A Deal with The Devil
The silence in the chamber stretched, broken only by the soft, distant drip of water. The Basilisk, sensing the shift in tension, coiled its massive body tighter around Harry, almost protectively. Tom Riddle—no longer just a memory in a diary, but a living force in the room—studied Harry with an intensity that seemed to pierce through him.
“You want a deal, Potter,” Tom said, his voice smooth but laced with curiosity. “But you know the stakes. I’m offering you power, control, freedom—everything you could ever desire. All you have to do is help me.”
Harry stood unmoving, his expression unreadable. His eyes met Tom’s for a long moment before he spoke.
“You’re not whole, Riddle,” Harry said, his voice detached. “You’re a memory—a part of you, yes, but not the real you. Not the you who’s out there, somewhere, still alive and still planning.” He gestured vaguely around the chamber. “This version of you... it’s a shadow. You need more. Two Muggles, at least, to fully return. You’re a fragment, a hollow thing. That’s the only way you’ll become more than this.”
Tom froze. The words hung in the air like a weight. For a moment, it seemed as though he hadn’t fully understood what Harry had said. Then, his expression flickered with something that looked suspiciously like fear—or at least, the recognition of a truth he had not wanted to confront.
“ A Fragment?” Tom repeated, his voice almost strangled. “Where did you learn about that?” His voice was commanding, and his eyes had a tiny bit of red in them.
Harry shrugged. “It’s just an observation. You’ve been living in that diary for fifty years. Without a full body, without a soul—just part of you clinging to the memory. I’ve read books. The soul is tied to a body, right? You can’t just take someone’s life force and expect to become whole again. Especially not with a teenager’s life.” Harry let the words settle between them, his tone as cold and casual as ever. “You need two Muggles, to make sure you can get your body back, don’t you?”
Tom’s face twisted as he processed the information, his eyes narrowing as he regarded Harry with a mixture of awe and suspicion. “You... You understand more than you should,” he said slowly, his voice almost dangerous.
Harry didn’t flinch. “I’ve had time to think while I was at home,” he replied, his voice calm. “Besides, it’s a simple matter of logic. But don’t worry. I’m not leaving you to rot here. You can stay with me and my guardian for the time being.”
Tom blinked, and for a moment, Harry could almost hear the gears turning in his head, piecing together the subtle clues Harry had dropped. “Your... guardian?”
Harry didn’t flinch, his voice neutral. “My guardian has their ways. You don’t need to worry about that.” He turned, glancing down at Ginny’s still form, ensuring she was safe for now. “For now, you can stay with us. But if you’re going to work with me, we need a cover story. Dumbledore’s not a fool. He’ll figure out what’s going on soon enough. We need something... convincing.”
Tom’s lips curled into a twisted smile. “You’re suggesting we deceive Dumbledore. A formidable opponent, but one who can be manipulated, if you’re clever enough. I do like your thinking, Potter.”
Harry’s gaze never wavered from Tom. “Exactly. You might be powerful, but Dumbledore’s always watching. We need to keep him off the trail, keep everything quiet while you get stronger. You won’t be able to return to the world as you were, not yet. But if we do this right...”
Harry didn’t finish the thought. The sound of Tom’s cold laughter filled the chamber.
“Very well,” Tom said, his smile widening, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “You’ll have your way—for now. But make no mistake, Potter. This is only the beginning. I will not be anyone’s second choice for long.”
Harry’s lips twitched, a brief, almost imperceptible smile crossing his face. “I never expected you to be. But we’re not in a rush. You’ll get what you want eventually.” He glanced over his shoulder at Ginny, who was still unconscious, her breathing shallow but steady. “We need a story about her, don’t we? Some convenient little tale to explain what happened here. How about this: Ginny Weasley was a victim of the Heir of Slytherin. You can even take credit for that, if you like.”
Tom’s eyes gleamed, his expression becoming even more predatory. “I like the sound of that.” He walked closer to Harry, his voice dropping low. “And you, Potter... you’ll be my ally in this, won’t you? After all, you’ve already seen what I can offer.”
Harry met his gaze without a flicker of emotion. “I’ll help you, for now. But remember, Tom—this is a temporary arrangement. I have my own plans.”
Tom paused, his expression momentarily darkening. “I know. But don’t forget, Harry. You and I, we’re not so different. We both want power. We both want control.”
Harry’s lips parted slightly, but he didn’t respond right away. Instead, he gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. “We’ll see.”
And as the Basilisk wound itself around Harry once more, the faint echo of a deal sealed in the air, Harry couldn’t help but feel a small sense of satisfaction. There were dangers ahead, but the game had only just begun.