Tom was bored.
Although that truly wasn't anything new, bored was his constant these days even if he wasn't aware of what 'these days' actually referred to. The last time his counterpart had spoken to him was when they had left Hogwarts. That was the last time anything had changed and Merlin knew how long ago that was. Time moved differently in the diary. He was trapped in his own memories, endlessly wandering the halls of Hogwarts, doomed to monotony and his own thoughts. Nothing ever changed.
He had to wonder if his counterpart knew of the life he had condemned him too. Would he still go through with it? Still make a horcrux when he knew what awaited his soul? An endless sepia coloured hell that he would never be able to escape from?
Tom knew the answer was probably yes and he ignored how much that hurt him.
He often wondered, for that was all he could do here, if he was an anomaly amongst Horcruxes. In all the texts he had previously read none spoke of Horcruxes being sentient. Maybe Tom had done this to himself, by creating himself with a purpose, by his counterpart interacting with them.
Sometimes Tom wished he didn't exist at all.
Was it really death if you were only a part of a whole?
Everything about him was now Voldemort. Not even his death would solely be his own.
These thoughts rattled round and round his head as he was left to rot in his own despair. Abandoned in his own memories, abandoned even by his own self.
~
I've never kept a diary before but I'm starting Hogwarts soon and it would be nice to have somewhere to put all my thoughts
This, this was new.
Tom didn't know what had happened, didn't know how this had occurred but he did know he was now in someone else's possession. A young doddering twit of a girl about to start her first year at Hogwarts. A girl who had no qualms about writing in a diary that wrote back.
Ginny, poor blessed Ginny, spoke to him every day. It was a bother sitting through all her mindless drivel but then again it was at least new mindless drivel. And it was drivel he sat through with a purpose. The more little Ginny poured her soul into him the more soul he could pour back into her.
Oh this really was going to be fun.
Dear Tom, I think I'm ill, I'm so tired
Dear Tom, I can't remember what I did yesterday, I'm worried
Dear Tom, Hagrid's roosters were killed last night and I woke up with feathers in my bed I'm scared
And it was all going so well until little Ginny stopped speaking to him. It was the most infuriating feeling he knew, not knowing anything. Had she realised? Had he been discovered? Had he once again been abandoned and would he not be found again for another fifty years?
He had once again been condemned to the limbo of his own making?
These questions continued to rattle around his mind until his solitude had been interrupted
You may call me Astrid
It would have been a convincing lie if Tom hadn't been able to retain his legilimens abilities but as it were he could almost taste the lie on his tongue. People only lied when they had something to hide and Tom was instantly curious over what this girl could be hiding.
I gave you my real name, isn't it only fair for you to return the favour?
The girl wrote back quickly, not a pureblood if she had any knowledge of the muggle world and Tom mulled her words over in his head. What would you do with my soul Riddle?
What would he do with a soul, with her soul? The temptation to gain a body of his own was too much of an opportunity to pass up on, especially a soul as tempting as hers, brimming with power. It would be easy to convince her, Tom thought. He had accomplished a lot harder things for far more petty reasons than befriending a teenage witch in hopes of gaining a body. At least, he thought it would have been easy until he encountered rather formidable occlumency barriers. A darkness that could swallow him whole, everything that he was devoured into nothing.
It reminded him of death.
Nice try Riddle but you're not getting into my head
And didn't that just make things interesting.
Tom was tired of boredom. At least the Little Star was interesting.
Okay Riddle, you're on.
(What would you do with my soul Riddle?)
Tom couldn't wait to find out.
~
The girl was interesting. Far more interesting than Tom would have thought she could be. Only a second year and already the queen of Slytherin and he couldn't help but regard her with just a bit of respect after she had admitted that.
It was easy, striking up a quick friendship with the Little Star and Tom would have scoffed at how naïve she was if he didn't know any better. But he noticed how she never mentioned any names, kept most personal details a secret, never once let down her occlumency barriers around him.
She was careful, oh so careful but Tom always loved a challenge.
And as it seemed so did she if her stories were anything to go off. A slytherin just like him, a half blood just like him, ruthless just like him, an orphan just like him. She seemed to like him better when he wasn't acting, like she could see through his pleasant façade at all times and preferred the violence he kept underneath. It was almost refreshing in a way.
She certainly made a better conversation partner than that Weasley brat.
~
When did the war end?
He didn't know why the question slipped out so suddenly but he couldn't risk not asking. It was one of the questions that had plagued him constantly over the decades. How long was he condemned to those summers at the orphanage? How many more times did he have to spend cold dark nights trembling in fear in an air raid shelter? How many times had he heard the sirens sound his next brush with death?
1945 she had told him. She had spent the rest of the night talking about more cheerful things like how her court had childishly vandalised their defence teacher's self-portraits much to her delight. Their teacher, the peacock as she called him, had almost cried at the sight of his own face adorned with a moustache and monocle. It was an obvious topic change, a pitiful attempt at comfort.
He ignored the way it made him feel better anyway.
~
I could show you?
Tom didn't know why he had said it.
The Little Star spoke to him every day, or so it seemed and Tom found himself warming up to the girl. She and he were quite alike in many ways and she had a dry acerbic wit that kept him on his toes. She was easy to open up to and Tom could admit he was beginning to enjoy her company. Although he didn't like dwelling on that for long. Attachments made you weak after all, it didn't matter if she was interesting. She didn't matter other than a means to an end.
He ignored how those words rang false. He ignored quite a lot of things these days.
~
He didn't know how long had passed but he knew it had certainly been a few days since she had last spoken to him. He didn't know why the Little Star had gone, didn't know what he had done to scare her off so badly but he did know he didn't want to be trapped inside this diary any longer.
He had once thought summers at the orphanage were bad but here, trapped inside his memories, doomed to wander a castle that was only a testament to his loneliness, he had never felt worse.
Until his Little Star came back with news that the dark lord Voldemort, news that he himself had been defeated. Had never achieved their plans. Had instead turned to fire and bloodshed that even he could not see the reason of and had gotten himself defeated.
He then felt even worse.
How had he gone so astray? Tom knew they were powerful, knew he was better than the others, had power over others. So what had happened?
Getting himself a body was now paramount.
Lord Voldemort would not know defeat.
Not if he could help it
~
A deal is a deal
Tom felt excitement leap at him at his little star's words. He knew she would have never been able to discover what he was. With the way the world had changed since he had been condemned to this existence he knew the books on soul magic had probably been burnt by now. It had just been a matter of patience, a waiting game.
50 years trapped in a book had gone far to teach him the art of patience.
My name is Eliza Potter
Eliza, a sacrifice to God. How fitting.
He didn't focus on the small pang he felt over the thought of hurting Eliza.
It didn't matter, it was just sad to see such potential wasted. That was all.
(Tom had always been a brilliant liar, even if it meant lying to himself)
~
And then suddenly he wasn't talking to Eliza Potter but to Pansy Parkinson. She's a hateful, spiteful little girl, vapid and vain full of insults against his little star but she is also full of information. And a new soul, which meant he wouldn't have to sacrifice Eliza. It doesn't matter he tells himself, he doesn't care that much. But the news that Eliza had been lying to him, the news that Eliza was in actuality the vanquisher of the dark lord, defeated him, hurt him more than he liked to admit.
He kept talking to Pansy and ignored the fact he'd much prefer to be talking to someone else.
~
Master Jormugand hisses when he appears in the chamber you have a new body
"I'm sorry I was a way for so long Precious" Tom hisses back rubbing the basilisks snout and doesn't focus on the fact that his hands aren't really his and how his mouth (Pansy Parkinson's mouth) contorts oddly over the usually familiar sibilant language.
"I was found by another little speaker, it took me a while to come back"
A little speaker? Jormugand hissed nudging Tom softly in a way that still almost sends him tumbling to the floor have you finally found a mate master, it's about time.
Tom doesn't blush at that but he does quickly correct Jormugand before the basilisk decides to keep using that particular phrasing.
"Eliza is not my mate precious, she is simply a... friend"
You have never had friends before master Jormugand hissed and began to coil itself around Tom in a protective embrace. The thought of being trapped in a basilisks coils would usually be terrifying but for Tom he couldn't think of anywhere safer. There was a special kind of kindred that could be found between monsters.
"She's different" he hissed back and began telling Jormugand about his plan to become fully corporeal and the months he had spent with his little star, a small smile on his lips.
~
The Parkinson girl was lying on the floor, Tom didn't exactly have an altar at hand but her sacrifice was appreciated none the less. Slowly, so very slowly, as Parkinson weakened Tom grew stronger. After fifty years he was finally able to stand in his own body, he didn't have his own wand so he had taken the girls instead. She wouldn't be needing it much longer after all. His plan was going perfectly, he would leave Parkinson's body in the chamber and sneak out of Hogwarts and join his counterpart. He would help him regain a body and they would continue their plans. Eliza had said Voldemort had gone insane but how could he believe her? He knew himself better than she did and he knew he would never succumb to such a fate.
But then Jormugand tells him someone has broken into the chamber, the chamber that needs a parselmouth to open. It can only be one person who has come here to stop him.
Eliza instantly ran over to the Parkinson girl, breathing a small sigh of relief when she felt a pulse although Tom can tell that she won't be alive for long.
"I'm sorry Little Star but I'm afraid she won't be waking"
Eliza instantly moved to face him, levelling her wand at him and Tom had never realised how small she was before. Of course he had never actually seen her at all before now but her magic made her seem larger than life. It crackled angrily and as she stood in front of him, black curly hair and vibrant near acidic green eyes she seemed more a force of nature than a girl. The moment before a thunder storm, the eye of a hurricane.
She wasn't surprised when he revealed his connection to the Dark Lord but Tom really shouldn't have underestimated her, should have known she would leave no stone unturned in her search for knowledge.
"Boys don't become Gods Riddle" she said quietly from the other side of the chamber, all sharp lines and coiled tension "men only become monsters"
He felt himself reel back at that, her hostile gaze and acidic words cutting into him more than he thought they could.
In that moment Eliza Potter didn't seem human at all, she looked at him with eyes that could devour him and in that tiny moment he felt true fear. He would bet that if she were to be cut now she would bleed gold ichor instead of red blood.
"I'm so close to having a body back. I've been trapped for fifty years, I thought you would understand" he said and ignored the fact that if she were anyone else she would already be lying dead on the floor.
"Hogwarts is my home and you would have it close and condemn me to a life in that filthy muggle orphanage" Eliza spoke strongly "I thought you would understand that"
"I don't want to fight you Little Star" Tom said in lieu of a real response, ignoring the way her words had tugged on something inside him. Ignoring the way that almost sounded like that was a plea instead of a threat. He enjoyed Eliza, she was interesting and powerful but she was still a threat.
And the most important thing in life would always be himself. Not even she had enough power to change that but she stalked towards him like she did.
"Let me help you Tom"
Let me help you Tom
Had anyone ever said that before? Anyone ever looked at him as earnestly as she did? Anyone ever said his name in a way that made something inside of him break?
"And what do you suggest?" he said calmly absently twirling the wand between his lithe fingers focusing on her instead of the turmoil rattling his brain.
She explained her plan to him, makes her propositions, deals with him in a way only a true Slytherin could and Tom found himself inexplicably drawn closer and closer to her.
"I want an unbreakable vow" Eliza said "We both vow that we will never intentionally, of our own accord, kill or indirectly kill one another by our own hands or by other means"
Tom immediately wanted to protest. Inside he knows he is just a creature of war and violence, it goes against his nature to agree to this offer of peace.
But if what Parkinson had said was true than this girl has the power to destroy him, has done before now again and again. Cunning and ambition are always traits Slytherin values, that he values, but self-preservation is just as important.
He agrees.
"We can't just imperio people Riddle" Eliza snapped at him when he suggested placing Parkinson under the imperius and he has to muffle a snort. He's never been on the receiving end of her hostility before and its remarkably entertaining.
He gripped Eliza's arm with his own after placing the imperio and smiled when he felt how fast her pulse was thrumming beneath his fingers.
Parkinson began intoning the words of the vow.
"Do you, Eliza Lily Potter vow to never kill either directly or indirectly Tom Marvolo Riddle under you own volition?"
"I do" she said staring straight at him with those poisonous green eyes. They remind him of the killing curse.
"Do you Tom Marvolo Riddle vow to never kill either directly or indirectly Eliza Lily Potter under your own volition"
"I do" he said back and smiled when she shuffled nervously under his stare.
"And do you Eliza Lily Potter vow to acquire a soul for Tom Marvolo Riddle as payment for releasing Pansy Parkinson by the end of this summer"
"I do"
With the final vow spoken Tom felt the weight of the vow settle against his spirit, a physical reminder of the bond.
It is in these small moments, Tom thought to himself, that destiny can be changed.
He watched her curiously as she darted about the chamber, watched her still wary expression melt into one of exasperation as she questioned what he actually was and he can't stop the laugh that escaped him at that question. The irony of her asking what he was. He had felt the truth hit him the second the bond had settled into his bones, the recognition washing over him after he had slowly taken his hand away from hers.
The unmistakable feeling of coming home. Of one piece of a soul finally meeting with another.
Eliza Potter, his little star, was one of his horcruxes.
And she had no idea.
Millions of questions ran around his head as he watched her transfigure the diary. When had this happened? He assumed his counterpart didn't know if he was as insane as Eliza believed him to be. He truly must be far gone if he couldn't recognise a piece of his own soul. And what effect would a horcrux have on a living thing? How had it affected Eliza's development?
But all those questions would have to wait, he would ponder them when he was forced to return to the diary, when he had the luxury of time and didn't have pressing matters like faking his own pseudo death to deal with. He called out for Jormugand and watched as Eliza's face turned into one of unmistakable curiosity and glee as she spoke to the ancient basilisk.
"Another speaker" it said delightfully raising its head "is this the little speaker you were telling me of master?"
Tom hurriedly interrupted that line of questioning before Jormugand could embarrass him further and begin talking about building his own nest with Eliza or whatever other infernal conversation the basilisk decided to strike up.
After the fake diary had been dealt with Tom strode back over to the real one. Although he detested the idea of entrapping himself again he can admit that Eliza's plan was the better alternative. It also helped to know that soon he would be free.
It had been a long time coming.
"Wait" she shouted "How am I supposed to get out?"
Tom grinned at her from the other side of the chamber not being able to resist having one more joke at her expense.
"I'm sure you'll figure it out Little Star" he quipped before disappearing all together.
After all he had just been given quite a lot to think about.