

Guessing an impending misunderstanding, Harry clarified.

"I am not against Lord Voldemort. We are allies, and your diary is safe with me."

"So young, and already allying yourself with the Dark Lord. Yet, refusing to follow. What authority do you have over my followers, then?"

Harry smirked despite himself.

"I'm that special."

There wasn't really a simple way to explain it. He'd have to disclose what happened to him and Voldemort so far, and Harry wasn't ready to delve into it yet, unless Tom were to ask pointed questions. He saw no reason to deliberately hide anything from the diary, but he wasn't about to just pour his soul into it either.

"Is that also why I chose to teach you Occlumency?"

"You make it sound like I am the Chosen One."

As soon as Harry wrote it, he froze, realising how actually close to the truth it was. Ironically, it was Voldemort who chose to attack the Potters that night for whatever reason. Would it be wise to tell Tom all about it, after all?

"Now, Harry, I'm sure you are not an ordinary boy. I can tell that much, if I personally gave you lessons in Occlumency. No reason to avoid my question."

"It's complicated."

"How lucky, that I don't have anywhere else to be. You can tell me everything."

The situation was oddly similar to the way Voldemort asked 'Do you have anything to hide from me?' Harry decided back then, that no, he didn't. Since Tom Marvolo Riddle was Voldemort, Harry could tell him everything. But at the same time, the situation was different. Harry certainly had more control over his words now than he had over his memories. But if he couldn't tell anything to Tom, then who could he ever tell anything at all?

Harry dipped the quill into the ink bottle, preparing for a long tale.


Bit by bit, Harry wrote about the key events that happened so far, starting with the fateful night on October 31, 1981. It was Harry's chance to tell Voldemort his side of the story, so he chose his words carefully. Tom was an attentive listener, by the follow-up questions it was evident he was interested and intrigued. He also wasn't throwing accusations before Harry provided an explanation. He wasn't getting angry or mad. It was a relief to be able to hold a genuine conversation. For the first time since his last conversation with Nagini Harry felt like the tension that persisted in his mind was subsiding.

Tom also caught onto things quickly without the need for Harry to offer too long explanations, and when Harry could provide none, he didn't press. When Harry had questions of his own, he readily answered, but not always, so Harry wasn't persistent, returning the courtesy. Some things prompted all the more confusion.

"I learned about magic from Nagini. She was also the one who told me about you."

"Nagini… told you?"

"Yes."

For a moment, Harry wasn't seeing what would be so confusing about it. Talking to Nagini became so natural to him.

"You can speak Parseltongue?"

"Yes…" Now Harry understood, this was bound to create a profound uncertainty. He remembered his own thoughts when he first discovered how unique Parseltongue was. He didn't wait for Tom to voice his doubts.

"No, we are not related in any way. That's for sure."

"How can you be sure?"

"At least, that's what Nagini said."

"It must be so, then."

Harry haven't thought too much about his Parselmouth and Parselmagic abilities, since he just accepted them as an inherent part of himself. Nevertheless, it was a mystery and, one of many that probably only Voldemort could figure out. Maybe he already did. Harry's connection to Nagini was also a mystery, and it might as well all be related.


"So the current state of Lord Voldemort remains uncertain."

Tom observed once Harry finally reached the most recent events. His last bit of knowledge about Voldemort was him riding off into the sunset with Nagini. But he wouldn't call it an uncertain development.

"I wouldn't know specifics, but the Philosopher's Stone should help him regain a body, so that's a pretty certain thing."

"From what I know, the Philosopher's Stone can be used to produce an Elixir of Life, which would provide a form of immortality. But to gain an immortal body with it, or a body at all, must require a change in the recipe. Not to mention, a recipe to the Elixir of Life itself must be derived first. A thorough research will be needed."

"But surely it's not impossible?"

"Even if it is, when did impossible ever stopped me?"

"You tell me."

The confidence Tom possessed, Harry knew it wasn't unfounded. Yet, it still amazed him when Tom expressed it so effortlessly. Tom didn't bother answering such an obvious question, so Harry thought more about the Philosopher's Stone. He honestly hasn't even suspected that it might not be a sure way for Voldemort to gain his power again, with how obsessed he was about acquiring it. And Voldemort could have already done the necessary research beforehand. While Tom was knowledgable, he couldn't possibly know everything there was to know, especially if he hadn't focused on this subject enough so far.

"It might take time for him to regain his body then." Harry concluded.

"Indeed."

"But he must know what he is doing, since he even agreed to the contract ritual with me over the Stone."

"And that is the most concerning bit of information I learned so far."

"Why?"

Harry was pretty sure there were more concerning bits he disclosed, like defeating Voldemort, him losing his body, having his face at the back of someone else, even Harry's ability to speak Parseltongue…

"Why would anyone agree to that in their right mind?"

"I guess, as of now, Voldemort's state of mind isn't… completely right?"

"Exactly."

Harry wasn't sure what to say to that. Harry saw Voldemort's madness with his own eyes and accepted it as a given. He knew that it wasn't always like this, Nagini and Narcissa alluded to that. Even with Harry, Voldemort managed to hold decent conversations lately, when he eased on the anger. Still, a somewhat insane glint in his eyes was a constant. The most sane Harry had seen him was after the contract ritual, when the man himself admitted his mind became clearer. So, the ritual couldn't be as concerning in itself. Voldemort even said he was more accepting of it. But Tom couldn't know all the intricacies that were happening in Voldemort's mind at the time, and it seemed like what concerned him the most was the state of Voldemort's mind itself. Harry didn't know when the mental decline began, but he doubted it was as early as when he was sixteen. And so far, from the way he talked, Tom seemed perfectly sane.

Harry waited to see if Tom would write anything else. Sometimes lulls like this happened in their conversations, so after waiting for several minutes, Harry simply closed the diary and put it away. After all, his life didn't revolve around Tom, he had other things to do. Although, he could admit, as of late they all paled in comparison.


The moment he opened the diary next time, the words began appearing without any prompting on his part.

"What took you so long to grace me with your presence, Harry?"

Harry could sympathize. Even if just a memory, Tom had only Harry to talk to. Harry himself had an itch to write in the diary all day, but the road to Hogwarts and then the welcoming feast didn't offer many opportunities. He didn't want to draw unnecessary attention, so he waited till he could be in the privacy of Slytherin dormitories. Somehow, despite his best efforts he still managed to get some weird looks when he offhandedly mentioned the ethereal beauty of the winged horses that pulled the Hogwarts carriages. Everyone else was convinced that carriages were just enchanted to move on their own. Which reminded him.

"I was meaning to ask. What is up with Hogwarts carriages?"

"Nothing is up with Hogwarts carriages. You'd know if you read anything about thestrals."

"Thestrals?"

"The creatures that pull the carriages."

"So they do exist."

"Yes, but not everyone can see them. Interesting that you did."

"I must admit, Care of Magical Creatures is a subject I haven't delved far into yet. Why would I be the only one to see them?"

"Surely, not the only one, but a rare one at your age. They are only seen by those who witnessed death with full comprehension of its reality."

Harry looked at the words for a long moment before they disappeared. That wasn't something he expected as an explanation, but it made a lot of sense now. Witnessing someone die wasn't a common thing, making thestrals an uncommon knowledge as well, especially among younger students. It was also understandable why Tom found it curious. Harry omitted some details of his first encounter with Nagini, finding them not so important. There was only so much he could share with Tom in a limited time, a lot of other points had a priority, so the Dursleys had honestly slipped his mind. He lived with his muggle relatives once, now he didn't, and that was it.

"That's not entirely surprising at all."

He finally replied. For how long he took to answer, Tom must have come to his own assumptions.

"Does it make you sad, remembering it?"

"Not at all. Even if I were to feel anything about it, sadness would be the last thing for sure."

"Tell me then."

"The very first day I met Nagini, she killed my uncle."

"Were you angry about it?"

"I wasn't happy about it, because it forced me to deal with the consequences. But he was the lowest of the muggle scum, he deserved it. My cousin too."

"Also Nagini's doing?"

"Yes, I let her hunt him."

"Whatever happened to your aunt?"

"She died. Something I didn't get to witness. Although, it was also Nagini's venom that killed her. A different kind, the one that makes it impossible to disobey a Parselmouth."

"To think that my Nagini let you discover this much about her power."

"She couldn't lie. And it was part of dealing with the consequences."

"I see. So, how exactly that venom killed your aunt?"

"I told her to die."

Tom didn't seem shocked or appalled, he only grew more interested to learn the details, so Harry described how he dealt with Petunia and how he used her death in a case against Dumbledore. Tom was thrilled to know how it affected the old man's position and pleased that Harry actively sought to cut any ties from him.

"I can see how Dumbledore would want to use you as a weapon against me. Since the public already expects it from you."

"The public still fears Voldemort's name, but I doubt anyone actually suspects your return."

"Dumbledore must suspect it. No, he is certain of it and all but preparing. The Stone trap you told me about was so obviously orchestrated, all to lure me into Hogwarts."

"Was he really expecting me to defeat you again or actually stop from getting the Stone?"

"Apparently."

"Why would I even consider doing something like that?"

"You would if you were a perfect little Gryffindor."

"I'm not."

"And that's where Dumbledore miscalculated. He must have still believed in some inherent Gryffindor in you, since he proceeded with the farce, but it only backfired. He won't be as careless anymore, I believe. While he might not suspect the full extent of what your role was with the disappearance of the Stone, you must be careful from now on. I doubt he is taking lightly your connection to Malfoys either."

Harry knew all that, he wasn't a fool. But as long as Dumbledore had no proof over anything, Harry wasn't entirely concerned. The only weak link was Snape, but his own involvement made it unlikely for him to spill the beans, unless he had a death wish. Thinking of death, Harry mused about thestrals again.

"Have you seen thestrals, Tom?"

"Yes."

"Will you tell me why?"

"It wasn't as interesting as you might expect."

Harry sensed a reluctance, but surely, it couldn't be so bad. It's not like Harry would judge, even if Tom killed someone.

"Did you kill someone?"

"What do you think? Regardless, I've been able to see thestrals long before that."

"Is there a reason you don't want to tell me?"

Tom seemed to be contemplating something, and Harry was ready to drop it, when eventually the words appeared.

"What do you know of my past, Harry?"

"I know that you lived in a muggle orphanage."

There was a flash of annoyance slipping through a page.

"Nagini seems to forget all about keeping secrets when it comes to you."

"Not at all. There are secrets she refused to tell no matter how I asked."

"Good to know."

"She kept saying how it isn't her place to tell, and I must seek answers from you directly."

"Very well. Since you know as much, it makes it easier to explain. In the muggle orphanage people simply died all the time. Not everyone lived past five, sickness and hunger the usual offenders."

That… actually was more intimidating than Harry imagined. Having to live in such an environment, it was no wonder that Tom fixated so on immortality. Harry had experienced hunger himself and most likely he managed to survive only because the magic sustained him. For Tom, it was probably the same.


"Tom."

Harry wrote some days later.

"Yes, Harry?"

"Is it possible not to attend classes in Hogwarts?"

"Getting bored already?"

"As if. I'd rather listen to Professor Binns all day than endure another hour with Gilderoy Lockhart."

"What did he do?"

Harry listed all that happened in the very first class, the man turned out to be absolutely incompetent. Harry wouldn't claim to know much about Cornish Pixies himself, but he could at least guess they weren't meant to be released from cages before any proper direction was given on how to deal with them. Lockhart either expected too much from the second years or didn't know anything himself. Harry could easily bet on the latter.

Lockhart's idea of a test was quizzing on his own autobiography, which Harry randomly filled. Only girls seemed to be taking it seriously, including Hermione Granger. While she managed to gain the top marks, knowing every answer in this case didn't make her look the smartest.

Unfortunately, Lockhart couldn't just be ignored, as he latched onto Harry, finding a kindred spirit in him due to their fame and known status as heroes. Harry tried to ignore him anyway, which only earned him a detention. He was prepared for manual labour of some kind, but instead he was forced to sort through Lockhart's fan mail and train for giving out autographs. All too soon, Harry started to think a conversation with Dumbledore would be preferable to that.

"I'm still serving a detention at the moment. Making it look like I'm practising my signature. That man has such an enormous ego he doesn't notice much past it."

"Alas, you cannot miss classes without a good reason. Earning a detention is already reflecting badly on Slytherin."

"I'm tempted not to care very much about that. To be honest, I'm not sure education at Hogwarts fits me well at all."

This has been on Harry's mind a lot lately. While the first year went by easily enough, he still had some leftover concepts he struggled with in practice. His aptitude in Parselmagic allowed him to keep an image of acceptable competence. With second year, Defence Against the Dark Arts aside, the curriculum only grew more difficult and, ultimately, Harry found only Potions, Herbology, and Astronomy worthwhile his attention.

He explained his situation to Tom.

"You must understand yourself, Harry, what the easy answer to your problem would be."

Harry understood but the deeper he settled into an emotionless state, the more reluctant he became to return from it. Even his struggle with magic wasn't enough to convince him that he was in the wrong. Unlike Nagini, Tom didn't criticise him for his stubbornness.

"If that is what you must do, Harry… Emotions are a vital variable in most of the Magical Arts, but hardly the only way to apply your power."

"Do you know of other ways?"

"Perhaps. But that is not something you would find in the Hogwarts Library."

"Where would I find it?"

"You already found Parselmagic, have you not?"

With such an obvious avoidance to answer, Harry had a suspicion that it wasn't everything Tom could possibly tell him. But he could put it aside for now.


Severus Snape was on edge. Everyone just had to give him trouble, Dumbledore and the Dark Lord, and the Potter brat. They all only cared about their own little agenda, and Severus was caught right in the middle fighting for his dear life.

He was lucky enough to use Dumbledore's distracted state of mind so that the old man let it slip about hidden pathways to the last hurdle of the Stone. It was easy to convince him that someone had to protect Potter, if the need comes. With Dumbledore away, of course this responsibility would fall on Snape, so he had to know all the shortcuts. But since he knew all the shortcuts he was also putting himself in a suspicious position if the Stone were to be actually stolen. And it was. So who was there to clear all the loose ends no one put even one braincell about? Of course, it was Snape, who had to go through all the obstacles triggering the alarms in the Headmaster's office one by one because they had to be. Otherwise, how else the Stone would have been stolen? The path had to be cleared at least once, and it didn't really matter when, as long as it happened while Albus was still away.

The bloody mutt, the Devil's Snare, the damned Winged Keys. The Wizard's Chess, admittedly an impressive feat on Minerva's part, if only Snape wasn't so infuriated by this point. The stupid mountain troll, the clever Potion riddle, but of course, since it was his own doing. Wasted effort on bloody no one.

All throughout he practically saw a jolly little adventure it was all indented to be. Everything was orchestrated with an adequate first year in mind, only in the end there was no audience. Dumbledore really miscalculated this one big time. There were no adventures and no little Gryffindors to fill the playground. Instead, only a grumpy Severus Snape who tore through each obstacle with severe irritation. It was all too easy for him, and he finished promptly, only partially satisfied with having something to release his temper on.

The memory of Lily was still fresh before his eyes. He had to gather all his mental strength not to lose himself before the sight in the mirror, he wanted to gaze at it for days on end, but he couldn't. Of course, he couldn't. It wouldn't accomplish anything, and he had Harry Potter to think about how to protect. The brat dared to use him in such a way. He almost had a heart attack every time he had to interact with what he thought was the Dark Lord. Why would Potter align himself with the Dark Lord if it wasn't a case of possession after all?

At the same time Severus was relieved. The boy was still there, alive and unharmed. With questionable morals and life choices, but who was Snape to judge? If that allowed to at least stop this predicament where he had to balance between both sides, so be it. His Unbreakable Vow and loyalty to the Dark Lord were now aligned. His only hope was that the Dark Lord was truly willing to look past the need to kill Potter and was truly cooperating with him. A slim chance, but it still posed better chances for any of them to survive. Potter's insistence on helping the murderer of his parents was grating, but realistically it wasn't the worst position in terms of survival instinct.

Potter asked him to be seen as himself and fine, he could do that. There was still an uncanny resemblance to James Potter in that face of his. If James Potter were to crawl back from his grave Severus would be struggling with the urge to punch that face on sight. But James Potter was never a Slytherin nor was he this good at Potions. Maybe that was something Harry inherited from his mother… Or maybe Severus should really try and see the child as a separate being. He had to constantly remind himself that the boy had no influence from his parents while growing up. Despite that familiar face clouding Snape's mind with rage, he wasn't blind. Harry Potter acted nothing like James.

It helped in a way, but also didn't help at all, that this very same face now had Lily's green eyes. Only, if Severus dared to look long enough there wasn't any spark of the same kindness in them. People might still be fooled, but Harry Potter was far from a naive little orphan. To Severus' shame, his Dark Lord act was believable, and that had to come from somewhere.

Harry's magical prowess was also something the brat must have developed independently. He was the talk among other professors, naturally. Everyone wanted to talk about the famous Potter. Begrudgingly Snape had only positive things to say about him. Admittedly, bragging about his Slytherin students in front of Minerva came easily to him, no matter who said student was. While Potter was exceptional in Snape's classes, others expressed some concern over his progress. It seemed like he had more trouble than other students to master the spells. With his wand movements always impeccable, they expected Potter to show amazing results in no time, but it was almost like he was holding himself back.

"Maybe he is just that humble. It wouldn't do to climb atop too soon when he already has his fame to deal with." Pomona Sprout suggested, even though she herself could only praise Harry for his attentive attitude with the plants.

Snape wasn't convinced because nothing ever stopped Potter to show off his skills in Potions. But he didn't get a chance to closely look at how he was doing in other classes to really get the picture of what his colleagues were talking about. With how hectic the last weeks of the previous year were and annoyed at yet another thing he had to deal with, Snape didn't bother with the Defence Exams too much, only testing the students on theory, which was the focus of Quirrell's classes anyway. He wasn't about to sit through another individual evaluation of every student from all years, having had enough on his hands already. And when it came to theory Potter was as knowledgeable as anyone with the highest expectations would expect of him.

All in all, the stress of the past months was weighing Severus thin. Each day he expected to be summoned by the Dark Lord, but it was yet to happen. Blissfully Albus didn't need much assistance from him either, only occasionally inquiring about the Dark Mark. Severus could only admit to it getting more visible, although not as dark as it was in the Dark Lord's prime. Still, there was no hiding it, and the fact that Voldemort now had the Philosopher's Stone was glaringly obvious anyway.

Just barely, Snape managed to avoid suspicions himself, conjuring a tale of patrolling Slytherin dungeons at the time for any activity from Harry Potter, who happened to obediently stay in the dormitories. Dumbledore never expected Snape to stop the Dark Lord himself, placing all his hopes on the brat. It was only Dumbledore's own misfortune that Potter didn't take the bait and acted completely off script. The impending gravity of that realisation kept the old man wallowing in self reflection, and his trust in Snape persisted just so.

Apart from being on edge ever since the Dark Lord's parting words, Snape was content not having to deal with anything related to Harry Potter for as long as it lasted. To say that he wasn't looking forward to the start of the new term was an understatement. Dealing with all the incompetent brats was never his favourite part of the job.

He strolled through the classroom determined to remind everyone that Potions wasn't for mindless fools. There was already some commotion among the students, and his eyes, unsurprisingly, zeroed in on the object of his recent musings. Harry Potter was casually arranging his working station somewhere in between Slytherins and Gryffindors, so he could pair up with Neville Longbottom of all people. Snape's lips curled into a snarl, but it wasn't really something that he could forbid. If Potter was willing to put himself through that predicament so be it.

Gregory Goyle ended up pairing with Vincent Crabbe. If before this might have posed concern, now they were both at an adequate level to at least follow instructions. And it was better not to let either of them to stay on their own. Draco Malfoy stayed close to their bench, so he could keep an eye just in case, and he was more than capable to brew a potion by himself. Only the boy himself didn't seem too happy about it.

"I'm not going to do all the work by myself." he announced loud enough, so everyone heard him. "You." He suddenly pointed at Granger who was the only one in the class also left alone. Draco curtly motioned with his head signalling to join him.

Hermione Granger, that entitled know-it-all Gryffindor, startled like a deer caught in the headlights, some students snickered, while others shot Malfoy questioning glances. She didn't move, clearly convinced she was fine with doing all the work by herself. Draco frowned crossing his arms and tapping his foot impatiently. Granger remained stubbornly in place.

"Granger." Snape began to lose his patience. His class was supposed to be starting already, and he won't be having a scene first thing in the morning. "Stop making a fuss and partner up with Malfoy."

Granger became visibly furious, but she couldn't disobey a Professor. She held her head high as she gathered her things and approached Malfoy.

"At least you are decent in Potions." she muttered through her teeth and Malfoy scoffed.

Snape couldn't care less about their petty drama but if he knew Draco well enough the boy would rather co-work with an annoying muggleborn than touch a flobberworm.


Harry watched intently as Neville prepared the ingredients, one by one. What this boy needed was practice and lack of fear. He started with herbs, and while some of them were very delicate and difficult to handle, Neville got the natural talent for it. Sometimes though, he was too nervous.

"No, Neville, not now. You have to wait for four minutes before throwing that in."

"Neville, stop. That's a completely different type of root."

"Where did you even get this from? It wasn't on the list."

"Stir it gently. Not so fast."

"Not so slow."

He ignored the stares he got from other Gryffindors and Slytherins. Snape was looming nearby as if on a mission to further terrify Neville. But Harry didn't pay him any mind, he was watchful of every single step Neville took. It was no wonder Granger lost patience with him and outright forbade him from touching anything. Somehow, when the nerves got over him, Neville made the most unpredictable mistakes. But Harry wanted to let Neville do everything himself, only handling the instructions and preventing catastrophes. He knew that Neville wasn't a lost cause. And the resulting pale blue potion was a proof of that. It was acceptable.

"Acceptable." Snape admitted through pursed lips. "Five points to Slytherin."

Harry raised an eyebrow. Snape gritted his teeth, but he would have to be blind to deny that Neville had practically done all the work. "One point to Gryffindor for finally trying." he sneered.

Neville looked stunned and on the verge of tears. "I got… A point… from Professor Snape."

"You were robbed if you ask me. But yes, that's quite an achievement." He patted Neville on the shoulder.

After the class ended Harry regrouped with Slytherins on the way to the Great Hall.

"What was that about, Draco?" Pansy questioned, and Harry was curious too.

"You think I'd actually want to touch flobberworms?" Draco intoned as if it explained everything. To some extent it did, as Blaise nodded and Nott scrunched up his nose.

"Weakling." Pansy scoffed. Harry knew that she indeed had no qualms about any disgusting stuff they had to deal with in Potions. Harry himself was quite indifferent.

Draco didn't bite on the insult, instead he lowered his voice, "But also, you know how rumours are." He made a motion with his hands to imitate quotation marks, smirking. "Malfoys are being tolerant to mudbloods."

With the surge of attention on their family it could actually be helpful.

Pansy broke into the laugh while Zabini shook his head.

"In that case, you can start with using the term muggleborn first." Harry pointed out the obvious.

"Yeah, whatever." Draco waved a hand. "At least she's decent in Potions."


Harry had to admit, the classes started to wear him off. He couldn't shake the feeling that it was all a waste of time. As much as he tried to focus on the theory and as successful he was in practising Parselmagic, he knew he wouldn't be able to continue in such fashion forever. There were bound to be more complicated spells he'd be unable to reproduce in the future. So far he already managed to do so only after dedicating extra time and effort for this purpose. Now that he knew about the Room of Requirement he used it as his own fort to escape others' prying eyes, to read in silence and practice on his own.

Conversations with Tom also became more frequent. Having read most of the material ahead and with such pointless subjects as History of Magic and Defence Against the Dark Arts, Harry took liberty to write in the diary during the classes as well. After all, he was only writing. Tom also managed to figure out how to project the words for longer. He retained a perfect recollection not only of every text that was written on the pages, but also anything from his own memory. On Harry's insistence to avoid suspicion, he maintained something resembling lecture notes on the pages at all times when the diary was open during the day. Even when they didn't talk, Harry found reading those to be quite interesting too, noticing that not everything was just a copy from books, but offered unique insights as well. Tom really was an outstanding student.

The more they interacted, the more Tom became aware of his surroundings, being able to tell when the diary was open or if someone was nearby. Harry was the most obvious presence, since he kept the diary with him at all times. The urge to write in it was near constant, and even just awareness of its proximity provided Harry with mental ease. It was also the best way to assure the diary won't fall into anyone else's hands since only Harry could access the inner pocket in his school robe. Tom wasn't against the diary being dragged around everywhere. If anything, he encouraged it, describing his own predicament akin to being woken up from a deep slumber. Staying conscious now yet having no stimulation for his mind was almost a torture. The more he was able to concentrate on the things happening outside the diary the more he was able to distinguish between other people, and with time even their voices and movements.

Dumbledore didn't bother Harry as he did last year, seemingly treating him like any other student. Only catching his twinkling eyes whenever Harry talked to Neville or the Weasley twins clued Harry that he was still being watched. While Neville was still shy to openly approach him, the twins made a habit to occasionally sit with him at the Slytherin table, finding the act itself worthy of a good laugh. They enjoyed seeing perplexed expressions on Slytherins and Gryffindors alike, teasing Draco and laughing at how red-faced Ron became.

The Daily Prophet's new wave of hot topic suddenly revolved around You-Know-Who's possible return. Harry suspected it was Dumbledore's doing as a way of shining a new light on his name, trying to stir the public into believing in the unavoidable need for heroes. And sure enough, the articles then followed about Dumbledore's Order of Merlin and his heroic defeat of the previous Dark Lord Grindelwald. They highlighted how the deed was especially heroic, twisting the previous accounts on Dumbledore's past association with the very same Grindelwald into something admirable. That the eventual outcome was what mattered, that heroic actions shouldn't be forgotten and shunned away lest if the threat arises again who would be there to stand against it? The rumours about You-Know-Who weren't unfounded either. While Harry was aware that Snape had to disclose the state of his own Dark Mark to Dumbledore, the Daily Prophet wrote about the commotion among Azkaban prisoners. Apparently, the atmosphere in some cells now held a new sense of resolution and became almost cheerful if anything in Azkaban could ever come close to that.

These were all very far-fetched points and Harry doubted anyone would take it seriously, even though it was true. Snape also confirmed that Voldemort didn't summon him yet, so how close Voldemort was to returning was also a question. Yet, this still instigated a sour mood among the students.

"Don't you worry, everyone!" proclaimed Gilderoy Lockhart after one such gloomy article. "How lucky you all are that there is a hero already in your midst! If any threat arises I will personally deal with it!"

The Great Hall was divided, some sighed dreamily, reassured, others sighed in exasperation. Pansy Parkinson rolled her eyes and Harry was glad to know she wasn't one of those girls who have gone insane over Lockhart. In fact, he had yet to see anyone starstruck among Slytherins.

"How lucky that we have our own hero on our side as well!" Pansy grinned at him.

"Shut up." Harry shot back. He was also glad she started acting normal around him again. Tracey Davis laughed finding the whole situation funny.

Daphne Greengrass on the other hand looked serious, shooting him a calculating look. He noticed that Blaise Zabini was doing the same. Somehow everyone else caught on and in no time the atmosphere became charged with unsaid contemplation.

Unable to withstand it, Millicent Bulstrode quietly whispered. "You'll be on our side, though? If push comes to shove."

Harry looked over, the quiet that settled at the entire Slytherin table not escaping his attention.

"It depends which side are you on," He replied, this wasn't a place for talking about sides anyway. "If push… comes to shove," he inclined his head to the side, regarding the serious expressions of the elder Slytherins. "I believe, you'd hardly have a need for a hero in the first place." He looked straight at Daphne who still observed him critically.

Draco eyed them unsure, "That is neither here nor now. More importantly," he emphasized in a louder voice. "The try-outs for the Slytherin team are coming up next week."

As if on cue the tension dropped while excited chatter resumed.


The worrisome mood around Hogwarts didn't stop, the Daily Prophet feeding onto it with each article, providing speculation after speculation. Harry Potter was in the spotlight once more, now the papers turning on him, recycling the old story of him defeating You-Know-Who, but also renewing a debate on him being a Slytherin and now a ward of Malfoys to boot. They went in circles seemingly not able to fully lean on either side of the argument, with each issue only making those who read it more confused and more concerned. The fear of Voldemort returning was always there, while openly no one admitted to taking it seriously, the more something was repeated the more thought people gave it.

Lockhart boasted even more so, promising to save everyone, and somehow the idea of a Duelling Club was born.

"What better way to deal with fear than to train how to defend yourself? I myself had to deal with numerous threats and I wouldn't be here now if I wasn't always coming on top as a winner. While you can read all about my brave encounters in my books, the Duelling practice will be of great benefit to all of you!"

Despite Lockhart majorly losing his charm with most of the Hogwarts students, a Duelling Club sounded very appealing to them. The Gryffindors never passed a chance to challenge themselves with the extra Defence, probably hoping the Club will prove to be more useful than the actual classes. The Ravenclaws never passed a chance to learn extra material, even though the one proposing it was the same Professor who didn't know how to teach. The Hufflepuffs were the most apprehensive about any possible threats and hoped to gain more confidence in their own skills if they were to duel. The Slytherins were averse to being left out, and the possibility to show off at actual duels was also intriguing to most.

Harry was dragged by Lockhart himself, as a fellow hero. The first formal duel among Professors ended up as a farce, with Snape easily disarming Lockhart with such force that if not for a clear Expelliarmus shouted, the exchange could be mistaken for a much severe attack.

Lockhart, ever to make a fool of himself, brushed it off as if he simply allowed it to happen for demonstration. He quickly shifted to eager students who wished to participate in the duels themselves. This was taken with enthusiasm only to be stopped by Snape after it turned into pure chaos. Snape, along with Professor Flitwick, suggested teaching them at least a handful of useful spells and proper blocks. Harry observed with interest, just as everyone else, who seemed to gain a newfound respect for Severus Snape.

"All right, all right. I think we all got the idea." Gilderoy Lockhart brought all the attention back to himself. "Now, how about a proper demonstration from the students this time." He looked around as if he wasn't looking for a specific person from the start. "Ah, Harry Potter! I'm sure you'd be a perfect example, everyone wishes to see their heroes in action!"

Everyone around whispered in excitement, evidently proving Lockhart's words true, wishing to see him duel. Harry had his own doubts, suddenly very aware of all the eyes trained on him. He caught a particularly invested gaze from Professor Snape.

Ron Weasley volunteered as his opponent.

"You better show him, Potter!" Draco cheered him on with glee along with the other second year Slytherins.

The Gryffindors edged Weasley in the same manner, all waiting to see the great show.

Harry remained calm as he faced Ron and reluctantly bowed.

He didn't really have anything against Ron Weasley, not sharing any malice the boy expressed towards Harry.

The thing was, Defence Against the Dark Arts wasn't his strong suit. He knew all the charms and spells, his wand movements were perfect, he knew incantations, and on the surface he could imitate everything with ease. Only, last year Quirrell lectured them strictly on theory and this year Lockhart lectured on the topic of himself, there was no need for practical application so far. Other subjects like Charms and Transfiguration took Harry's attention enough for practising with Parselmagic that he barely touched upon anything else. Mastering the spells took time, and he couldn't just come up with something on the go, even if he concentrated enough. All the shouting and whispering around didn't exactly help. Harry knew he was lacking, and it will be showing.

Ron threw Expelliarmus first, Harry dodged it, thinking intensely what he could do.

He dodged the next spell as well, distantly aware of Lockhart's inane praises of his quick reflexes. The cheers around were mixed, supporters of Ron or Harry all having their own competition in volume.

While regrouping from the floor Harry picked a stray hair, lowly hissing at it to transform into a snake, and pointedly throwing it Ron's way, mimicking Serpensortia. While the spell was supposed to conjure a snake from the tip of a wand, Harry at this point couldn't yet use Parselmagic with thin air. A couple of screams followed, but the snake didn't turn out all that big or scary and with the hints from elder Gryffindors Ron was able to cast the Snake-Vanishing spell.

It wouldn't have worked, so Harry summoned it back himself dissipating it on the fly and rearranging into his next attack. The bits of a snake burst into flames as Harry shouted Incendio with the matching wand movements. Ron Weasley had to cast a block to avoid the burns.

Harry was too preoccupied with actually producing convincing spells that he didn't really care about the state of his opponent. Losing against Ron wasn't an option, but at the same time it wasn't at the top of Harry's concern.

Ron attempted Stupefy, which turned out somewhat weak and Harry dodged it with ease. He had to think of something else, and fast.

Suddenly there was an unknown feeling tugging at his wand. An extremely unfamiliar sensation washed over him, and he shuddered as if doused in cold water. At the same time it was familiar, reminding him of Tom, and it also felt like something he could use. Following his intuition Harry allowed it to go through, motioning the wand and shouting out a Stupefy.

A powerful red beam shot through his wand, Harry himself glided back several steps from the sheer force, it was so uncontrollable. Ron put up a shield in time, but it wasn't enough to stop the spell. It broke through, knocking Ron square in the chest and sending him flying all the way into the wall.

The hall fell silent. Harry breathed shakily not quite understanding what just happened.

"He's fine!" Someone exclaimed after rushing to Ron's side. A small group gathered around the boy, all worried. "He's just unconscious. And some broken bones."

The crowd observed Harry with wide eyes.

"Let me see!" Lockhart rushed towards Ron as well. "I will help." He pointed a wand at the boy and immediately someone groaned.

"I think you just made it worse, sir."

Harry's head buzzed, still under the after-effects of the spell. He collected his features and straightened up ignoring the stares. Snape announced the end of the meeting dismissing everyone.

Not listening to what Draco or Pansy had to say Harry went out of the Great Hall with determination. Once in the Room of Requirement where no one were to bother him, he opened the diary.

"What was that?" he wrote, shuddering again as he recalled the strange feeling, something that was certainly not his. The absolute strength of it that overcame him still residing at the tips of his fingers.

"Just me testing a theory." Tom replied nonchalantly. "Which was proven right, by the way. That's a great development, don't you think, Harry?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Not even a thank you?" Tom wasn't keen on explaining right away, providing another riddle instead. "Now Harry, it is time I let you in on a little secret."


This is in no way little, Harry thought as he regarded an enormous Basilisk, its full size not quite comprehensible since it was still in the process of emerging from the Statue of Slytherin. The deadly eyes of the Basilisk were closed, just as Harry requested, so he could safely observe the breathtaking sight of this giant serpent before him, its scales reflecting a dim green light of the Chamber of Secrets.

The existence of such a secret chamber was already quite impressive in itself. While Harry made a frequent use of the Room of Requirement for a more secluded and comfortable surroundings, this Chamber suggested quite a different prospect. It was the Slytherin legacy, something only a Parselmouth would be able to open. Not to mention the Basilisk, the King of Serpents, a deadly snake that could kill with its gaze alone, and even Harry wasn't completely sure it would actually listen to him.

"I must express my gratitude to the King of Serpents for allowing me to witness its magnificent sight." he tried carefully, not assuming that Basilisk simply obeyed.

"You might not be so powerful as to overthrow my will, but I am not about to let the Speaker needlessly die." So he wasn't on par with Basilisk after all, but the serpent's attitude was reassuring. Harry watched in awe, the long and thick body towering over him, coiled around the vast room, which only highlighted its magnificence.

"You are stronger than me." Harry voiced his conclusion.

"Or we are equally matched at the very least." the Basilisk drew closer to Harry, considering. "If we were to fight, you might have as much chance to win as I do."

"Fascinating, how clearly you can sense it. But I will not fight you, I have no reason to."

Harry wasn't intimidated by the proximity of the Basilisk, taking this as a chance to look at it closely, intrigued by the details of the scales forming into an interesting pattern. He wanted to touch the skin, but the serpent retreated just as Harry was about to lift a hand.

"And that is why we are having a pleasant conversation instead of anything else." The Basilisk seemed to be equally reassured that Harry wasn't a threat. "It is always a delight to have a chance to speak with someone. You Speakers are so rare these aeons."

"I know of only one another from my lifetime, you must have met him before."

"Could you be referring to Tom?"

"Yes. You knew him?"

"Indeed. One of my favourite humans. Yes…" the Basilisk shifted with more vigour than before. "I can remember as clear as it was yesterday."

Harry couldn't help but ask curiously, "How powerful did you sense him to be?"

"I could not disobey him." The serpent admitted, and Harry wasn't entirely surprised to hear it. If Tom was so powerful when he was still in Hogwarts, in his early years compared to the ancient Basilisk, thinking about what power he might possess now, left Harry dazed. "I do wonder where he is now. One day he just stopped visiting me so suddenly."

Harry didn't really know how to answer that question, he didn't know where Voldemort was, and even if he knew, he wasn't sure how to explain everything. Harry had the diary, but it was even more complicated to explain, he doubted even he truly understood the full extent of what Tom was.

"I am right here." He heard a voice behind him.

Turning around, Harry saw… there was no mistaking it.

"Tom? How…"

Harry could still sense his presence from the diary, but it also now extended to the form of a boy in front of him. He was taller than Harry, with a wave of black hair framing his handsome face. The dark eyes observed Harry with equally matched interest, and then Tom smiled with smug confidence.

"I helped myself to some of your life force in exchange for emotions I lent you."

Right, because that's what the odd feeling was, the one Harry experienced during the duel. It was nothing like the hints of mood Harry could catch occasionally from the diary, this time it was intentional, making the emotions palpable from inside out. Harry was still uncomfortable about the whole thing, the way he couldn't even control the force of his power shook him the most. Tom claimed that the end result was all Harry's doing, while emotions only allowed for the spell to work. Harry would have to learn how to adjust the strength of his spells, assuming he would ever agree to go through that wrenching experience again.

Another detail about borrowing the life force was no less disturbing.

"Do not tell me you couldn't have done this all along, Tom. Why now?"

"I could, couldn't I?" Tom narrowed his eyes in consideration. He stepped closer to Harry, and now he noticed that Tom wasn't completely corporeal, his visage almost transparent, the edges of his shape not quite sharp.

"Right now it was only fair, Harry. But taking any of your life force at all isn't something for me to be careless about."

"Why not?" If that is what enabled Tom to take shape and get free from the diary, it would be only logical and all too easy to take from Harry since he barely even noticed anything. In itself it was extremely alarming.

"Aren't you forgetting anything, Harry?" Tom shook his head looking Harry over with a strange expression. "I'm not about to risk Nagini's life by accidentally killing you."

"Not that I'm complaining…" Involuntarily, Harry took half a step back. "But can a memory be held accountable?"

Tom shrugged, looking away. "Who knows."

Harry considered Tom's profile silently, taking in his features. He was talking to him for several months now, each day and with each conversation thinking of him more and more as someone real. Whatever magic was contained in the diary allowed Tom not only to store the memories, but also think and have a conscience of his own. Now more than ever, Tom looked like a real person.

"We are here for a purpose," Tom reminded him, cutting short any further talk on the subject. He turned his attention to the Basilisk. "Good to see you again, Ananta."

"Likewise, Tom. Although, I cannot see you."

"I am not sorry about that."

"Is Nagini not with you?"

"Not at the moment, no."

Harry's interest grew. "You knew Nagini?" he asked.

Ananta inclined his head in confirmation. "She was a good conversationalist too. Nothing else to expect from Tom's Familiar."

Harry couldn't agree more.

"It is always a pleasure to talk, Ananta. But right now I need you to take us to the Slytherin's Study." Tom said in a commanding voice.

The Basilisk made an incomprehensible hissing sound.

"Straight to the point as ever." He slithered closer to both Harry and Tom, but made no other move to obey, sensing out their presence. "But not as strong as to command me anymore. How curious."

Tom scowled, the information was clearly not pleasing to him. Ananta let out a hiss that sounded like something Harry could interpret as a laugh, and then lowered his body for the easier access so Harry and Tom could climb onto it. "But I will heed your request. Not that I have anything else to do."


The journey through the depths of the Chamber of Secrets on a giant Basilisk wasn't something that Harry could have ever imagined doing. But somehow it became normal to him in a span of a week. He visited this place every evening, sometimes staying all night. With the help of the Invisibility Cloak it wasn't any trouble and his fellow Slytherins stopped questioning where he went long ago, used to him sneaking out of the dorms.

Slytherin's Study was another hidden room within the Chamber that contained mostly books and notes, and was pretty much just a cluster of bits and pieces of knowledge from different periods of time. Nothing could be taken away from the room, so it was no wonder the place looked more like things were only ever added to it, creating a unique environment of a messy storage of information. Luckily, the rule only applied to the items that were to be left on purpose, with clear intention in mind and a little spell, so no accidental personal belongings were mixed in. Harry himself could enter and leave with all his things intact, but it also meant he had to go down here every time to explore. Reading just one single book could take more effort and time than usual, not to mention some texts were either ancient or written by hand on a yellowed parchment, making it hard to read even more so.

Harry had only several weeks left before the winter break, but he also didn't have to read everything for now. While he was immensely curious about all sorts of things, even those texts that looked more like personal journals than anything educational, Harry's focus was held by only one book.

Path to Death.

"Naturally, I read all the books here." Tom said while searching through a pile of books that very first day they came here. His fingers sometimes slipped through the tomes and pages, but then he frowned and concentrated until his fingers were capable of touch again. He still became more transparent with each passing minute, and eventually he only floated nearby instructing Harry to find a particular book.

"I didn't quite pay attention to where I put it, but it should be somewhere here. I admit, I only skimmed through it once, since it clearly wasn't of any use to me."

"You clearly would rather avoid death than go towards it."

"Certainly. But even after understanding what it actually was about, while fascinating, to even attempt a step on that path requires a very narrow dedication, a sacrifice if you will. Wasn't worth it."

Harry placed a thick tome on carnivorous plants that looked interesting enough into a separate pile and paused to look questioningly at Tom.

"For you though." Tom continued unfazed. "It is the most useful book you will ever find here. Because by my observations, you are already on the way there, if only unknowingly so."

"And the sacrifice?" Harry was already starting to get the idea of what it might be.

"The entirety of any other magic that feeds on emotions." Tom confirmed his suspicions and Harry felt like at this moment something finally clicked. He didn't even know what he'll find yet, what any of it truly meant. But it never felt wrong to abandon emotions even when he knew he couldn't do magic like everyone else.

"It never felt like a sacrifice." he voiced what was on his mind.

Tom regarded him, curious. "All the more reason to believe that Necromancy is ideal for you."

"Necromancy?" Harry had a vague idea of this particular branch of magic, but it was barely ever mentioned anywhere.

"You must have noticed that there weren't any known Necromancers for centuries. Mistakenly, it is assumed for a forbidden and forgotten Dark Art. More likely there were simply not many wizards who would choose to devote themselves in such a way."

"And in the end it still became forgotten." And maybe also forbidden. Harry returned his attention to the pile of books now with more determination.

It didn't take long before Harry finally found an unassuming book with black leather-bound cover. Nothing was on the front, and it didn't look like a manufactured edition. Inside, on the first page there was a handwritten text.

Eustace C. Peverell
Path to Death

"I will leave you to it then." Tom's voice broke through the haze that suddenly overcame Harry's mind. Tom was barely visible now and soon completely dissipated. Harry touched the diary to make sure it was still there even though he still felt its presence.

Just to be sure and because there was something he was yet to tell, he cracked it open to write a short, "Thank you, Tom."

There was a lot more he would want to talk about later and many questions to ask, but it could wait.

Detach thyself from realm of the living,
by means of emotions it fuelled,
thus forsaken they ought to become
for a path towards death to reside on.