———
Tom, I can't remember what I was doing before dinner. I remember leaving class on time, and saying goodbye to Ron and Hermione, but then it's a blank. What should I do?
———
I'm scared, Tom. This morning, I woke up covered in blood. I don't know whose blood it is, or if it's human, but it scares me. I'm trying to convince myself it's paint.
———
What's happening to me? Everyone used to say I was the Heir, but ever since Hermione… nobody thinks that anymore. But I can't find alibis to assure myself anymore. Why is this happening?
———
I think… I think I'm the one hurting people, Tom. Or at least… being controlled to do it. Maybe possession? The gaps in my memory, the headaches, the insomnia, it points to possession. I'm… I'm really scared.
———
Tom, I know you said to stop asking, but please tell me about the Chamber of Secrets. I know Hagrid is innocent, and I know you know the truth. You were there 50 years ago. You remember! Please…
———
I think I'm losing my mind.
———
Harry stirred, his breathing stuttering and uneven as he tried to open his eyes. They felt heavy, thick from too much sleep, and he would've panicked if he could've felt anything beyond exhaustion. Instead, Harry was simply resigned that he'd undoubtedly missed several classes. It sucked, especially since Ron should've woken him up, but it's not like anything could really be done about it.
"You're… alive." A voice said, making Harry put more effort into opening his eyes. Fighting the heaviness that encompassed his entire body, his eyelashes fluttered as he forced his eyes open.
Harry was not in his dorm room, he was looking up at a ceiling. Or… what he assumed was a ceiling. It was high and stone, seemingly carved perfectly to meld with the walls and pillars below. The ceiling was so far away, and it was dimly lit, but Harry couldn't see any lights.
"You really shouldn't be alive, you know." The voice called helpfully. Harry then tried to shift, turning himself over so he could push himself to a sitting position. It half worked, one of his arms buckling underneath him, and Harry ended up leaning on his elbows while still lying down partially. Looking towards the voice, he noticed a boy leaning against the nearest pillar, staring at Harry with blatant curiosity.
"I think you mean I just suck at dying." Harry croaked, throat dry. The boy tilted his head, but Harry just looked around. "What… what happened? Where are we?"
He examined the room as carefully as he could. It was a wide space, and had pillars spiraling upwards with snakes carved in and around them. It glowed a faint green, though Harry still couldn't find a light source. Harry looked around and saw he was lying at the bottom of a strange statue. Its gray stone feet were a few yards away, and the statue rose up to the ceiling. Harry looked back at the boy by the pillar and blinked in surprise. Harry recognized him… from the diary.
"Tom… Tom Riddle?" Harry squinted suspiciously at the boy, "Are you a ghost?" Tom seemed solid, but magic could do crazy stuff.
"A memory." He answered, eyes searching Harry's face as he spoke. "Preserved in the diary for fifty years." Tom pointed to the side, and Harry turned to the little diary he'd been carrying around for months laying a few feet away.
"You're… you're the Heir of Slytherin." Harry realized, eyes widening. "The one from fifty years ago, it was you. Wasn't it?" Harry looked around again, examining the snakes and the statue and he gaped at his surroundings. "This is the Chamber of Secrets."
"Yes, Harry." Tom confirmed softly. "You opened the Chamber of Secrets." Harry snapped his eyes to the boy immediately. "Not at first, but you happened upon me. The very person I was so anxious to meet…"
"You wanted to meet me?" Harry frowned, "Why?"
"Someone else had the diary before you. Ginny Weasley talked all about you and your fascinating history, until she tried to dispose of the diary." His eyes glued themselves to Harry's scar as he continued, "I knew I had to find out more about you, talk to you, meet you if I could."
"Why didn't you just kill more people fifty years ago?" Harry interrupted, blinking as he realized Tom had only killed one person. "You were real then, instead of a memory." Tom frowned at the change in topic, but he answered anyway.
"The Transfiguration teacher, Dumbledore, didn't seem to like me as much as my other teachers. He seemed to have guessed I was the one responsible, and I knew it wouldn't be safe to open the Chamber again while I was still at school." Tom explained a little flippantly. "I decided to leave behind the diary, preserving my sixteen-year-old self in its pages, so that one day I would be able to lead another in my footsteps; to finish Salazar Slytherin's noble work."
"What about now?" Harry asked expectantly, making Tom's smirk fade into confusion. "You said that's what you did fifty years ago. You haven't… I haven't killed anyone. Did your goals change?"
"For many months my goal has been you." Tom admitted. "But you found me. I wanted to ask you so many questions, but the satisfaction of slowly killing you as you wrote in my pages was undeniable." He smiled, and Harry scrunched his nose in confusion.
"What are your questions?" Harry prompted, surprising Tom once again. "I didn't die, so…" Tom smiled again.
"Well, how is it that you managed to defeat the greatest wizard of all time? How did you escape with nothing but a scar, when Lord Voldemort's powers were utterly destroyed?" Harry blinked at the odd red gleam in Tom's eyes. "How did you survive? Tell me everything."
"I don't know." Harry said quietly, honestly. "Nobody knows why Voldemort lost his powers that night. Nobody knows why I survived. But… you said I should be dead right now too, right? Maybe I really am just bad at dying, like I said." Tom studied him, pushing off the pillar and walking closer, before he smiled again.
"There is a strange likeness between us, Harry Potter." He said, "Both half bloods, orphans, raised by Muggles. Probably the only two Parselmouths to come to Hogwarts since the great Slytherin himself. We even look something alike." It was sort of true. They both had black hair and straight noses, though Tom's hair was neat and brushed while Harry's was a messy pile, and Harry's nose held crooked and taped up glasses that Riddle didn't need.
"Are you mad that I didn't die?" Harry asked confusedly. Tom crouched to be closer to Harry's eye level, examining Harry's face seriously.
"No. It makes no difference." Tom smiled. "In fact, I prefer it this way. Just you and me, Harry Potter… you and me."
"Okay, well, what now?" Harry pushed himself further so he was no longer leaning on his elbows. His head spun a little as he sat up fully, but he managed. "How did I even get down here?"
"I made you write your own farewell on the wall and had you walk down here yourself." Tom said simply, watching Harry blink in surprise once again.
"Why would you write a farewell? It seems like inviting someone to come looking for me." He stated, tilting his head in confusion.
"Because we're the only ones who could ever come to this place, unless I'm possessing someone through the diary. The Chamber only opens to Parseltongue." Tom smiled again. "I'm tempted to let the Basilisk loose some more, terrorize the school until it closes."
"Why don't you?" Harry asked, making Tom freeze. "It wouldn't be hard. It'd be easier now, since you don't need to use me at all." He then reached forward carefully and poked Tom's shoulder. "Yeah. You're solid. How'd that happen anyway?"
"That's an interesting question, and quite a long story." Tom said simply. "I suppose it starts with Ginny Weasley. She wrote in the diary for months, telling me all of woes and worries. How her brothers tease her, and her second hand robes, and her ridiculous crush on the great Harry Potter." His name being brought up made Harry frown in confusion, but he listened attentively. "But I was patient, I was kind, I was sympathetic. Ginny simply adored talking to me, calling me a friend she carried around in her pocket. I've always been able to charm the people I needed, so Ginny poured her soul into the diary, into me. I grew stronger on the diet of her deepest fears and deepest secrets, and I grew more powerful. Powerful enough to start pouring a little bit of my soul back into her."
"And you possessed her?" Harry checked. "To open the Chamber."
"I did. All the way back at the beginning of the school year. She was the first to open the Chamber since I myself was a student here." Tom smiled darkly. "Of course, she didn't know what she was doing. It was very amusing. It took a very long time for her to stop trusting my diary, finally becoming suspicious as her memories fell through and she woke up covered in blood, much like you did. She disposed of the diary, and who should find it, but you?"
"So you possessed me too." Harry nodded, frowning. "You said you wanted to ask me questions, but it was satisfying to kill me. Because of my history? Because I survived and Voldemort didn't all those years ago?" He looked at Tom, confused and frowning. "Why?"
"Voldemort is my past, present, and future, Harry Potter." Tom murmured. He produced Harry's wand from a pocket, and traced his name in the air in shimmering, pretty letters.
Tom Marvolo Riddle
Harry watched as they rearranged themselves with a wave of his wand in Tom's hand, and his eyes widened at the new words.
I Am Lord Voldemort
"You see?" Tom whispered, staring at the words. "It was a name I was already using at Hogwarts, with my most intimate of friends only, of course. You think I was going to use my filthy muggle father's name forever? With the blood of Salazar Slytherin himself running through my veins, from my mother's side? Keep the name of a foul, common Muggle, who abandoned me before I was even born, just because he found out his wife was a witch? No, Harry. I fashioned myself a new name, a name I knew wizards everywhere would one day fear to speak when I became the greatest sorcerer in the world!" Tom was grinning triumphantly as he finished.
"Well, you definitely succeeded in the fear part." Harry said, nodding. "Everyone calls Voldemort You-Know-Who, which is very confusing when you don't actually know, for the record." Harry added, and Tom gave him an odd look.
"You're not angry." He said, voice curious. "You're not angry that I'm Lord Voldemort."
"You're only sort of Voldemort." Harry clarified, "Also… I don't know why I'm not mad. I just feel sort of content, as a baseline." Tom studied him carefully, and smiled.
"So you wouldn't mind if I set the Basilisk on the inhabitants of the castle?" The boy raised an eyebrow. "You asked why I hadn't, does that mean you don't care?" Harry paused to think, but eventually shrugged.
"Not really. I just feel sort of… detached." He then frowned, tapping his chin in thought. "Could you even kill the people who were petrified? They're frozen, but their eyes should be open. Does it matter if they can actively see the Basilisk or is the eye contact more important?"
"I… actually haven't thought about that before." Tom admitted thoughtfully.
"You could also wait a few hours." Harry suggested helpfully. "Then the Mandrake Draught will be finished and everyone will be unpetrified. It wouldn't really matter then."
"I wonder if the diary broke something inside you." Tom said, once again closely examining Harry's face. "Would you be opposed to joining me? The person who murdered your parents?"
"I guess I wouldn't mind." Harry shrugged, "Are you going to kill me?" He tilted his head at Tom curiously, who just stared back at him and into Harry's green eyes.
"No… I think having Harry Potter side with Lord Voldemort will be much more satisfying." Tom grinned, and it wasn't soft anymore. Harry passively noticed it was a little menacing.
"Alright. How do you plan on leaving?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow. "Unless the Basilisk kills everyone in the castle, it's unlikely you'll be able to leave if the way out leads up there."
"You're ridiculously calm about murdering hundreds of people." Tom stated sounding oddly amused. "I think I'm going to like having you with me. Alright, Harry Potter, let's release a Basilisk then, shall we?"