The corridor wasn’t very well lit. Tom frowned. He was used to badly lit areas of the castle, but not up here. He looked at his little watch on his wrist, “5,” he murmured. Everyone would be down at dinner. At least he hoped. He pulled the sleeve back down. “It’s winter. But surely there must be candles.” He glanced down the corridor. There were candles. Maybe there needed to be more. He shook his head, “Fussing over an illogical subject. What is wrong with you?”

Tom pushed open the door. It was rather heavy and a tad old. Like most of the castle. The room he entered wasn’t very well lit either. “Must’ve run out of candles,” he shrugged. He took in a deep breath. It was musty. But in that old book kind of way. He liked to come here. It was quiet and nobody thought him weird. Well no more than the Ravenclaws that were always surrounded by books. He had come about one subject. He wanted to find who he was. Apart from being Thomas Marvolo Riddle of course.

Tom didn’t know where to look. There was old families, but he had been brought up in a muggle orphanage. So he can’t be one of the old families. He must’ve had a magical parent. To be at this place, at least. He had heard from the Matron at the orphanage that he was named Tom, after his father and Marvolo after his grandfather. Maybe there was a Marvolo around. But he didn’t know the last name.

He headed to the front desk, “Erm hello. I was wondering where I might find a book, that might have the name Marvolo in it. As a first name.” The lady behind the desk looked up at him, “You might want to try the Daily Prophet archives. There was an article about a Marvolo Gaunt about 20 years ago.” Tom frowned, “Gaunt you say. Where might I find out about him?” “Try the article, Mr Riddle,” she said, more forcefully.

Tom headed towards where the articles were kept. He found the correct volume. Flicking through them he finally found it. “Gaunt imprisoned. Son attacks muggles.” He continued to read through the article. This Marvolo was pretty impressive. Well in Tom’s books anyway. His son, Morphin, had attacked a muggle, Tom Riddle. That was his name. He frowned. “My father is a muggle?” he whispered, “Not only that, but I am related to these Gaunts.” They could talk to snakes. So could he. He must be related. He knew who he was. Well not completely, but it was a start. There had to be something better in his past. He couldn’t be a half blood. They were horrible. Tom Riddle Sr, was a filthy little muggle. And Tom M Riddle was a Slytherin.

Tom Riddle absolutely hated History of Magic. He found it to be a very boring subject and was forced to be in the library researching on this dreaded topic. As he was flipping through one of the librarys very large books, he came across something that cought his attention. It was one word, and all it was, was Horcrux. Since the book did not tell much on this particulary subject, Tom knew it must be something dark and powerful. His intrest grew more and more with every thought at to what this horcrux was. Tom noticed the librarys population was quickly dwindiling. It was getting late and the students were all heading up to the common rooms. Soon he was left alone in the dark lit library with the librarian. Young madam Pince. Tom knew he was a charming boy, he always was. But he also knew that you had to get special permission to use the restricted section, and since a Horcrux was no where eles in the library, there was only place left to look. Tom slowly stood up and streched his legs, thinking of a story for madam Pince as to why he wanted to look in the restricted section. As he strolled to where the librarian was sitting he looked once more around the room. As Tom approached the desk, Madam Pince lifted her eyes to meet his gaze. "Ah. Mr. Riddle, what can I do for you tonight? The library will be closing soon you know." Tom smiled his charming smile and said, "Hello Madam Pince, how are you tonight? Yes, I am researching for a History of Magic paper, and I can't seem to find anything on this one particular subject." He smiled at her just incase she wasn't buying it. But she was. "Really Tom? And what subject might that be?" Tom quickly panicked, he hadn't thought of an answer, and although the inside of him was panicing, he did not show it on the outside. The first thing that popped up in his mind was, "Polyjuice potion. Some famous wizards have used it and I need background information on it. The thing is, there aren't any books with polyjuice potion in it. Im guessing they would all be in the restricted section." Madam Pince stared curiosly at the young boy for some time before deciding to help him. "Well, if you promise to bring the book back within a week, take good care of it, and ONLY use it for your research, I guess I could let you in the restcited section." Tom smiled broadly showing all of his perfect white teeth. I promise. He said. And he did, to all of them but the third condition. "Well then, heres the key, Hurry up though, I would like to get to bed." Once again, Tom smiled. He egarly took the key from Madam Pince and quickly walked to the restricted section. "Fool." He said under his breath. Grinning with self confidence he opened to door to the restricted section and quickly searched for some sort of book with Horcrux in it. After about ten minutes of quick searching, he found the word Horcurx in the index of one of the books. Luckily for him there was a whole chapter on the simple word. He quickly put the book into his rucksack and walked out of the restricted section. Putting the old key in the lock, he locked up the section and retured to Madam Pince. But before he did so, he transformed the cover of the book so it looked like another book he had come across. He walked back over to the young Librarian and smiled. "Got the book son?" She asked him. "yes mam." He said happily. Tom knew this was to good to be true, and just as he thought that she said, "Let me see wich one you got." He grinned and pulled out the book. He held it in the air for her to see, hoping she wouldn't want to see it. She looked at it for just a second before turning stern, "Don't forget, only for the report, back in a week, and it must be in good condition." Tom grinned and said, "You can count on me mam." Madam pince's face relaxed and she smiled. She patted Tom's arm and said, "Run along, its getting late." Tom left the Library with an evil grin. He had fooled the libraian. He felt like he could do anything. Walking to the Slytherin common room, he sliped the book in his rucksack, and promised he would look at it tommorw. First, he needed a good night sleep.

Life at Hogwarts for Tom Riddle had just picked up since the first few weeks he had been sorted in the noble house of Slytherin. Homework started to pill up and for Tom, who had never got any real homework to do in the orphanage, that wasn’t an exceptional thing, especially that many of his teachers have seen already in him true talent. He couldn’t let that go away, after eleven years of not even being noticed. Dumbledore was correct about many things. He was starting to feel as if Hogwarts was truly his home to be, he had many friends now and just the idea of going back to that old crumply muggles orphanage.

Tom had now been sitting in the library for hours. He had managed to finish half of his homework, although he had to resort to cheating, sometimes stealing someone’s homework when they weren’t looking, getting all the information and correcting some himself and then returning it, other time he just manipulated some Ravenclaw student to finish one or two of his essays while he enjoyed some other more advanced magical books, and other times, when professors or prefect where around him, he would content to find the information he needed in his books and finish his homework by himself. The pile of homework left was now reduced to half when Tom noticed that it was getting to late and many of the students had starting leaving the library heading back to their cozy dormitories. He found it started to get more difficult to cheat his way through as the students numbers started to decrease with every passing minute.

Hours later, Tom looked at the remaining amount of homework he had to finish. The once large pile that completely masked him, like a moon would do to the sun on the day of an eclipse, had diminished to two or three books. The Defense Against the Dark Arts essay was turning to be more difficult and to the unfortunate eleven year old, he was the last one in the library. There were no longer any students he could steal or manipulate to finish his work for him and the only source of information he had on the table turned to be useless. He took a look at the clock and noticed that he had a couple more hours before he should return to the common room, not that he cared to follow the rules but it was his bed that he missed and the mess he could leave in the common room that was appealing to him. He got up and walked to the nearest bookshelf that held the name:

Dark Against the Dark Arts

He searched among those books for any book that would give him the information that he was searching for. But after going through most of them, he returned the last book that turned much less useful then his original book, and looked around him. And his eyes laid on something that fascinated him since his arrival to the school, The Restricted area!
The Restricted Area was a part of the library that contained a lot of volumes on dark magic, dark creatures, dangerous potions and a lot of information that he would find more useful than how to levitate an object or repel a fire crab or brew a simple and minor antidote, the area was also known to be only accessible by seventh year students who were into going into the magical law enforcement or that needed these information for there final year exams and by professors and the headmaster.
Would it be possible to force the doors open? Tom asked himself as he walked towards the door and withdrew his wand from his interior pocket. At the height of the doors, Tom pointed his wand at the door and muttered “Alohomora!” the door locks shacked a bit before returning to their normal state of inviting tranquility. Breaking in won’t be that easy, he thought as he looked at the door locks again trying to plan a way to get past them. I wonder?, he asked himself as he gazed deeply into the locks and tried to manipulate them. The locks suddenly opened free and the doors where pushed inward revealing a dark passage to the young first year.

Tom quickly moved into the forbidden area and started to look through the many volumes with dark names, some which left chills running through the body of the young Slytherin. He then stopped; he had found something that caught his eyes. Something he was fascinated about, dark secrets and that book was all he wanted, the Secrets of the Darkest Art!
The book cover itself was dark enough to tell anyone not to mess around with its secrets. The boy looked into it deeply; his eyes searching each corner of the cover, his hand slowly patted it as he slid his index on the books cover characters. He stopped all of a sudden, looked around him, noted that no one was around him and he quickly opened the book.
The instance the book was opened on one of its pages; a deadly scream rose and resonated in the library, Tom quickly changed the pages going from one to another trying at best not to land on a screaming page or a page that would summon a strong wind.
After going chaotically through the pages, his eyes fell on something a topic that seemed to be interesting enough, something that sounded to him very important Horcrux! and he started to read!

The musky smell of century old books filled Tom Riddle’s senses as he poured over their pages, letting each new fact sink into the fathoms of his mind. The familiar sensations of eagerness and desire of knowledge took hold, pulling Tom under in ecstasy. Knowledge alone was Tom Riddle’s dearest friend. And he would use it to his advantage.

With every page turn he unearthed a new secret. Power radiated from these pages. And one day he would write the history of these books anew. Every law in magic he would bend, every record he would break, every legend he would watch crumble.

Deep, in his gut, Tom knew he was meant for glory. He knew, just knew, he was special.

He was special when he was stuck in that dingy, mad orphanage with those deficient Muggles and he was special now in this castle of magic, his true home.

Tom knew he needed to only find the source of his uniqueness and everything else would be set in motion. He knew something lay for him in the legendary secret chamber he hunted for in these ancient texts. It all must mean something. His future waited for him, he just needed to discover where. This tiny, seemingly insignificant detail of its whereabouts was the only puzzle standing in his way. Wizarding blood soared through his veins, singing to him, the heir, to return to the chamber.

He’d given up hope on his father being a Wizard in his first year. It was a lost cause. There was no trace of magical history pertaining to the name of Tom Riddle.

It was his mother who carried on the prestigious line of Salazar Slytherin.

Tom ground his teeth together at the thought, the blood in his veins pounding in anger.

His weak, dead, mother.

He felt the anger pulsing, his vision became red around the edges. He wanted to curse something, defile anything, to rid himself of this anger, to show that he was not weak.

Tom shook his beautiful head in an effort to clear the anger. He must not loose himself in front of the librarian and the countless students around him. Though he was a greatly admired student, he could not afford to blacken his record with a library disturbance in his fifth year.

He returned to the tattered book before him.

Silent moments past in diligent reading and memorizing, he studied every sentence to ensure he knew it’s every meaning.

A giggle flittered through the book shelf to the right of Tom Riddle’s shoulder. A flustered whisper followed, obviously trying to reprimand the annoying giggle. Tom tried to ignore the annoying girls. But, infuriatingly enough, the giggling continued. He lifted his regal head and his dark eyes scrutinized the giggling bookshelf.

“Oh, be quiet Kitty!” A girl whispered pleadingly. Tom turned back to his book, a small smug smile playing on his thin bloodless lips.

“I just can’t believe I caught you staring at Tom Riddle, again.” The giggler staged whispered, “You’re unscrupulous.”

“I was not staring at Tom Riddle,” the other girl replied in a terrified whisper. “I was actually using the library and searching for a book. Not that you would ever think of doing that.”

“Very good cover up, because it isn’t as if I did not see you staring through the cracks anyway. Looking for a book indeed…” The voice of the giggler Kitty faded away as she moved further down the library. Tom’s impeccable hearing picked up a few random giggles as she roamed the library.

He rolled his eyes, annoying creature. Kitty Flint’s only saving grace was her pure blood status everything else about her was rather vexing.

Tom saw a figure appear to his right, standing close to the book shelves presumably searching for a book. He looked over at the figure and saw Cassie Black, a Slytherin sixth year, looking resolutely at the books. Tom could tell she was trying not to look at him, causing him to smile with cold humor. Glorious…the power of attraction.

Cassie Black moved closer to the table Tom was sitting at, her head jerking in his direction every time he turned a page. Finally when she was almost behind him he turned to look at her, appraising her sleek black hair and her piercing gray eyes that stood out against her icy pale skin. “Good evening, Cassie,” Tom said in a silky voice, one he knew well and used frequently to his advantage. “What brings you to the library on a Friday night?”

“I’m looking for a book.” She turned to look back at him, smiling widely, “Why else would I be in a library?” She lifted her eyebrow haughtily.

“Join me,” Tom commanded lightly, extending his long pale fingers in the direction of the chair opposite of him. Cassie did not hesitate, her actions bending to his will.

“What brings you to the library, Riddle?” Cassie asked, gazing at his handsome face in fascination.

“My usual studying, like I’ve told you before Cassie,” he reminded her gently of the other times she just so happened to stumble upon him in the library.

“Yes, I remember,” She leaned in toward him unconsciously, “You’re tracing the history of Slytherin house. That reminds me, I have wanted to tell you something I found the other day.”

“Yes?” he eagerly prompted. The desire to know took over, his long fingers clenched into fists, his nails biting into his palms.

“I was in the girl’s bathroom the other day, you know, the one up on the second floor? Well I was in rather a rush because I was almost late for Transfiguration and when I was washing my hands my book bag got tousled somehow…” Tom’s patience was close to the limit. What on earth did a bathroom have to do with anything? “…ink was all over the place, the floor, the sink, and me. While I was siphoning it up, I came to the sink beside the one I was using. No one ever used this one, because it has never worked. Just goes to show how down hill this school is going in some places.” She winked at him, hardly noticing the way his lips tightened around his smile when she insulted Hogwarts. “And well I was cleaning off that sink, the one that doesn’t work, and I came to the copper tap and I found this small snake scratched on the side of the tap. It’s very very small. The only reason I caught sight of it was because I was bending close to whip up the ink my wand missed.

“I thought it was interesting that there would be a snake scratched into the side of the tap like that. It looked a lot like the snake that is carved above the fireplace back in the common room…. I thought you would find that interesting…” Cassie Black’s voice faded off as she watched Tom’s angelically handsome face contort with thought, a small trace of eagerness lit his dark eyes.

“It’s very interesting,” Tom replied silkily, “On the other hand, it’s probably nothing more than vandalism.”

Cassie’s face went blank as she nodded her head, “You’re probably right,” Tom’s cold, self-praising, smile widened when she stood from her chair. Good, he was ready for her to leave. “I’ll see you around, Riddle.” She stumbled absentmindedly away through the library, only glancing back at him three times.

Tom knew he had the amazing ability for people to tell him everything they knew. He could wheedle information from someone without ever going to the trouble of actually trying. He only need sit there, say a smooth persuasive word in a tender voice, flash his attractive face in their direction, and information spewed from their mouths. The sense of control zinged in the very marrow of his bones as countless memories of the people he was able to use for his will budded in his mind.

Tom Riddle waited for the library to dwindle to desertion and the librarian to half-heartedly push him out of the library doors. The large corridors were silent and empty. It was exactly what Tom Riddle was waiting for as he made his way to the second floor girl’s bathroom.

Tom sat back in the hard wooden chair and rubbed his eyes, glancing at his watch as he did so. Only then did he notice how dark it had gotten outside, how late it already was. He groaned, thinking of all the lessons he would have to endure the following day, not to mention his Prefect duties, on barely any sleep at all. This wasn’t the first time he’d stay up half the night in the library to complete each and every assignment for the top grade; Tom was a perfectionist through and through.

I hope Pince has left already, the last thing I need is a detention on my plate, he thought grumpily, moving as quietly as he could to peek out from between the bookshelves in case the librarian had still not left. He was alone in the huge, book-filled chamber, however, and he sighed with relief as he returned to his half-finished essay.

“Stupid Binns, setting so much work at once,” Tom muttered rebelliously under his breath.

The last thing he felt like doing at that moment was working on his essay. All his instincts were telling him to forget about it and go down to the dungeons to get a good night’s sleep – or, well, as good a night’s sleep as he could get if he went to bed at two o’clock in the morning. His pride and need to prove himself, however, would not allow him to give up so easily, and so the fifth year sank back down into the uncomfortable chair, tried to ignore the pain in his lower back and began to sift through the ancient tomes once more.

The war of the Goblins began to extend to other races as well, so that the elves and dwarfs had started choosing their sides. Fearing for the safety of the entire Wizarding Community, the Ministry of Magic decided that action must be undertaken to ensure the Goblin affairs would in no way interfere with the lives of humans. Once the Goblin Warlord Edgar the Enormous unwittingly caused a car accident on the outskirts of London, it was decided that matters must be dealt with immediately.

The four founders of Hogwarts, the best known and most powerful wizards and witches of the time, were called for to settle the issues with and between the two Goblin parties. There were suspicions that the few bloodthirsty wizards who had joined in the fighting had created Horcruxes to aid them in the war, which was a string of battles which seemed to have the potential to continue on for centuries…

Tom stopped reading, his mouth forming the foreign word as he wondered what on Earth it could mean.

“Horcux…” he whispered aloud, a hint of a smirk playing around his mouth as he relished the mysterious ring the syllables formed.

He checked the glossary, but there was no mention of any Horcruxes. He frowned, a heavy suspicion forming in his mind about the secrecy surrounding the word.

Suddenly inspired, he looked around himself once more before rising form his chair and creeping silently to the Restricted Section of the library. He was determined to discover more about these Horcruxes if he could.

Considering there was only a mere mention of them in the tome he’d been browsing through, and they had been written about in the context of war, Tom supposed the Horcruxes were beyond any ordinary magic taught at Hogwarts. His gut feeling was telling him he’d just stumbled on some invaluable information about the Dark Arts, black magic which fascinated him so, information which would help him fulfill his aspirations to become the greatest wizard ever known. The word’s absence in the glossary only strengthened this assumption.

However much he searched, though, he could not find a mention of any Horcruxes. He finally had the possibility of exploring so many various dark spells and potions, yet none of them seemed even remotely interesting to him as he searched specifically for the Horcruxes. He barely realized that four o’clock in the morning had passed, and then five...

At five thirty, Tom sucked in his breath loudly, his tired eyes widening as he greedily studied the letters in his hands.

…some of the darkest and most controversial acts of magic known to wizards, the product of which is called a Horcrux. The creation of such an object requires strength and determination, combined with the correct incantation and an object to serve as a vessel, a protector, if you like. Surviving such a complicated process, and the division itself, is extremely difficult. Those who choose to undergo the process are not among the iwtches or wizards down the street, and…

There was nothing more down the page that interested Tom. He read the passage a few more times, attempting to commit it to memory. His mind raced as he tried to understand exactly what a Horcrux was.

“I knew it,” he whispered to himself, however, a victorious smirk colouring his features. “I knew it was something powerful and dark, oh, so dark…”

A sudden clattering near the library’s entrance brought him back to reality without warning, causing him to snap the book shut and stuff it hastily back on a shelf. It would be of no use any longer to the ambitious young wizard anyway, so he had no need to try to sneak it out of the library. Gathering his things as swiftly and quietly as he could, he began sneaking towards the exit, thinking he had just enough time for a shower and a quick breakfast… and a chance to visit Slughorn before lessons began to find out more. If not, he’d corner the teacher after his own lesson with him that afternoon.

“Mr Riddle!” the librarian’s surprised voice pierced the dusty silence around them.

“Yes?” he turned around, acting as he had not just broken school rules.

“What are you doing here at this hour?” she demanded, her piercing blue gaze locked onto him, taking in his tired eyes and disheveled appearance.

“I… decided to come in and study before lessons,” the lie slid smoothly from Tom’s tongue. ‘I couldn’t sleep, you see, and I have an important essay due soon, I was hoping to use the library while there are no other students to distract me…”

“Ah, yes,” she scrutinized him for a moment longer before waving a long bony hand in the general direction of the door. She seemed to accept his excuse as the truth; after all, it was common knowledge that Tom Riddle was a studious member of the school community. “Off you go, then.”

Tom left, allowing himself a small smile of relief as he rounded the corner to the Slytherin Common Room, his brain whirling with various suspicions and thoughts concerning Horcruxes and their true nature.

-------------------

Tom was perfectly confident that he would be able to find out all he needed from Slughorn. After all, he was one of the Professor’s favourites, among the top students in his year, and he just happened to be in Horace’s House, too. Everything seemed to be working to his advantage so far.

“Professor, there’s something I would like to ask you,” Tom approached Slughorn’s desk eagerly after his Potions lesson that same day, his curiosity scalding his insides.

“Yes, Tom, what can I do to help?” Slughorn was wearning his trademark smile as he shuffled books and Potions around, rearranging them into a more esthetically pleasing order.

“Do you know… what Horcruxes are?” the Prefect asked hesitantly.

Tom’s Slytherin cunning was serving the purpose perfectly in this situation. He knew that were he to be too open, Slughorn might not reveal anything to him and, what’s worse, might mention Tom’s enthusiasm for the subject to Dark Arts to someone like Albus Dumbledore. And Tom knew that if there was one person in the castle who could see through him, it was the Transfiguration professor. The teenager needed to find the perfect balance between his true feelings of greed and dreams of power, and a completely faked act that Slughorn would be able to see through. He had considered this carefully throughout the day, but seeing the Potion Master’s thoughtful expression it took all the self-control Tom possessed not to force the information out of the middle-aged wizard as quickly as possible.

He wanted to know it all, and he wanted to find out now.

“I do, Tom,” Slughorn turned around slowly. “May I ask why the sudden interest?”

“I just… stumbled across a mention of them last night while writing a History of Magic essay, about the longest Goblin wars recorded, and there was no clear explanation, I was wondering…” Tom shrugged, pretending to be indifferent.

In reality, his eyes were focused much too hard on his teacher and were unnaturally bright, there was an almost unhealthy flush on his cheeks as he was absent-mindedly twisting his robes in tightly clenched palms. The elder of the two, however, seemed not to notice.

“It’s one of the Darkest areas of magic, Tom,” Slughorn took off his spectacles to clean them on the sleeve of his own navy robes. “A Horcrux is the word used for an object in which a person has concealed a part of their soul. But doing this requires splitting the soul, dividing it… and that, Tom, can only be done by committing murder. With the use of a spell, a part of the soul can then be encased in an object, or a vessel, if you like.”

Slughorn rubbed the bridge of his nose, seemingly blind to the wonder and greed painted on his student’s face.

“So… Horcruxes grant immortality?”

“Yes and no,” the Potions Professor replied slowly. “As long as a part of your soul survives in this world, even if the piece in your body is killed, a part of you still lives. However, consider that once both pieces of the soul are destroyed, that wizard dies, just as anybody else.”

“Both?” Tom frowned. “But you can divide your soul into more, right? Seven is the strongest magical number, wouldn’t dividing the soul into seven make the wizard stronger? Hypothetically speaking,” Tom added hastily, noticing the look of sheer horror on the Slytherin Professor’s face.

“Seven?! Tom, do you understand what that means? Seven murders… one is bad enough, this is horrible magic you don’t ever want to dabble in. Really, there was no need for us to discuss this in the first place, no need at all…”

Taking this as his cue to leave, Tom, gathered his things swiftly.

“Thank you very much, Professor,” he smiled as genuinely as Tom Riddle knew how to, and left the Potions dungeon with a swirl of his black robes, leaving a still horrified and slightly shaken Horace Slughorn behind.

Tom Riddle walked into the library, he held onto the strap of his bag as he walked in. He was here to do some research for a paper that was due in one of his classes. He kept to himself as he walked thru the room, and noticed other kids gathered in groups, but he preferred to work alone. He continued to walk up and down the aisle’s, wondering where he should be looking for the book he needed.

“May I help you?” a woman’s deep voice said behind him.

“I’m looking for a book on the subject of potions,”

“I see,” she said walking towards him.

He didn’t like the way she was looking at him and his eyes became wide as she was now standing in front of him.

“If you walk down two more aisle’s, and turn to your left, that is the section you are looking for,”

He nodded at her, and walked in the direction she told him to. As he walked, strange images came into his head. He disliked the librarian, just as much as some of the kids in the school.

When he came upon the shelf of books, he pulled some from the shelves, and started looking thru them.

“He’s so weird,” a young girl’s voice said.

Tom looked around and saw a couple of girls starring at him. When they noticed he was looking at them, they turned around and continued to read their books and whisper. A sneer came across Tom’s face, and he was going to plan something devious, he thought.

As he was getting tired of looking thru the books, he piled them up and gathered his belongings. Before he took a step, he saw a shining object coming from one of the books on the shelf.

He pulled the book from the shelf, and when he had the book in his hand, he knew this was a book he wanted to read. Something inside him told him to take it. He noticed other books on the shelf, next to the one he grabbed and took them as well. When he had the books in his hand, he looked around. When he thought no one was looking, he opened his bag and put them in there. He looked around and wondered if anyone saw him, and when he knew he was good to go, he left the library.

He went down to the Slytherin common room, where he could find a place to read the books. As he walked into the room, he noticed an empty table. As soon as he sat down, he put his bag on the table, and was opening it, when someone came into the room. He looked up and saw some of his classmates coming in and making a ruckus. He wouldn’t be able to concentrate here, so he decided to go to his room. As luck would have it, some of his roommates were there as well. He was upset he didn’t have any privacy, but knew there would be time later to read them.

He went to his bed and placed the bag on the desk beside it. He got ready for bed, and while he slept, all he could think about were the books on the desk next to him. He looked over at the bag, and wondered what each of them contained. Could it be magic that people at the school used? Could it make him more powerful than his classmates? He tossed and turned that night, wanting badly to read the books, knowing it could lead him to something greater.

The next morning, while getting dressed, he overheard his classmates talking about the Quidditch game. He rolled his eyes, grabbed his bag and bumped into one of the boys on his way out the room. The other boys starred at him as he walked out the room, and shook their heads.

When young Tom Riddle made his way into the Great Hall for breakfast, he sat at an area where he wouldn’t be bothered. He ate quietly, and didn’t make any contact with anyone. The only thing on his mind, were the books in his bag. He noticed professor Dumbledore walk into the hall, and he quickly bowed his head down. Professor Dumbledore greeted some of the students “Good Morning,” and noticed Tom Riddle sitting alone, eating his breakfast. He shook his head, and then looked at him a little more closely. There was something different about him today, he thought. He would keep a look out for him, just in case.

After breakfast, Tom made his way towards the lake, as he didn’t want to see the Quidditch game with the other students. He looked around and when he thought no one was around, he grabbed his bag. He pulled one of the books out of the bag, touched the front cover, and took a breathe. He heard a twig break, and he turned around quickly, wand in hand.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” the tall boy said.

Tom sneered at the boy, and put his wand away. He picked up the book he dropped and shoved it back in his bag.

Hagrid noticed the book, and took a few steps back, as Tom walked past him. Hagrid shrugged and kept on walking along the path by the river.

Tom couldn’t find a place to look at the books, and was getting very irritated by it. He thought about going back to the library, but quickly changed his mind. He wondered where else he could go, and he started to walk around the school grounds.

Floor, by floor he went and he finally came to the third floor. He was walking in the hall, when he started to hear a noise behind him. He slowly turned around and saw a door beginning to materialize on the wall beside him. He looked at the door and wondered if he had seen it before. He looked around, and when he noticed no one was around, he walked towards the door.

As he opened the door, he noticed a table and chair in the middle of the room. He shut the door behind him, and walked slowly to the table. He looked around the room, which wasn’t bigger than the room he shared with his classmates. He sat his bag down on the table, and pulled the chair out. As he sat down, he opened his bag, and pulled out the book he had earlier.

Aware that he was always disturbed before opening it, he looked around and realized he wasn’t going to be bothered this time.

He began to read the book and was fascinated by what he was reading. Why wasn’t he being taught these things in class? Maybe he would be taught this subject matter in the coming years at the school. But it interested him too much, and wanted to learn now.

He was deep into the book now, each time reading a paragraph, the more excited he would become. Before he knew it, three hours had passed, and he hadn’t even gotten to the other books yet. He gathered his belongings, and walked out the door.

As he made his way towards the great hall, he noticed professor Dumbledore talking with another professor.

“Tom,”

“Yes, Professor,”

“A word please,” he told him. He excused himself from the other professor and walked towards Tom.

“Is everything ok, Tom?”

“Yes, Professor,”

Dumbledore was looking at Tom as though he could see right thru his words. He nodded a couple of times and then asked, “If there is anything you want to talk about, my door is always open,”

“I will keep that in mind Professor,”

“Very well, off you go,”

Tom stood there and wondered if he should tell the professor what he found. He tugged on his bag strap and thought about it, and shook his head.

“Are you sure you’re alright Tom?”

“Yes, Professor,” and he smiled at the Professor as he left to go eat his lunch.

Professor Dumbledore stood there and knew that the boy was hiding something, but didn’t know what it was. He also knew that if Tom wanted to tell him about it, he would.

A strange feeling came across the Professor, and he looked around the area as if he was searching for something. He shook his head and made his way towards his classroom. Would he ever find out what Tom Riddle was hiding?

Another term at Hogwarts was just getting underway. Most of the students were happy to be back, the first years were pretty much thrilled to death, and there were a few who simply didn’t care. This had been a clear, crisp day in late September, the leaves were turning and making a brilliant pageant for all to see.

It was getting to be a bit late in the day, very few students were around at this hour, which was exactly the way Tom Riddle preferred it. He was coming here to the library to do some research on his own and he didn’t feel like having other people around pestering him.

Tom had been in a bad mood all day, but there was nothing unusual about that. He was filled with hatred and feelings of revenge ever since he had found out the sad story of his birth, how his rich muggle father had abandoned his mother before he was born and how she had died giving birth to him, among other things. After that, he had been placed in an orphanage and had a horrible, miserable life, one no child should ever be subjected to. It wasn’t until Professor Dumbledore had come along and found him there that he discovered the whole truth, that he was descended from the greatest wizard who ever lived, Salazar Slytherin. His rage against his father increased, the terrible wrong he and his mother had been done, and he came to the belief that muggles were evil and needed to be destroyed. That wasn’t something he could share with anyone, at least not at this point in time, so Tom chose to keep the hatred inside him.

Tom was a handsome young man at age 14, with dark hair and classic features. He was also a quick learner who exceled in all his classes, and nearly all the professors took a quick liking to him. Now only a 4th year, he had already been made a prefect and had certain privileges that other students didn’t have. But it was better to be safe than sorry.

Tom looked around, making sure that no one saw him as he sneaked into the Restricted Section of the library. He wasn’t really sure what he was looking for, but he would know it when and if he found it. But one thing was sure. If there was anything of use to him it would be found here in the Restricted Section and not in the main part of the library bookshelves.

There were so many books here, mostly huge, dusty tomes that hadn’t been touched in many years, but Tom had patience when he needed it. If there was something he wanted he was willing to do whatever it took to achieve those ends.

Finally, Tom’s eyes lighted on a larger than usual book with an olive covering. The book bore the title “Dark and Forbidden Potions, the Complete Collection” and was placed on the highest shelf, in a spot where he couldn’t possibly reach it. Tom pulled out his wand from his robe, pointed it up towards the book and silently whispered “accio”. Seconds later, the book came floating towards him, and he grabbed it and ran off to one of the study tables to investigate.

Just then Tom looked up and saw Mrs. Krebs, the librarian, come walking towards the table where he was sitting. Fortunately, Tom had had sense enough to leave the Restricted Area with the book and take a seat in the regular library study area. He smiled as the older woman walked towards him. Her long silvery hair was tied back in a rather untidy French knot, and she was wearing a long pink gown covered with red tulips underneath her plain black robes. She also had a stringy pink ribbon tied around the bun

“My, Mrs. Krebs, you’re looking lovely today,” Tom said flirtatiously. He had a natural charm about him, and he knew that this elderly witch was quite taken with him. Many of the female professors were, but the librarian seemed to find him especially appealing.

“Why, thank you, Tom,” Mrs. Krebs said, practically blushing with girlish excitement. “What class are you studying for, is there anything particular I can help you find?” She walked a little closer, but not close enough to see what the book was that Tom was attempting to conceal.

Tom had to think of something fast, to keep the woman from approaching any closer. He would take desperate means to stop her if he had to, but that was bound to attract attention. Not that he had any special feelings for Mrs. Krebs, of course, the woman was laughable, a joke. Everyone was merely a means to an end in Tom’s eyes, and he would use people in whatever way he could to get that which he wanted, simple revenge.

“I’ve really got to make some headway in this Ancient Runes homework,” Tom lied. “I always need to spend a little more time with that than with some of the other classes, much as I would love to spend some talk speaking with you. I will come back and visit with you soon, though.” With that, he flashed his teeth at her, practically dazzling her with his charm.

“I shall look forward to that. Have a good evening,” Mrs. Krebs said, and turned and walked back towards the front of the library, away from the study area. Tom breathed a sigh of relief, this made things so much easier. Now he could see exactly what it was that this book contained, hopefully he would find something interesting that he could use. Not that his expectations were high, he was used to disappointment.

As Tom opened the book and turned the pages, however, he found that for once his expectations were filled beyond his wildest imagination. This was far from an ordinary potions book, it contained potions for things which were forbidden. There was a recipe for the strongest amortencia known, but Tom wasn’t interested in that.

Searching through the book he found all the things he truly wanted, everything that had been rumored about but never really proven to exist. These were potions and recipes for the most potent Draught of Living Death possible, directions on how to make a liquid Imperio that couldn’t possibly be resisted and many potions which would cause unspeakable suffering and harm to the unfortunate recipient. A wicked smile broke across Tom’s lips as he continued to thumb through the book. Many of the ingredients were forbidden and difficult to come by, of course, but Tom would find a way to procure everything he needed, he was sure of that. The Imperio potion was simple enough to make, and he could force other students to consume it and then find the ingredients he needed and bring them to him.

Oh yes, it was all falling into place. Soon the name of Tom Marvolo Riddle would be famous, someone who would be looked on as the greatest and darkest wizard of all time. This book was only a small step in his quest for greatness, there were many more secrets to learn where this came from. In fact, he would come back and search out these shelves again and find everything he needed. He had done it once, and he wasn’t about to get caught. Even if someone did see him in the Restricted Section it didn’t matter, he was a prefect, he would make up a lie about what he was doing there or simply curse anyone who happened to cross his path. It really didn’t matter, and Tom didn’t care.

After thinking about it for a moment, Tom decided that he was going to keep this book, it was not going back to the library and now belonged to him. The only problem was that the book was way too big for him to just walk out with it under his arm. Well, he would just use the shrinking charm and reduce it down to a tiny size. “Reducio”, he pointed at the book again, gathered it up and proceeded to saunter towards the front desk and out of the library area.

“You’re not going to check out that book you were looking at, Tom?”, Mrs. Krebs looked up from her desk. “Where is it?”

“No, it wasn’t really what I wanted,” Tom lied. “I put it back on the shelves.”

“Oh. Well, have a good evening, dear,” Mrs. Krebs repeated her earlier call.

“I will,” Tom said. He would have lots of time to learn the secrets of this book in bed at night alone, studying in his dorm. This was much more than a small step, it was the beginning of the end.

Tom Riddle was hunkered down in the Hogwarts library. The place he spent most of his free time when he wasn’t bossing around that idiot pool of housemates he had. He couldn’t believe that half of them had been sorted into Slytherin. Since his first year when he had fist come to Hogwarts and was sorted he had made it up in his mind to find out who his parents were and where he had come from. Professor Dumbledore the doting fool seemed to know everything about him but who his parents were, and that only made Tom hate him all the more.

He wanted to know why his family left him to rot in that filthy muggle hovel. He wanted them to know that his life had been hell having to live with that garbage. The only ray of sunlight had been the pain he got to inflict on his other bunkmates.

His prefect badge was poking him in the chin as his face was so close to the old Daily Prophet he was reading. His face blanched when he pulled out one of the pages of the old paper. The headline jumped out at him like a whiplash. Muggle Claims he was bewitched into marrying a witch. The headline read. He didn’t know why that headline had jumped out at him but it did. He took a deep breath as he read over the article. And then there it was. The name Tom Riddle. His name, a name he always despised and now he knew why. He was gripping the table so hard that his hand snapped off a piece of the table and it clattered to the floor. His father was a muggle. That couldn’t be! He was the most talented wizard at Hogwarts and he would say the whole wizarding world if you asked.

“What on earth?” barked Madame Pince. Her blazing red hair came flouncing around the corner that Tom had tucked himself into. “A prefect destroying school property,” She clutched at her chest as if it was the most ludicrous thing she had seen on her life. Tom tried not to roll his eyes as she stood up to retrieve the piece of the table that had scattered across the floor. He lazily repaired the broken table. She acted as if he were a muggle and couldn’t fix a broken piece of a silly table.

He tried to keep the glare off his face as he turned to her. “Forgive me Madame Pince. There is no excuse for my behavior,” he said to her with his trademark pretty boy grins. She instantly simpered and grinned at him then turned and walked away. “Stupid old wench,” he said when she was back at the front desk. Women were so easy to manipulate he barely got any joy out of it anymore. He got back to his article. He needed to know more about this. He had searched and searched everywhere for the name Riddle and nothing had ever come up. He even went back to the medieval times and he search had been futile. He didn’t want to admit it at the time that his father might be a half and half, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to admit that his parents included a bloody muggle. He scanned the article looking for the name of his mother or just his family name. “At the release of this article Merope Gaunt was unavailable for comment,” his finger slowly traced over her name. His mother, so he did have one. He sat back in his chair and thought about that for a minute.

What would he say to the woman who had lowered herself to be with a muggle? Would he want to curse her for leaving him in that orphanage? Did he care? His mouth down turned into a sneer. No he didn’t care, the woman was obviously beneath him anyways. What did he need with someone like her raising him?

He tore the article out of the paper and tucked it into his robes; he was however still going to investigate this further.

Tom Riddle was an average boy. At least, to most of Hogwarts he was.

To the outside world he was always something worse. A curse, a plague, an outcast, or… worse. He’d no choice in the matter, it was simply who he was. If he wasn’t, it certainly wasn’t up to him to convince anyone of otherwise. He’d tried his peace since he was very young.

But now all he could find was the peace given to him at Hogwarts. At least here he was an average boy.

Tom was in his fourth year of Hogwarts and starting to study rather hard for the OWLs. He knew that it was the beginning of a fresh career out of school, or sometimes better. It could mean for higher education, an internship, or something that he could make well out of his life. This of course meant he spent an extraordinary amount of time in the school’s library. And it was here that he may have changed his life forever.

I would have liked to say it was a dark morning, or even a stormy night. It should have been in the middle of winter or with thunder crashing outside. However it was merely another bright day in the spring. Tom, in an effort to create an excellent DADA essay, managed to get a pass into the restricted section of the library.

He made his way in and showed his pass to the librarian, who then escorted him into the back so that he may look at the books. Once there he scanned book upon book of Dark Arts potions and spells. Some were very simple: mind altering or ones made to cause pain. Others were harsher. They cut deep, they scarred, and they killed.

He looked at his essay title, “What Makes Dark Arts Dark?” then back at the books. He suddenly realized he did not truly know. He selected some of the more innocent-looking tomes as well as some of the larger and darker ones then made his way to his usual table.

After hours of study and research he had a spectrum: spells labeled as dark arts which didn’t seem so bad, all the way to the unforgivable curses. However, he still could not separate what kept these curses and hexes different from anything else. He’d read that dark spells affected the soul, however he couldn’t think of how.

He looked down at the sheet and found one of the slightly more dangerous ones, then to a chair which was beside him. Looking up, it appeared that the librarian had left momentarily. He cast the dark spell there in the library with a flinch and waited.

Nothing happened.

Nothing.

Oh sure, the chair he’d cast at was in splinters and he’d have to clear it up, but no one came down on him. There were no aurors who suddenly appeared to take him away. He didn’t feel a single thing. Though somehow it felt… good. It was a release he’d been looking for.

His heart was pounding. He wanted more. He wanted to try more. He looked down at the list again. There were several spells that could ensure friendship and love. First… first he needed to be sure. Maybe casting one spell had no effect on a person. Maybe it took more. What if it took…

He was tempted to continue there in the library; however he knew the librarian would be back at any moment. Instead, he cleared up the mess and made his way for the Room of Requirement for further practice of his new spell.

"Oooooooh, Young Tom Riddle is in the Hogwarts library and he has just discovered something very exciting!"

Flinching at the whiny tones, Tom looked up from his book and scowled at the sight that greeted him. She had a point though, he had been reading most avidly and his heart was beating rapidly at what he had found. Though the fact that she had been able to tell that he was excited wasn't something he was pleased about.

"Did you want something?" His voice was hard as flint, the words clipped and abrupt as if it pained him to talk to her. The Ravenclaw should have been scared of him, she should have flinched away or gasped, her breath should have caught in her throat and her eyes should have looked away in submission and acknowledgment; but none of these things happened. Instead, when he glared at her, she peered back at him through her bottle thick glasses and laughed. Or tittered actually; the noise she made wasn't pleasant or humorous enough to be called a laugh. His lip curled back in mild disgust.

"Ooooh! Well I'd like the new Glenn Miller record, a date to the next Hogsmeade weekend, Olive Hornby to suddenly wake up with her face transfigured to her... oh! And I'd love to meet Bogie!" She tittered at him some more and put her hands on her hips, her chubby face screwing up as she peered at him, "Aren't you going to pull out a chair for me and invite me to sit? That’s what a gentleman would do!"

Tom looked at the Ravenclaw like she was an alien from another planet. Who was Glenn Miller? Did she actually think someone would ask a lanky-haired, chubby, whiny girl like her to Hogsmeade? Ugh! She probably had dreams about being escorted to Puddifoots by some handsome star quidditch player who would buy her all pie she wanted and let her simper at him. Nothing at all like Tom’s dreams; Tom dreamed of power and... What did she say?

“A bogie?” He recoiled visibly and continued to stare at her like she was some sort of unpleasant thing he had stepped in and subsequently found stuck to the bottom of his boot. Did she mean a bogie of the nose variety? How crass!

“That’s what a gentleman would do for a lady.” Tom told her, attempting not to think about bogies. His knuckles were turning white from the chokehold he had on his book, his expression just barely hiding the fact that he’d much prefer that grip to be on her neck, with his fingernails digging in like talons to make her stop talking in that nauseating voice. He smiled at the thought and flicked his wand, the chair responding by shooting across the library and taking several other chairs with it to crash into a long table containing several inkpots and quills , which promptly spilled everywhere in a splinter cloud of wood and ink.

She watched the collision and was quiet for precisely long enough for Tom to think that maybe she was scared and ready to run away screaming and leave him along forever. But his satisfied half-smirk fell off his face as quickly as it had appeared when she merely turned back to him and sat in the chair adjacent to the spot he had just made vacant, diagonally across from him.

“Oooh! Who would have thought Tom Riddle had it in him to make such art?” She peered over at the wreckage of the chair and Tom followed her gaze, dispassionately staring at the abstract of splinters and blackness, a particularly thick rivulet of ink running down the one intact piece of the broken chair as if it were caressing it in mourning for its abrupt demise.

“Art.” Tom echoed hollowly, relaxing his death grip on the book in front of him and closing it with a satisfying thwap. He examined the wreckage thoughtfully, “You think that is art?”

“Okay so maybe it’s just wanton destruction.” She allowed, rolling her eyes back towards him and shifting in her new seat, clearly making herself right at home. Her voice grated on his ears, but for once, Tom did not notice.

“A Self-Portrait, then.” He decided with an air of twisted satisfaction. “I like it. I think I’ll call it... Untitled.”

“Untitled? Art should have a much nobler title than that; something that means something. You know,” She leaned forward, and under the glare of the candle light, a trail of pimples was suddenly visible in close relief along forehead and chin. “Anyone would think you like being the tortured artist. Or dark artist or whatever it is you consider yourself to be.” The Ravenclaw took off her glasses and polished them on the lapel of her blouse as she batted her eyelashes at him.

Tom’s expression changed again at her simpering tone, his eyes cold and hard and his lips turned down in antipathy as he looked at her. Why was she here? He tapped his finger on the desk, the black stone set in the gold ring he wore, seemed to pulsate in the firelight. “What business of yours is it anyway?”

“Well no need to be rude. I’m being friendly, unlike some people.” She answered petulantly, replacing her glasses on her nose and sighing in an alarming manner, “I bet Bogie would be friendly and a gentleman. He wouldn’t throw chairs everywhere even if it was awfully artistic of you.”

“Bogie?” Tom asked again, unsure if she was teasing him or not, “I don’t know what you are talking about.” And it irked him. Tom Riddle despised not knowing things he wanted to know.

“Bogart.” She attempted to clarify, her voice jabbing at Tom’s ears.

“A boggart? You named a boggart, Bogie?” Tom stroked the gilding on the spine of his book and wondered why he was having this ridiculous conversation with this sad and pathetic caricature of a person.

“As in Humphrey Bogart,” She apparently liked having one up on him because her expression was smug and somehow made her voice even more grating. “Boy oh boy! You live under a rock don’t you? Always in here reading books you’ve somehow managed to sneak out of the restricted section,” She prodded at his hand with one finger and Tom stared at her dirty fingernail in revulsion and moved his hand away to reveal the title on his book. 'Secrets of the Darkest Art'. “I knew you were an artist.” Triumph permeated her voice. “Oh hey, speaking of boggarts—“

“—We weren’t.” Tom attempted to cut her off, even though they sort of had been. It was more that he didn’t want to hear what she might have to say on the subject. But she acted as if she hadn’t been interrupted at all.

“—You know we are doing Boggarts in Defence Against the Dark Arts this week? It’s going to be horrible! I just know when Olive casts Riddikulus she will change her boggart into me.” She moaned, burying her face in her hands and sharing as if she thought Tom cared. He did not, and said as much.

“I don’t care.”

She looked up at him and her expression looked precisely as if the word ‘don’t’ had not existed to her ears. “I know. You know what else I know? I know what my boggart is going to be. And it’s not Olive Hornby.” Her voice lowered to a whisper and Tom finally perked up a fraction of an amount.

“And what, pray tell, might that be?” Maybe he could use it against her to finally get the unpleasant Ravenclaw to leave him alone.

“A Basilisk.”

“How interesting.” And it was. Tom made a mental note to file away for later review. He slipped his hand out and pulled his book toward himself, finally clasping it against his chest. Just wishing she would leave so he could continue reading. Except now she was probably going to ask him what he thought his boggart would be.

“What about you, what do you think your boggart will be, Tom?”

“I’m not afraid of anything.” He knew she was going to ask.

“Everyone is afraid of something.”

“I’m not.”

“I bet you are.”

Tom narrowed his eyes, but did not say anything, he merely sat as still as a statue, the book clutched tight against him.

“I think, knowing you—“

“—you do not know me.”

“—knowing you, it’s got to be a fear of weakness or,” She paused as if suddenly inspired, “Or of death.”

“I will never die.” Tom told her somewhat sibilantly before standing up. “I am going to find a place where I can read, where you won’t bother me.”

Without saying goodbye, Tom Riddle strode from the library, the book ‘Secrets of the Darkest Art’ tucked under his arm.

Myrtle watched him leave.

Disclaimer: Please make sure you have read the winning round one entry BEFORE reading this chapter.

Leaving the library, Tom felt excited and annoyed all at once. That girl didn’t know him, no one did. Distracted and thinking that he was alone, he allowed himself the moment of excitement she witnessed. But he was annoyed that he had succumbed to an uncontrolled moment of anger and dropped his normally well guarded facade to reveal something personal – his desire for eternal life. He learnt long ago that people became wary even scared of him if he let too much of his true nature show.

Unlike everyone else though he felt the rising excitement because Tom knew that before long that girl would be punished for her interruption and insufferable familiarity. But that would have to wait for a time that wouldn’t raise a lot of awkward questions and unwanted interest.

In all things control was the key.

Even before Dumbledore came to the orphanage and introduced him to the world of magic the young Tom Riddle had realised that the only thing that mattered was power and the will to use it. And it was his willingness to use his then unexplained power to bend others to his will that made even the older children fear and respect him or risk the consequences. Since coming to Hogwarts the depth and breadth of his studies had far exceeded that covered in class, focussing on his penchant for the dark arts. His power, and followers, had increased in line with his ever increasing magical abilities.

While Myrtle’s time would come, her mention of a basilisk was curious. Although she didn’t notice through her incessant chattering, she had in fact held Tom’s attention for the briefest of moments.

As part of his magical studies and attempts to trace his own heritage he had found a number of similarities between himself and the founder of his house of Slytherin, such as being a parseltongue. One of the most obscure aspects of the legend surrounding Slytherin included details of a secret chamber he created beneath Hogwarts which also supposedly contained none other than a basilisk. Finding the chamber as part of his quest for power had become an obsession in recent months. While Tom was confident that the entrance was through one of the schools bathrooms he was yet to find the way in. Perhaps the Ravenclaw girl could have some information that might help? But that too could wait.

He had found something of more immediate interest and without any real conscience thought Tom was making his way up to the Astronomy Tower. While he had no interest in the subject whatsoever, today’s constant rain and heavy cloud cover should ensure that it will be deserted, permitting him a couple more hours of uninterrupted study.

While he sensed him before he rounded the corner, Tom still feigned surprise when he saw Dumbledore coming in the opposite direction.

“Good Evening Professor” Tom said turning on the charm. With the slightest outward hint of suspicion, the Transfiguration teacher considered the young Tom Riddle as he stood before him. “Good Evening Tom, and where are you heading at this time of night?” it might have been a few hours before students were due back in their dormitories, but he was always curious why Tom was more often than not off somewhere on his own.
“Just going up to the Astronomy Tower to see if today’s cloud cover had cleared, Professor, so I could get an early start on the homework assignment.”
“And, on your own again?” Dumbledore asked. “I find it easier to concentrate on my own, sir” Tom replied although it wasn’t any of his assignments he was thinking of.
“Well then off you go, don’t forget to be back in your dormitory by 10, Tom” Dumbledore said with a final searching assessment of Tom’s face for some hint of what he was really up to.
“Good Night, Sir” Tom said as he quickly continued on his way to the seventh floor and the Astronomy Tower.

Dumbledore watched Tom as he disappeared around the corner before continuing on his usual patrol around the hallways. Considering the time since their first meeting at the orphanage, he may have matured and become what most of the girls of his year consider a handsome young man. When he chose to he could effortlessly charm and ingratiate himself with students and teachers alike and most in turn seemed eager to seek his favour. Nevertheless there was a dark side to his nature that kept most at a distance and repelled anyone seeking friendship. Except for a few of his fellow Slytherin’s seemingly hand picked for their predilection towards cruelty and bullying most others were wary or even scared of the young Mr Riddle. Even from his first foray to Diagon Alley he had preferred to act alone in secrecy. It was almost as if Tom saw any more time than necessary spent in the company of others as an unwelcome intrusion into his world.
While there had been quite a few incidents of victimisation and cruelty beyond the normal student conflicts and fights since Tom’s arrival at Hogwarts, Dumbledore was so far unable to prove that Tom had any direct influence or involvement with the perpetrators. Despite appearances Dumbledore remained suspicious of Tom, his secrecy and his ability to influence others. Perhaps more than any other student to pass through Hogwarts Dumbledore hoped there was still a chance for Tom Riddle.

“Old fool” thought Tom as he walked away. Once again Dumbledore had appeared suspiciously to confront and question him. While being only a minor annoyance Tom could always count on him to take an overly suspicious interest in his activities. Despite becoming a skilled Occlumens Tom was always on his guard around Dumbledore and quite often felt that his challenging stare was trying to delve deeper for answers. Despite being useful against lesser, weaker wizards he was never tempted to risk using Leglimency in his presence.

As always and in all things control was the key.

Stepping out onto the platform atop of the astronomy tower and checking that he was indeed alone, he allowed himself a moment of indulgence and a brief smile as he thought of his plans for that insufferable Ravenclaw girl. Extracting her knowledge about basilisks would make his revenge even more rewarding.

Reaching into his robes he took out his diary ready to take a few notes for future reference.
The diary was enchanted so that its contents would only be revealed to its owner and Tom had used it to carefully plot each step in his research into the many aspects of the Dark Arts. Caractacus Burke found it during one of his regular trips to Romania in search of magical objects and potions and Tom had brought it during one of his many visits to Borgin and Burkes last summer. Their leaning towards the Dark Arts was primarily driven by greed as they knew that the darker the magic, potion or poison meant a higher asking price and greater profit. Out of necessity their knowledge of magical items was unprecedented but it was their contacts in all parts of the magical world that interested Tom. He had cultivated his relationship with both Borgin and Burke on the pretence of a search for knowledge about all magical items despite the general prejudice against the Dark Arts although it was the lack of acceptance and justifiable caution by the general wizarding world that had made Borgin and Burke so successful, and wealthy.

As always Tom’s interest was more personal, secret and perhaps to the casual observer of the darkest nature. Far beyond either Borgin and Burke or even Dumbledore could imagine. Tom was determined that no one would know his intentions until he was ready.

Returning to “Secrets of the Darkest Art” he found his place once more.
“A Horcrux can ensure that a part of a witch or wizard survives independently from their mortal body, although the process and consequences of creating one is one of the darkest acts of the magical world. Being nearly indestructible once created, a Horcrux can ensure a limited form of immortality for the witch or wizard irresponsible enough to create this most evil magical object.” Tom beamed with excitement as he read on.

Although the text was disappointingly bereft of specific details it confirmed Tom’s suspicions that there was a way, however difficult. This was a start. With perseverance the answers would come. Time became irrelevant with the prospect of immortality. Tom knew he didn’t need to write this in his diary.

Tom sat back and considered the information in front of him and how difficult it had been to find even these scant details. He thought of the new DADA Teacher, Professor Slughorn as a source of further information. While he was conceited and an insufferable name dropper, he considered himself a king maker and had already marked Tom as being destined for greatness. While he would have to be cautious with his approach, Tom was sure he could use the Professor’s character to his advantage.

Disclaimer: Please make sure you have read the winning round one entry BEFORE reading this chapter.

It was late in the day, almost time for dinner and Tom was thinking. His thoughts were on the conversation earlier that day with Myrtle. Why did she bother him so? Did she not realize that he would never be interested in her? He looked around the deserted lake, it was the once escape he had in the winter months while everyone else was indoors. Myrtle had been following him for ages it seemed, would she never give up?

He pulled "Secrets of the Darkest Art" out of the pocket of his robe. Turning back the page on hocruxes he continued where he had left off. He knew now that for this to work he'd have to kill someone. That was the easy part. He pulled out his diary and jotted down a few notes. The diary never left his pocket. If anybody found it he would be ruined. Especially if Dumbledore found it. That man was a thorn in his side. It seemed he never stopped watching.

He pulled out his wand and flicked it at the book. It flew back toward the castle. It was too much of a hassle to sneak it back in. Maybe a little First Year would find it and get expelled, he grinned at the thought. A small leaf fell from the tree and he felt at peace for a moment. It was one of those rare moments of clarity. He twisted the ring on his finger. He pulled the diary back out of his pocket. There was something else he needed to note:

Quote:

Myrtle is always around. This won't work for my plans. Today was close. If she had seen what the page was about I would be done for. She needs to be taken care of.

Then he tucked it back in his robe along with his wand. He gazed out at Hogwarts, his first true home. He would never truly leave this place. It was the power he felt that he like the most. He felt invincible.

A low voice sounded behind him and he turned to look at the speaker. "Oh Rosier. What do you want?"

"She's looking for you again." He said, sounding exasperated.

"So you came to where I was hiding?" He let his voice relay a bit of the anger he felt. These stupid boys, never thinking before acting.

"I'm s-sorry I didn't-"

"There you are!" A high voice screeched from behind him, she was here.

"Oh.. you again."

She moved closer to him and then turned to Rosier. "I thought you said he was feeling sick." She whined at him.

"Guess I was wrong."

Myrtle turned back to Tom as Rosier walked away, and stared at him with the expression he'd seen on her face when she was looking at cherry tarts in the Great Hall at meal times. It made him shiver. She wiped a line of drool off her chin and moved closer to him. "I made this for you." She whispered, fluttering her eyes at him. The package she handed him was wrapped in parchment.

He just looked at it. "So what were you looking for in that book anywhoo?" She asked him with a voice that was dripping with sugar. It made him cringe.

"None of your business Myrtle."

"A gentleman would tell a young lady."

He wanted to pull out his wand and curse her. Maybe change her into a fat little bunny. His fingers closed around his wand in his robe as he contemplated the idea. A glint lit in his eye as he settled on what he would do. Myrtle would make a good little piggy. He pulled his wand slowly out of his robe just as the voice of Olive Hornby called out in the distance. "Hey Myrtle! I know you're out here!" Myrtle jumped, glanced longingly at Tom, and ran.

Tom sighed and dropped the package to the ground before heading back to the castle, feeling disappointed. He hated missing a chance to practice magic.

Disclaimer: Please make sure you have read the winning round one entry BEFORE reading this chapter.

Tom walks down the hall toward the moving staircase. He can’t wait to read some more of the Secrets of the Dark Arts. Slughorn will get suspicious if I skip the Slug Club tonight. He is really a pompous buffoon. Does he really think I hang onto his every word like a devoted lapdog? Slughorn really loves to hear himself speak. He only stops long enough to put a piece of crystallized pineapple in his mouth. I don’t know how he keeps his svelte figure. Not the way he eats that pinapple. Riddle sees the Grey Lady hovering in front of the landscape painting. Despite her best efforts, it’s obvious she’s been waiting for him. She smiles at Tom. This must be my lucky day. He walks over. “Have you read any good books lately, Mr. Riddle?” The Grey Lady asks. Tom hides his book behind the sleeves of his robe. “I’ve really enjoyed the books on Salazar Slytherin you suggested. They are so different from the average books,” Tom replies. “I really envy you knowing him. What I would give to have been in your shoes, or your many suitors’ shoes. “You flatter me Tom. You appreciate me in ways they never did.” The Grey Lady looks at Tom. “Uncle Salazar was a fascinating man. His views about muggle borns were wrong of course, but he appreciated my thirst for knowledge. My mother wanted me to marry and give her grandchildren, but I…” The Grey Lady turns away. She doesn’t normally talk about herself, but Tom is a kindred spirit. He understands her pain. “I always enjoyed talking to Uncle Salazar. I was sorry to see him leave. You remind me of him. You are so different from the other students.” Tom smiles warmly at her. “Because I prefer the library to Quidditch. Hogwarts is still so limited as to what they will teach. I understand why you felt so limited here as a student.” Now you flatter me Mr. Riddle. I was never as brilliant as my mother, but I did enjoy reading and intellectual conversation.” “You underestimate your abilities,” Tom says. I also envy you having a mother. Mine died giving birth to me.” Tom wipes fake tears from his eyes. “You value knowledge as much as I do. I wish we had lived in the same time. How differently things might have turned out.” The Grey Lady smiles as she walks to the staircase. “You're too kind Lady Ravenclaw.” Tom follows her and descends the stairs. “Do you think Salazar would approve of us?” “Uncle Salazar always wanted me to be happy…” Suddenly Myrtle appears out of nowhere. She barrels down the stairs knocking Tom down. “Myrtle!” The Grey Lady screams. “Have you forgotten you are a Ravenclaw? Apologize to Mr. Riddle and help him up.” Yes, ma’am.” Myrtle sheepishly says. She bends down and offers Tom her hand. “Stupid four-eyed mudblood! Why don’t you watch where you’re going?” Tom refuses her help. He’d die before he allowed a mudblood to touch him. Myrtle moans and picks up his book instead. “Oooh! You’re going to be in so much trouble,” Myrtle gleefully says. “Wait until Professor Dumbledore sees this.” Myrtle waves the book in front of Tom’s face. “Give that back to me!” Tom holds out his hand. “Isn’t that book from the library’s restricted section?” The Grey Lady asks. “I’m just borrowing it,” Tom tries to reassure her. “I would never remove a book from the library without permission.” The Grey Lady disappears through the wall. “Wait! I can explain…” Tom turns his furious eyes on Myrtle. “That didn’t go well; did it?” Myrtle says. “Give me my book now mudblood!” Myrtle’s hurt feelings turn to anger. “Make Me!” Myrtle takes off down the stairs.

Tom takes out his wand and gives chase. He is so mad. Tom doesn’t notice his section of the staircase change direction. While Myrtle continues down to the first floor, Tom exists on the second floor. At the same time, Avery and Lestrange run out of the girls’ bathroom and right into Tom. The three of them end up in a pile on the floor. “Get off of me!” Tom yells in a blind rage. He manages to get untangled and back on his feet. Tom points his wand at the boys. Lestrange and Avery lie on the floor looking at Tom’s wand. They are soaked to the bone. Tom finally recognizes them. “What happened to you?” He helps them up. “Why are you so wet?” “That little twerp, Olive Hornby, surprised us with the Aguamenti Charm in the girls’ bathroom,” Lestrange says. "Lestrange got her good with the Canary Transformation Curse,” Avery says. “She was picking feathers off when we left.” "Yeah, Hornby was mad as a wet hen," Lestrange chimes in. "That’s why we ran out and into you.” Tom looks around for Myrtle. She’s disappeared. “You didn’t see Myrtle in the bathroom?” Avery and Lestrange snicker. “What were you doing there in the first place?” “We were looking for the Chamber of…” Tom hits Avery with the Silencing Charm. “Not here….” Tom leads them to a rarely used classroom. “Haven’t I told you not to mention it except in private.” Avery and Lestrange nod. “What did you find?” Avery face explodes into a huge grin. Tom looks at Lestrange. He hesitates. Tom grabs Lestrange by the collar and shoves his wand under his chin. “I’m in no mood for games! Spit it out already!!!” “Avery and I found a snake engraved on one of the sink’s taps. We also found…. Promise me you won’t get mad…” Tom sticks his wand further into Lestrange’s chin. “Tell me!!!” “Myrtle has written Myrtle loves Tom Marvolo Riddle all over the girls’ bathroom.” Lestrange closes his eyes waiting for the fury to start. Tom lets go of him and removes the silencing charm from Avery. “That stupid, four-eyed, mudblood!!! This time she’s gone too far.” Suddenly all the strange looks and laughing behind his back made sense. The whole school must think I’m in love with that mudblood. “How dare she disgrace me like that!! Myrtle is going to wish she was never born!!!”

The Slug Club runs long tonight. Tom, Avery, and Lestrange hurry to the second floor girls’ bathroom. It’s after curfew, so the halls are deserted except for the prefects and teachers on patrol. The girl’s bathroom is also dark and deserted. The only light is the moonlight coming in through the window. “Are you sure Myrtle will come?” Avery whispers once they are in the bathroom and ready. “She’ll be here. Myrtle wouldn’t miss having a date with me.” Tom hears the bathroom door open. “Get out of sight. Someone’s coming.” Tom hides in the shadows.

“Tom, are you in here?” Myrtle asks as she walks into the bathroom. “Why is it so dark? I mean it is sort of romantic, but can’t we have a little more light please?” “I brought your book. I sorry I took it the way I did. I was just mad at you. You do understand?” Myrtle looks around for Tom. “Why are you hiding?” Myrtle takes out her wand and performs the lumos charm. Suddenly she hears a hissing sound behind her. “That’s not funny Tom. You know I’m scared of snakes and such.” Myrtle turns around and sees it. She screams in horror. Myrtle is face to face with a basilisk. She immediately covers her eyes with her hands and turns around. “Accio wand!” Tom whispers. Myrtles wand flies out of her hands and into Tom’s waiting hand. He puts it in his robe pocket. Myrtle runs into the shadows. Speaking in Parceltongue, Tom orders the basilisk to find her. It slithers off. “What’s wrong Myrtle? You don’t like my gift. I got him especially for you.” “You know I’m scared of basilisks!” Myrtle screams. Myrtle crawls up into a ball. She covers her eyes and shakes with fear. Myrtle starts to cry. The basilisk is practically on top of her. It’s saliva oozing from its mouth. “The basilisk will do whatever I tell it to do.” “Tell it to go away please,” Myrtle moans. “I promise I won’t bother you anymore. Just please make him go away.” “You’ve been a bad girl Myrtle. I have to punish you for that,” Tom says in his silky voice. “I already apologize for taking your book. I even brought it with me.” Myrtle says crawling over to the corner. “I saw what you wrote in the bathroom: Myrtle love Tom Marvolo Riddle. Do you think I could ever want you?” “I like you,” Myrtle says. “Why can’t you like me too?” Tom orders the basilisk closer. “You are a filthy mudblood. Do you really think I would have anything to do with you? You shouldn’t even be here.” Myrtle starts crying. “You are to stop spreading rumors about me. I will never be your friend.” The words burn in Tom’s throat. “Do you understand?” Myrtle whispers yes. The basilisk hisses. “I can’t hear you!’ “I said yes. Pl-e-a-s-e call him off! I’m begging you!” Myrtle pleads. Tom smiles. He’s enjoying torturing her. “One more thing where is the book you took from me?” “Here!” Myrtle cries. “Push it into the light.” Tom orders the basilisk away. Myrtle gets on her knees and pushes the book. Lestrange goes and retrieves it. Mrytle moves back into the shadows. “You are to tell no one about this book,” Tom orders. “Do you understand?” Tom orders the basilisk back. “Yes!!!” Myrtle screams. I’ll do whatever you want. I promise, I promise!!! I’ll do whatever you says.” Myrtle screams. “Remember my friend can find you wherever you are. Anytime I want. You are also not to tell anyone about our little talk. If you ever, I will send my basilisk to your dorm room while you sleep…” “Nooo!!” Myrtle screams. She shakes with fear. ”Then we understand each other. Now go before I change your mind.” Tom orders the basilisk back. It follows Myrtle to the door. She doesn’t stop running until she gets to Ravenclaw tower. “Finite Incantateum!” The basilisk disappears in a puff of smoke. Lestrange and Avery laugh.


Tom, Avery, and Lestrange come out of the shadows. “Did you see the look on Myrtle’s face when she saw the basilisk?” Lestrange says as he lights the torches. “She thought it was a real basilisk.” “Fear can make you believe an illusion is real. Merrythought said you should always use your opponent’s fear to your advantage.” Tom walks over and looks at the sinks. “Which on is it?” Avery and Lestrange rush over. They start looking too. “Here it is.” Avery points at the tap. Tom pushes him out of the way. He examines it closely. “Why would Salazar Slytherin put the entrance to his chamber in the girl’s bathroom?” Avery asks. “I doubt they had indoor plumbing back then. The castle has been altered number of times through the centuries. I wonder how the snake got on the tap.” Tom plays with the tap. It doesn’t work. “It does look like Slytherin’s snake. I wonder….” Tom stares at the tap. Only the true heir of Salazar Slytherin can open the Chamber of Secrets. He says open up in Parceltongue. As soon as the words escape his lips, the taps start glowing a brilliant white and spin. The sink moves, and then sinks out of sight. Avery and Lestrange shake with fear. The boys look down and see a large pipe wide enough for them to slide down. “Blimey!!!”

Disclaimer: Please make sure you have read the winning round one entry BEFORE reading this chapter.

Professor Albus Dumbledore prowls the fourth floor corridor looking for Tom Riddle. Dumbledore keeps a routine eye on Mr. Riddle. Although his fellow professors believe Tom to be a model student, Dumbledore knows better. He spots Tom walking out of the library. Dumbledore walks swiftly in that direction. His lavender robes billow behind him.

Tom notices Dumbledore out of the corner of his eye. What is he doing here? Tom wonders. Why can’t the old goat just leave me alone? He can’t prove anything. Dumbledore is just blowing hot air. That’s all. Tom ducks behind the suit of armour. Dumbledore rushes past him into the library. Tom uses a sticking charm to hide the book on the back of the suit of Armour. He sneaks back into the hall and walks in the opposite direction from the library. “Can I have a word with you Tom?” Dumbledore asks as he rushes out of the library. He catches up with Tom and grabs him by the shoulder. “Professor Dumbledore, I didn’t see you.” Tom makes excuses while he tries to break Dumbledore’s hold on him. “May I have a moment of your time?" Dumbledore swings Tom around. “If this is about my Transfiguration homework, I swear I did the homework myself. Melissa Breton doesn’t know what she’s talking about.” Tom says while he tries to stay calm and keep his mask in place. Dumbledore looks over his half-moon glasses. “No, your homework is excellent as always. I need to speak to you in private. Please come with me to my office.”

Professor Dumbledore lights the torches and fire. He motions for Tom to take a seat. Tom sits in one of the chairs in front of Dumbledore’s desk. Dumbledore sits down and pops a lemon drop in his mouth. “Lemon drop?” Dumbledore picks up the candy dish and offers Tom one. He picks out two and pops them in his mouth. Tom really doesn’t like these occasional conversations with Professor Dumbledore. He already knows the man doesn’t trust him, so what else is there to say. Tom doesn’t like that Dumbledore knows about his checkered past in the orphanage. He’s never been able to charm this professor the way he has the others. I wonder what he suspects me of this time. When is he ever going to give up? Professor Dippet never believes him. “Young Tom Riddle couldn’t do anything like that. The boy needs kindness and understanding Albus.” Ton sniggers remembering the last time Dumbledore had brought him to Professor Dippet’s office. When will Dumbledore accept that I’m the fair-haired boy around here? I can do no wrong.

Albus looks over his half-mooned glasses and watches Tom closely. “I imagine you’re wondering why I ask you to come here? Dumbledore asks. “Madame Hestus has informed me a number of books from the restricted section are missing. These books contain magic a student of your age should not be trying to perform. I have already brought this matter to the attention of Professor Dippet. What do you have to say for yourself Tom?” “I don’t know what you are talking about professor. I haven’t taken any books from the restricted section. Madame Hestus must be mistaken.” Tom remains calm, cool, and collected. Dumbledore isn’t buying his act. “Tom, I told you the day I met you at the orphanage that we would teach you how to control your magic here at Hogwarts. I also told you there would be severe consequences if you misused your magic or broke the rules.” Dumbledore studies Tom’s movements. He’s a blank slate as usual. “I remember Professor Dumbledore. I have worked very hard in all my classes. I want to learn everything I can about magic.” Tom tries very hard to avoid Dumbledore’s eyes. Professor Dumbledore takes a piece of muggle newspaper out of his top drawer. He hands it to Tom. “What do you know about this?” Dumbledore watches Tom closely for his reaction to the article.

Quote:

Prominent Little Hangleton Family Murdered

Three prominent members of the Little Hangleton Community were murdered in their home last night. Their maid found Tom Riddle, his wife, and son in the family drawing room this morning. The local authorities are with holding comment until an autopsy is performed. At the moment the deaths have been classified as of unknown origin. Foul play has not been ruled out. The Riddle’s maid said the bodies were in perfect condition. “If they had not been lying on the floor, I would have sworn they were asleep. Story continued on page 6.

Tom places the paper back on Dumbledore’s desk. He remains silent wondering how Dumbledore found out about a muggle murder in Little Hangleton. Dumbledore notices Tom’s ring. “Where did you get the ring?” Dumbledore asks his mind totally occupied with the stone in the ring. Tom notices Dumbledore’s interest and places his hands in his lap. “I didn’t steal it if that’s what you’re implying. I found it outside of the Three Broomsticks.” “May I see it?” Dumbledore asks. He extends his hand in anticipation. Tom hesitates. How can he recognize this ring? The Gaunts were uneducated. I doubt even Marvolo ever went to Hogwarts. Even the stone isn’t very valuable, so why is Dumbledore so interested in it? Tom has no choice. If he doesn’t let Dumbledore see it, he’ll get suspicious. If he does let him look at it, he’s liable to recognize it as possible Salazar Slytherin’s ring. Then he’ll really be suspicious. It’s a no win situation. Tom hands the ring over to Dumbledore.

Albus studies the ring closely. I’ve been searching for the Resurrection Stone for years, and Tom Riddle just lucks up and finds it on the streets of Hogsmeade. That cannot possibly be. There’s no way it can’t be the resurrection stone. It has the symbol of the Deathly Hallows engraved on it. Part of me wants to demand Tom to tell me the truth. The other part knows if I do, he’ll probably get rid of the ring. I can’t let that happen.
Dumbledore is sure of one thing. Tom does not know what he has. Albus hands the ring back to Tom. “That’ s an interesting ring you have Tom.” He puts the ring back on his ring finger. “Thank you sir, may I ask why you showed me that article? Is it normal for wizards to keep up with the going ons in a small English village?” Tom tries to look curious and sincere at the same time. He also slips the ring in his robe pocket. The less said about it the better. Dumbledore holds his hands together near his nose, and stares at Tom over his half-moon glasses. “I find it important to keep up with what goes on in the muggle as well as wizarding world. You never know when something that happens in one world may affect the other. I believe Tom Riddle, Jr. was your father.” Dumbledore waits for some kind of reaction from Tom. He remains stone faced and silent. Tom cringes at the use of Tom Riddle and father in the same sentence. Tom was sure of one thing. Tom Riddle had never been a father to him. “What makes you think that?” Tom asks in a cold unfeeling voice. “Your mother requested the people at the orphanage name you Tom Riddle after your father. It was her last request,” Dumbledore says. “I have been unable to find the name Riddle in any of the books on Wizarding families I’ve looked at. Filthy mudblood! How could my mother name me after him? I loathe that name. That’s why I created a new one for me. One that will strike terror in the hearts of wizards some day. “Riddle is a common name in the muggle world, but Marvolo is an unusual name even in our world.” Dumbledore looks closely for Tom’s reaction. He’s sure Tom would put everything together by now. “The Riddles were murdered Tom by someone from our world. Your uncle, Morphin Gaunt confessed to killing him. Morphin has a long history of attacking muggle. Tom Riddle was one of his favorite victims. Morphin’s sister, Merope, was in love with Tom. I’ve found a marriage licence for them.” Dumbledore goes through a stack of papers on the side of his desk. He pulls out an official looking document. “They were married for at least a year when you were born. Your father apparently deserted her when she first became pregnant. I thought you would be interested. Madame Hestus has told me you’ve been looking for information on your parents for some time now. Professor Dumbledore waits for Tom’s reaction. Tom stares off in space. “I was just curious. Wouldn’t you want to know about your parents? It’s human nature.” Dumbledore thinks Tom protests too much. “I mean no one has ever inquired after me. I wanted to find out who he was, so some day I could confront him and find out why he didn’t want me for his son. Since when has that been a crime?” Tom doesn’t like this line of questioning. It’s none of Dumbledore’s business.
Is there anything else? I do have to do my patrols.” “That’s everything. Remember to watch the Restricted Section. I don’t want anymore students borrowing books without permission.” Dumbledore notices the ring missing from Tom’s finger. Tom walks out in silence and slams the door behind him. Dumbledore goes over to one of his bookcases. He takes out a thick tomb and immediately turns to a specific page. The name, Perverell, appears prominently at the top of the page.

Tom walks down the fifth floor hall heading for the stairs. He runs into Lestrange. “Voldemort, what happened? Did Professor Dumbledore get the book?” Lestrange asks between pants. “Don’t call me that!” Tom hisses. “Someone might hear you. How did you know where to find me?” Tom takes Letrange over to a deserted corner. “When you didn’t come back to the common room, Avery and I got worried. I went to the library, and Myrtle couldn’t wait to tell me Dumbledore had caught you red handed. Tell me Dumbledore doesn’t have the book.” “No I was able to hide it. It’s stuck to the back plate of the suit of Armour near the library. If Myrtle saw me with Dumbledore, she probably saw me hide the book. I can’t get it now. Dumbledore is already suspicious of me.” “No problem, I’ll go and get it,” Lestrange offers. “You wait for me in the common room.” Lestrange returns to the common room empty handed. “Where’s the book,” Tom demands it. “It was gone. I found this where you said the book would be.” Lestrange hands Tom a note. He reads it.

Quote:

I have what you are looking for. Come to my office. We have a lot to discuss.

Professor Slughorn

“What are you going to do?” Lestrange asks. Tom sets the letter on fire. She drops it on the ground and watches it burn. “I’m going to go and see Slughorn.” “Are you sure that’s a good idea, Lestrange asks. It’s one thing to terrorize the mudbloods, but Slughorn is a professor. Lestrange wants no part of terrorizing him. “I haven’t got much choice. He has the book. I have to get it back.” Tom leaves. He makes his way to Slughorn’s office and knocks on the door. “Come in Tom. I’ve been waiting for you,” Slughorn says. Tom goes in and closes the door.

Disclaimer: Please make sure you have read the winning round one entry BEFORE reading this chapter.

Myrtle had been closer to the truth than Tom was comfortable with-spot on actually. That, more than anything else, irked him constantly. For a person like her to realise his greatest fear, it was unforgivable. Tom frowned deeply, clutching ‘Secrets of the Darkest Art’ tighter to his chest. She’d seen the title, that incessant excuse for life had seen the title. Perhaps she would not put two and two together. If she did, Tom was confident that she would come to gloat before she told on him. Then she would be sorry.

Tom flitted into an empty classroom off the sixth floor corridor. He settled into a desk at the back and opened the wondrous book again. Myrtle had been right; Tom hated the idea of his death. Even his witch mother died. Tom’s upper lip curled away from his teeth in disgust. She was weak; but he wouldn’t be. He would never die. Tom would make sure of that. He absently stroked a page of the book, not concentrating on what was in front of him. Death-it was pointless...it was weak.

It was this hatred of death that had led Tom to the Restricted Section of the library. He had been searching for something to save him, and he now knew that it would be the Dark Arts; normal magic was too weak to attempt immortality. When Tom had found the ‘Secrets of the Darkest Art’ he could feel his greatest hopes were within his grasp. His latest piece of ‘art’ had been more truthful than he had intended. The broken splinters of wood in him would be healed by the blackness.

Tom let his eyes wonder over the page lazily until three words caught his eye: immortality, granted and murder. His interest was captured instantly; Tom leaned over the book, a hungry glint in his eyes.

A fortnight ago, Tom had hesitantly asked Professor Slughorn about horcruxes. The look of terror on the old man’s face had been a satisfactory reaction, and Tom had been able to glean from him that murder was involved. So he had found it then.

His eyes sped over the words on the page, the glint in them glowing almost red in the dim light. Tom threw composure to the wind; his features twisted into a longing, almost terrifying expression. It didn’t suit him. He gripped the book; the black stone in his ring seemed to pulse against his skin.
It was all here! All that he had ever wanted was right here! Immortality was within his reach-within Voldemort’s reach- for Tom no longer accepted the name of his filthy mudblood father. Now he could create true art, against the canvas of the world, with his own soul. Tom’s lips curved upwards in an unpleasant grin.

He formed the incantation with his lips, whispering it to the empty classroom. The air seemed to cool. Slytherin’s last heir would live forever. All he needed now was a soul to take and a place to keep it. Tom shut ‘Secrets of the Darkest Art’ with a snap and left the room, a red glint in his eyes.

*


“Ooooh! I found the strangest thing today!” Myrtle said cheerily, taking the seat opposite Tom before he could destroy it.

The library was almost empty today; Tom had expected to be left alone. How wrong he was.
“Oh?” he said in a monotone, not even glancing up from his book.

“Studying again? Transfiguration, I expect? The homework was quite tricky but I got it quickly enough.”

Tom didn’t reply. He glared at Myrtle, obviously wanting to be by himself.
“I finished it in an hour,” he said.

“Oh! Well, I thought so!” Myrtle gave Tom a smug look.

She seemed to think he was interested in what she thought. He didn’t, and he said so.

“I really do not care what you think and I would appreciate it if you left.”

“Oh, Tom! You’re very snappy today!” She grinned at him. “If I left you wouldn’t hear what I’ve found! It’s so very strange! I bet even Olive Hornby has never noticed it.”

“-I assure you-“

“-well, I’ve just been in the Second Floor girls’ bathroom...oh don’t make that face! I was washing up when my glasses fell off. Happens all the time, I’ve fixed them at least twenty times now. Well, anyway, I was trying to find them, and of course I was blind so I was leaning in real close.”

Myrtle screwed up her chubby face and leaned closer to Tom. He immediately pushed his chair farther away from the desk, his lips pursing together in distaste. The nerve! How Tom would like to kill her! He gripped the book tighter, an idea forming quickly in his mind. He could literally kill two birds with one stone. Tom smiled, imagining life without her. Myrtle mistook his expression for interest and immediately became more animated.

“That’s when I saw something poking out from the side of the tap. It looked very strange- blurry and all- so when I found my glasses I looked again. Guess what I found!” Myrtle demanded, beaming at knowing something Tom didn’t.

Tom decided to humour her, for once, “I don’t know. Please, tell me.”

Myrtle grinned, overjoyed that he’d asked. She would have told him anyway, but it was nice all the same. Tom marvelled at how pig-like she looked when she smiled. Another reason to kill her...the ugly hag.

“There was this little bitty snake scratched into the side of the tap. It looked fantastically real!”

Tom leaned forwards, suddenly interested. Of course, the snake was Slytherin’s symbol. Could this...bathroom really be the entrance to the infamous Chamber of Secrets? Tom had carried out a so far fruitless five-year search for the Chamber, and now...could it possibly be this?
“Which tap was it, again?” he asked, interrupting Myrtle as she droned on about the detail of the snake.

She pushed her glasses up to the bridge of her nose, “The end one. Why would you want to know that? “ Her eyes narrowed as she looked at Tom, “You’re not planning to check are you?”

“Of course not!” Tom said as though that was the most ludicrous thing in the world.

Myrtle seemed satisfied.
“Oh, no! There’s Olive!” she exclaimed suddenly.

Tom was pleased by the look of horror on her face.

“See you soon Tom!” Myrtle said before hurrying out to the exit.

Tom didn’t reply; he was thinking-plotting really. If he could get into the Second Floor Girls’ Bathroom without being noticed, his search for the Chamber of Secrets may finally be over. Tom walked out of the library, his book under his arm.

*


Tom stealthily slipped into the Girls’ Bathroom. If he was caught, he could talk himself out of trouble. It had been a mere five minutes since Myrtle had told him about the snake. Tom simply couldn’t let this chance slip by. He was a prefect; anyone would believe that he’d gotten a tip off about stink bombs. Yes...everyone except that imbecile Dumbledore. No matter, Tom had old Armando Dippet eating out of his palm.

He made for the end sink, running over the conversation he had had with Myrtle. She was more useful than he gave her credit for. Now...where was that snake? Tom touched the copper taps gently. Could this really be the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets?

Tom pursed his lips together slightly in his concentration. He leaned over the sink and examined the knobs on the ancient taps. Nothing there. His fingers caressed the copper, searching silently along the sides of the taps. Tom suddenly became aware of something engraved in the copper of the tap. Excellent.

He scrutinized the tiny engraving, a glint of red in his eyes. It almost looked real. It was a light scratching on the surface of the copper, the snake was barely visible in the dim light of the bathroom.
“I am the heir of Slytherin.” Tom whispered, excitement causing his voice to break.
Nothing happened. Tom’s nostrils flared; he jerked his head to the side. The movement made the snake appear to have moved. It made the snake seem real.
“Open!” Tom cried in agitation. The word came out as a strange hissing noise, as though the snake itself was speaking to him.

Suddenly, the copper tap began to glow with a brilliant white light and started to spin. A second later, the sink itself had dropped out of sight, leaving a large pipe exposed on the floor of the bathroom. This was it. It had to be the Chamber of Secrets! Without another thought, Tom slid down into the pipe.

Disclaimer: Please make sure you have read the winning round one entry BEFORE reading this chapter.

The usual unflappable Tom Riddle was seething and spitting mad. Like a viper whose prey had escaped its grasp. His anger was rolling off him in dangerous waves that the librarian recoiled back from him as he left the library. Myrtle had cracked his armor and he wasn’t going to stand for it. She had to die.

His name kept ringing in his ears with her annoying little voice. He resounded right then and there to drop his filthy muggle name for good. “Fat little mudblood,” he seethed. The plan was already forming in his head as he walked down the corridor. He had the prefect end to Myrtle. He just had to find it first. Since his first term at Hogwarts he had religiously devoured all magical books. And locked away in a false bottom in one of the shelves in the restricted section he had found Slytherin’s journal. Of course he had heard the rumors about a secret chamber, but he had to know if it was true, and the journal spoke candidly about it. It just never mentioned the location.

Since then he had been searching for it, and this was his 4th year. He had to find it. The thought of killing Myrtle filled with him such a glee that his whole body was humming, and his usually pale face was flushed with excitement. He was lost in his thoughts as the book was clutched to his chest as he made his way back to the only place he knew he would get some peace and quiet. The other students were smart to avoid him passed on the other side of the corridor as he walked.

Her words had touched a part of him that he didn’t want to even think about. Other than the fact that she was able to read him like a open book annoyed him to no end of the earth. He kept himself distant from everyone and everything. Yet that four eyed hefty trollop had called him out.

But he had been thinking about it.

Death…

He didn’t want to die.

That was a sign of weakness.

Just like his stupid mother.

A witch and she allowed herself to die, and left him in that hellhole of a disgusting place crawling with muggle scum. He looked up and snarled as a startled first year girl who burst into tears and went careening down the corridor back in the direction she had come from. That gave him a little satisfied smirk.

“Tom” he cringed and stopped in his tracks. He usually tried to make sure no professors were around when he let out that side of himself.
He knew the voice before he turned around. He however didn’t both to the let the disgusted look on his face slid as he turned to face Professor Dumbledore.

“Sir,” he sneered. Dumbledore was the only professor that had seen the dangerous side of him. He could usually charm his way through anything and everyone, but Dumbledore wasn’t that easy to fool. So why even bother with pretenses? They were too hard to maintain and frankly that idiot fat freak Myrtle had used up his patience.

Professor Dumbledore however smiled at Tom over the top of his half moon glasses. "Is something the matter?" He asked with guarded concern.

Tom's hands balled into a fist and he had to count to 10 before he answered. He hated people asking about him, or thinking he needed any sort of help with anything. He was the best student in this school. "No sir," he said tightly. "If there is nothing else," He didn't wait for an answer as he turned on his heels and headed back the way he had come.

The corridor seemed to swell and expand with his rage. First Myrtle and then Dumbledore. If he believed in anything but himself he would put money on the fates conspiring against him. "Decrepit wenches," He growled about the fates.

His anger and his rage all went out the window when a large fur covered spider rounded the corner running down the corridor, the giant spider bowled him over and his book went flying.

His head smacked the stone floor with a nice resounding crack and the world went black.

Disclaimer: Please make sure you have read the winning round one entry BEFORE reading this chapter.

Tom was back in the library the next day, hoping for a little peace and quiet. The Slytherin common room had been so noisy. Most of the students were loudly celebrating Slytherin winning the quidditch cup over Gryffindor, an event which hadn’t occurred for nearly fifty years, and the party never seemed to end. Students were drinking butterbeer and loudly reliving each and every play of the game blow by blow, all of this interspersed by cheers and whistles. Tom could care less about quidditch, he only craved a quiet place to read his book.

Unfortunately for Tom, he had only been in the library for a few minutes before his thoughts were rudely interrupted by that same preposterous tittering sound he had first encountered the day before. He groaned inwardly, then slammed his book together loudly, hoping to startle the ridiculous creature who stood so boldly before him once again. It figured, no such luck as the girl stood her ground once again, not even flinching at the loud sound of the book being banged shut.

“You really aren’t much of a gentleman, are you?”, Myrtle preened. Tom couldn’t help but notice that she had her chubby fingers clutched tightly around a muggle magazine, a glossy tome which featured a strikingly beautiful brunette on the cover.

“Isn’t she pretty?”, Myrtle giggled, noticing Tom’s glance light on the magazine for just that one second. It was obvious that Myrtle wanted to emulate this beautiful woman, but her feeble attempts at imitation had failed miserably. She was a complete and utter mess. “That’s Vivian Leigh. She’s going to play the role of Scarlett O’Hara in Gone with the Wind. I can’t wait till that movie comes out, it’s going to be the most spectacular film that Hollywood has ever produced.”

Tom thought to himself how he would love nothing more than to see the Ravenclaw intruder gone with the wind permanently. My, she had an unhealthy interest in muggle things. She was probably muggleborn herself, he shuddered with revulsion. “I could care less,” Tom replied blithely, barely glancing at the creature.

For once there was no answer, as several minutes passed with no witty retort from Myrtle. Just as Tom thought that she was finally about to leave and he would have silence at last, Myrtle suddenly cocked her head to one side and stared at him unabashedly, edging even closer to him all the while. He would have laughed out loud if he hadn’t been so angry, she looked so utterly ridiculous.

“What is wrong with you?”, Tom hissed at her, sheer loathing etched all over his face. “You’re the weirdest girl I’ve ever seen!”

“What?”, Myrtle recoiled, clearly startled by Tom’s reaction. “Why, I was just noticing that you look a little bit like Clark Gable. It’s funny I didn’t see the resemblance before, I’m usually pretty good at that kind of thing.” As she said the name a dreamy expression lit her face and stars appeared in her eyes, visible even through the thick lenses of her glasses.

“Clark who?”, Tom retorted scornfully. “No, don’t even bother explaining, for I truly don’t care.”

“Clark Gable would never treat a lady the way you do, nor would Bogie, for that matter. They’re real gentlemen, both of them, totally unlike yourself,” Myrtle blinked at Tom.

At the mention of the word Bogie, Tom remembered what Myrtle had confessed to him yesterday about her boggart, and imagined a basilisk striking her down with its gaze. What pleasure that would give him, to hear her cackle silenced forever. “Good, then go after them and leave me alone!”, Tom muttered angrily.

“If only I could,” Myrtle sighed. “I would give anything to be near either one of them.” She paused, a worried expression suddenly crossing her face and making her appearance even more unattractive to Tom. “Do you know what Olive Hornby said to me today?”, she queried nervously.

“How many times do I have to tell you to shut up!,” Tom snarled. She was really getting on his nerves now. He clenched his fists tightly, his fingernails digging into his palms, wanting so badly to reach for his wand and obliviate her. It wouldn’t matter, no one would ever find out or care. Did she not ever get the message that her company was not wanted? For a Ravenclaw, this girl was pretty dense. How on earth did Ravenclaw ever get a reputation for being so smart when they had someone as thick as this in their house?

Tom’s eyes widened as Myrtle responded to his request that she shut up by spontaneously plopping herself down in the chair right next to him, muggle magazine and all. She really was dense, if anything she was getting even bolder now. “Oh yes, you are a true gentleman, you are,” she quipped. “By the way, I know what it is, that thing you’re looking for. I can get it for you, you know. I can help you.” Her voice was barely above a whisper now as she looked directly into Tom’s eyes, completely unafraid to meet his cold, steely gaze.

“What on earth are you going on about?”, Tom asked. There was something about the way those words had been spoken that couldn’t help but make him feel intrigued, almost mesmerized in spite of the fact that the most pathetic girl he had ever seen was saying them.

“Oh, I know all about the secret thing you’re searching for,” Myrtle sang out, standing up and beginning to dance around the table in a clumsy, almost maniacal way. “You’re looking for a way to cheat death, aren’t you, Tom? Well, I know all about that!” She puffed her chest out, looking for a moment like a foolish, bloated rooster.

The words hung in the air between them, the way she had said them, as if they were nothing. Tom couldn’t possibly let her see his mounting excitement, how could she possibly have known what he was looking for, as he had told no one. His thoughts were a secret to all but himself and he trusted absolutely no one. This girl was strange, there could be no doubt about that as he put the book under his arm and stood up, facing her directly for the first time since the two had met the other day and looking at her, really looking at her as if it was the first time he had really seen her, which in a way it was. She couldn't possibly know anything about cheating death, could she?

"Well, what do you think, Tom?", Myrtle whined, her voice bringing him back to reality once again.

“I think you and I should go for a little walk”, Tom said, suddenly making a quick decision as he took the repugnant girl by the arm and began to lead her towards the door of the library. Tom wanted to hear more about this thing Myrtle was teasing him with, and he wasn’t about to let her go now.