At first, Harry had been unsettled , even frightened , by Tom Riddle sharing a name with Voldemort.
It was too strange, too coincidental, too heavy with history.
But over time, he'd come to understand. A name was just that , a name. It didn't define the person who bore it.
Besides… if it hadn't been for Tom last year, he'd be dead.
Quirrell and Voldemort would have killed him without hesitation. Tom had saved his life.
So now, when Harry saw him, there was no fear. Just that familiar, cautious trust.
…
"That's good," Tom said, smiling faintly. "I was worried you might be too… sensitive for what I'm about to tell you."
"I can handle it," Harry said , and then blinked, frowning. "Wait, what do you mean, too sensitive?"
Tom tilted his head thoughtfully. "Give me a moment to put it into words…"
He pretended to think, though his mind was already several steps ahead.
"Let's start," he said finally, "with your scar."
Harry's expression flickered.
"The pain," Tom continued softly. "You already know it's connected to Voldemort, don't you?"
Harry nodded slowly, the memory flashing behind his eyes. "Yeah… when I touched Quirrell last year, it felt like my head was going to split open. I always thought that was because Voldemort was… well, in him."
He hesitated, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "Tom, I'll tell you a secret , I think Voldemort might've been the one who opened the Chamber of Secrets fifty years ago."
Tom smiled. "Then I'll tell you a secret too. Fifty years later, it's still Voldemort who opens it."
Harry froze. "What, what do you mean? He's here? In Hogwarts?!"
Tom shook his head, and from his robes, he drew out the diary. "Not quite. He's not here physically. This," he said, holding it up, "is a relic of his school days , his own notebook. Everything that's happened lately… came from this book."
Harry's eyes widened in shock. "So he's been controlling people through it… manipulating them?"
"Exactly."
The pieces fell into place for Harry all at once , and his stomach dropped. He remembered Ginny, her pale face, her trembling hands. The way she'd been acting strange lately…
"Oh no…" His breath caught. "He used the person holding the diary. He, he controlled, "
Harry stopped, staring at Tom in growing horror.
Tom smiled , wide, too wide.
A heartbeat later, silence swallowed the corridor.
Harry floated motionless in midair, body rigid, expression frozen in shock.
Tom dusted off his hands casually and continued walking, Harry's petrified body drifting behind him like a puppet on invisible strings.
"Don't look at me like that," Tom muttered, his tone conversational. "It's nothing personal. The identity of the one who opened the Chamber involves… privacy, let's say. But don't worry , it wasn't me."
The petrified boy said nothing, of course.
"And before you panic, I'm not working for Voldemort either," Tom went on smoothly. "We merely have a… transaction. And you, my dear Harry, are part of the deal. Relax , I promise, with me around, you won't die."
If Harry could have moved, he would have screamed.
With you here, I'm already doomed!
The corridors were silent except for Tom's footsteps echoing softly against the stone.
When he passed the entrance to the girls' lavatory, Harry's heart sank.
Not here… not the bathroom… he's going to kill me in the girls' loo?
Even in despair, a part of him thought bitterly , Voldemort, you've got no shame.
…
Tom stopped at the circular sinks, eyes tracing the intricate carvings. His fingers brushed a single brass tap marked with a tiny serpent.
He took a slow breath and hissed a phrase , long, curling, filled with syllables no human throat was made to shape.
The serpent emblem glowed white-hot.
Then the sink began to move.
The tiles trembled, grinding apart as the entire structure rotated. Beneath it, a vast pipe opened with a deep, wet groan.
Tom turned, grabbed Harry by the collar, and unceremoniously dropped him into the darkness.
Then he jumped in after him.
…
The descent was fast, cold, and slippery. They landed hard in a vast stone tunnel littered with the bones of small animals. Something massive , a shed snakeskin, easily twenty feet long , glistened faintly in the gloom.
Tom murmured a charm under his breath, his eyes flashing blue. The protective runes shimmered briefly around his body , a safeguard against the Basilisk's deadly gaze.
He gave Harry the same enchantment, purely out of practicality. "Can't have you dying yet," he said lightly.
The tunnel ended at a wall engraved with two serpents, their bodies intertwined, emerald eyes gleaming faintly in the darkness.
Tom stepped forward and hissed, "Open."
The serpents slithered apart, and the wall split down the middle, parting like a stone curtain.
They entered the Chamber of Secrets.
The room was vast, stretching beyond sight, lined with towering stone pillars coiled by giant snakes. Their eyes seemed to follow every movement. The air was thick with age , ancient magic humming in the walls.
At the far end stood a statue so immense it seemed to touch the ceiling , the wizened, cruel face of Salazar Slytherin himself, with a beard like coarse roots and a mouth that seemed carved for hissing.
Even through Tom's hardened composure, a faint note of distaste crept into his voice. "Slytherin really spared no effort, did he?"
In the psychic space of his mind, Grindelwald gave a low whistle.
"Well," the old wizard mused, "at least he had taste. Overbuilt, perhaps , but taste."
Andros snorted. "Taste? This is excessive. You could fit an entire cathedral down here. He could've expanded the Great Hall instead!"
"Perhaps he didn't like people," Grindelwald offered dryly.
Their banter echoed faintly in Tom's head. He sighed and, remembering his human companion, waved his wand to release the petrification.
Harry collapsed to the floor with a groan , but years of Quidditch training kicked in fast. He snatched his wand from his pocket and shouted, "Expelliarmus!"
The red bolt of light shot straight at Tom , and vanished before it even reached him.
Not deflected. Not dodged. Simply gone.
Tom didn't even blink.
"Really?" he said, sounding almost disappointed. "You didn't listen to a word I said earlier, did you?"
He sighed again, almost fatherly. "That kind of spell wouldn't scratch me. Now be a good boy, Harry, and just… stand there. You'll understand soon."
Harry's knuckles whitened around his wand. "You, you're not possessed by him?"
Tom smiled faintly, and for a moment, something warm flickered in his expression , something Harry couldn't quite read.
"No, Harry. I'm not possessed. I'm far more dangerous than that."
He knelt, setting the diary on the ground. Beside it, a crystal vial filled with dragon's blood glimmered softly.
Tom uncorked it, pouring the liquid in a thin, steady stream. It flowed like liquid silver, seeping into the diary's pages , which drank it hungrily, the parchment darkening, writhing, alive.
A low hum filled the chamber, deep and resonant.
The air shimmered green, light curling upward like smoke , gathering, thickening ,
Until it began to take shape.
A human shape.