Severely nettled by the teasing that had followed him since the impromptu poetry recital, Harry retired to his room before anyone else in his dormitory that night. Finally in quiet solitude, Harry sighed with relief and sprawled out on his four-poster, eyeing the diary with renewed curiosity. Ron had insisted he was wasting his time, but Harry wasn’t convinced; though all his things had been drenched in ink during the earlier scuffle with the dwarf, Riddle‘s diary was now spotless.

A thought formed itself in Harry’s mind as he recalled this. He fetched a new bottle of ink out of his bedside cabinet, dipped his quill into it, and dropped a blot onto the first page of the diary. As he had partly expected, the stain disappeared into the parchment page. Dipping his quill again, albeit with much more excitement than the first time, he wrote one line.

A moment passed before a reply oozed from the page.

~

Harry reiterated what I already knew, and I waited patiently, to maintain the ruse that I was a complete innocent. I led him in with mystery, and promise of adventure. I told him cryptically that things had happened before his time, in this very school, that had been covered up due to the shame they had brought on the institution. But he was not as much interested in the sordid details, as he was in finding information about the Chamber of Secrets that would serve to help save more Muggle-borns from harm.

So I told him, though in my version I made myself out to be the hero, just as I had back when The Chamber had been originally opened. Purposefully leaving loose-ends, I only had to offer a first-hand recreation of the night fifty years ago for him to accept being brought into my world. Harry Potter was undoubtedly brave, but he was also very foolish.
What I showed him was the furthest from the truth, but the closest I could get to achieving my means. The first step was gaining Harry Potter’s trust. Through appealing to his own past, showing my plea to the headmaster for summer lodging at Hogwarts, forwarding an explanation for why I would take measures into my own hands, and lastly thrusting the blame on another, ultimately had the young Gryffindor eating from my palm.

~

Harry could empathize with what Tom did, even if it did mean having Hagrid expelled. Over the next few days, as he ran the diary’s scene over in his head, Harry could see more of himself in Tom. Put in the same situation, Harry doubted he would have acted any differently.

Sitting on his bed, Harry idly twirled the diary between his index fingers. He couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was he wanted to ask Tom, but he knew seeing the other boy would ease the nagging voice in the back of his mind, though Harry was unsure how he should begin. He gnawed on the end of his quill thoughtfully.

Tom?

He watched as the words disappeared and reformed.

Harry jotted the first thing that came to his mind.

The answer took longer than any other Tom had ever given, which was curious to Harry. He had expected a yes or no response, and couldn’t fathom what Tom would be mulling over. Slowly, words scrawled over the page.

Harry shrugged out of habit.

“You’re closer to it than you would have ever suspected.”

Harry nearly leaped out of his skin. He spun around, wide-eyed, and faced the same boy he had watched a mere two days before. In Harry’s reality, Tom seemed completely out of place; his dated clothes and spectral glow had Harry floundering for several moments. Finally, he found his voice. “Tom- Tom Riddle?”

A smile graced Tom’s already handsome face. “I thought you might need some… Personal assistance.”

Harry finally looked away, finding himself oddly pressed for breath. Tom was sitting where the diary had last been, directly beside Harry. Though he itched to move away from such close quarters, he forced himself to remain put; the last thing Harry wanted to do was offend the older boy. Curling his fingers into the bead spread to keep from fidgeting, Harry explained his side of the story. “Actually, yes… People generally think I’m nuts when I say this, but… I… Um… Keep hearing voices, like from inside the walls.”

Tom’s eyes widened, and Harry immediately regretted divulging that piece of information. But Riddle’s expression wasn’t one of mocking, nor was it one of muted concern for Harry’s sanity. It was the same inquisitive and calculating stare that Snape had graced him with after the duels. Harry shivered. Much to his relief, Tom finally broke the silence.

“And what do you think this has to do with the Chamber of Secrets?” He asked, his voice soft and curious, betraying no ill intention.

“Well, I…” Harry frowned, he hadn’t really thought about exactly how the two were connected. All he knew was when rumors of The Chamber had surfaced, so had the murderous voice. “I don’t know.” He felt slightly daft for saying so, but again, Tom was nothing but understanding.

He nodded, smiling down at Harry. “You’re entirely right, Harry.” He leaned forward, his body language secretive. “In fact, I heard voices too, the first time this happened.”

Harry could feel Tom’s light breath rustling the hair around his face, and could sense the warmth of the other boy, despite the fact he wasn’t quite real. Nervously, he looked away, wringing the cloth between his fingers with more force. There was something in the striking cerulean of Tom’s eyes, and the older boy’s complete disregard for personal space, that unnerved Harry greatly. He wondered what was keeping him rooted to the spot; surely it couldn’t be simple fear of offending Tom. After all, he had just ascertained there was no further information to be gained from him.

Noting the way his Gryffindor companion was avoiding catching eyes, Tom grinned, moving even closer. “I hope you know I’ve been waiting quite some time to meet you, Harry.”

At this, Harry looked up. “R-Really? How did you know…”

Riddle nodded. “Everybody knows who you are, Harry Potter. Though I’m sure you hate to hear me say it.”

Harry was impressed at Tom’s astuteness, but remained silent, not trusting his voice.

Slipping a finger under Harry’s chin, Tom turned the boy’s head to face him. “… I must admit, I didn’t expect you to be so quiet.”

Now looking squarely at him, Harry forced himself to meet eyes with Tom. From the warmth the prickled his cheeks, Harry knew he was blushing, and hoped that Tom wouldn’t take his reaction the wrong way. At any other time, Harry knew he would be mortified by this turn of events, but something about Tom calmed his trepidations.

Pleased he had distracted Harry from the awkward topic of his own knowledge in regards to The Chamber, Tom put on his most charming smile. There would be plenty of time to defeat Harry Potter in the future, but presently, he had set sights on an entirely different goal. After all, winning a battle of blades or wit was not the only way to claim dominance over a foe.

Harry wasn’t quite sure when his mind had deviated toward a path he had seldom thought of before. He was beginning to suspect that Tom was taking an interest in him, and with the elder boy’s hand still cradling the side of his face to keep their gazes locked, Harry expected at any moment he would be kissed. The thought didn’t terrify him as much as he thought it should have. Something intrinsic and internal was commanding him to stay. And he did, with Tom hovering a mere inches away from him, smiling in a way that made Harry’s stomach flutter uncertainly. It seemed as if Tom had been studying him for hours.

Unable to bare the silence any longer, Harry spoke. “Tom, I-” But he was cut off before his mind could form even the slightest idea of how he would object.

Tom placed his index finger over Harry’s lips, still wearing a leering grin, his calculating stare never leaving Harry’s eyes. Unaccustomed to such intimate contact with others, even in a non-romantic way, Harry was completely at a loss of how to act. He sat mutely, reveling in the soft electric warmth that radiated from the few places he had direct contact with Tom. Harry had to admit, even if it was simply a private thought, that there was a certain exhilarating novelty to his predicament. He both dreaded and waited with bated breath for Tom’s lips to meet his own.

As if reading his mind, Tom angled his head, and closed the small space remaining between them.

Being starved for contact as he was, Harry melted into the embrace. Though he was unsure and awkward, he simply followed Tom’s lead, wrapping his arms around the other boy’s neck, placated by the real warmth he held. When Tom parted his lips, snaking his tongue into Harry’s mouth, the young Gryffindor reciprocated slowly, after getting over his initial shock. It felt good, and the last thing he wanted was for Tom to let go.

Though he hadn’t expected any resistance because of his influence over Harry, Tom was extremely pleased with how things were proceeding. Harry was going along with every advancement he made, and with only minimal magical intervention. Moving to caress the younger boy’s neck, Tom made fast work of divesting him of his cloak and shirt. Tom chuckled at Harry’s clumsy attempts to mimic him and remove his own robes, but allowed him to continue. He was in no hurry, in fact, drawing out his dominance over Harry would only be that much sweeter.

The longer he spent with Tom, the less Harry felt he was completely connected to his body. Though he was completely aware of everything happening to him, his own movements seemed pre-programmed, but he didn’t have conscious thought of doing anything else; his mind was in too much of a haze to form any independent objection. The only sensation that crept through the fog that had settled over Harry’s brain was the pleasure he felt. It gave him reason not to ask questions, or to argue.

Tom leaned Harry back on the bed, pinning him by the wrists. Harry only looked up at him blearily.

“Do you know what I’m going to do to you, Harry?” He whispered, kissing his way down the boy’s chest to his belly. Harry mumbled vaguely, propping himself lazily up on his elbows to watch Tom through hooded eyes.

Tom grinned up at him as he slowly unbuckled Harry’s belt, absently asking himself what exactly made this boy so special. He was just as easily controlled as the next person, and even if it made his victory slightly less fulfilling, Tom knew it would be necessary to wipe Harry’s mind regardless.

“We can’t have you knowing all these little secrets of mine, can we, now?” He slipped off Harry’s pants.

Trying to still the dizzying effect Tom was having on him, Harry frowned. “What…?”

Tom smirked, straddling Harry’s now naked form, and leaned to whisper in his ear. “I opened the chamber of Secrets.” He murmured, watching Harry’s reaction to see how far gone the boy really was.

“Oh?” Was all the response Harry ventured.

With some amusement, Tom wondered if, perhaps, he should let up slightly, and allow Harry a little of his self control back.

Reality began to play at the edges of Harry’s misty vision, but just as he thought he could collect his array of scattered thoughts, Tom was kissing him again, and anything outside the boy’s warm lips on his own lost all significance. He could feel Tom’s hands run up under his thighs, the searing ten points of his fingertips holding Harry in place. He clung to Tom’s thin shoulders as the older boy eased two fingers within Harry.

Mind spinning, Harry fought to stay conscious through the numbness that was spreading over his brain. He was marginally aware of a pleasurable thrust and Tom’s tongue trailing his jaw line.

“Just relax.” He heard Tom mutter. “Doesn’t it feel good?”
Indeed, it felt exotic and arousing. Letting his misgivings go, Harry laid back, letting the waves of ecstasy consume him.

Harry awoke the next morning, completely naked, and cradling Riddle’s diary to his chest. This struck him as odd, seeing has he didn’t remember undressing or fetching the book. But he hadn’t been himself lately, either, so Harry didn’t pay it more thought than that. He simply got up, waited for his head to stop swimming, dressed, and stashed the diary back in his trunk.

Author’s notes: I find it hard to believe that Harry had this amazingly enchanted diary that could show him the past of the school he loves, yet he only wrote in it once then lost complete interest. It takes Ginny nearly a month to steal the thing back- which, in my most education opinion, gives Harry plenty of time to have a sordid little affair with Tom. Of course, he acts as if he’d never seen Tom’s apparition before once he’s in The Chamber, hence the oblivation.

Oh, and this could definitely lead in to why Harry was so deft at fending off the Imperious Curse in Book 4.