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Assistant: Title: Vitae Redux: Horcruxes
        Author: RiverXSong RiverXSong 
        Chapter: 14/24 
        Summary: Vitae Redux - Life AnewTen-year-old Harry Potter is in his final year of primary school, as friendless and alone as ever - his awful cousin Dudley sees to that. So when the new boy, Tom Riddle, offers to be his friend, Harry is thrilled. Soon, they are inseparable, and with Tom comes the revelation that Harry is special - he is magic. Soon, they're off to Hogwarts for the adventure of a lifetime, together.ORWhen part of Voldemort's soul gets an unexpected second chance at life, restored to his youth at age ten, the year before he went to Hogwarts and began his descent into the Dark Arts, he decides to use the opportunity to rise to power once more. His first priority, however? Making sure Harry Potter is safe, happy, and properly taken care of, even if he has to do it himself.Now translated into Brazilian Portuguese!  By Riddlxkjk
        Contents: Chapter 14: Dobby's Miscalculation
    

    


      
        
          Hi all! I'm so sorry this chapter is way off-schedule, I found out a week ago that more than half my office is being laid off, and I (might?) be one of them. I was a pretty miserable wreck for the next few days, and wasn't able to edit on time.We should be back to our regularly scheduled posting this weekend, however!Thank you for sticking with me <3
            
            (See the end of the chapter for  more notes.)
            
      
  

  
  
    
    The balmy days at the Weasley household came quickly to an end, and Tom found himself packing up once again. To his chagrin, Harry’s belongings had ended up scattered all over the Burrow, and he was quickly enlisted into the hunt across the house to find and collect every last wayward sock, quill, and schoolbook. Several items of clothing were found, predictably, in the laundry, Harry’s old spare glasses had somehow made their way into Ron’s little sister’s room, and his new Nimbus 2001, which Harry had bought as a Quidditch hopeful, was found, rather mysteriously, in the chicken coop.Finally, they were all packed, and it was time to depart. Molly Weasley met them in the kitchen, fussing over both boys and hugging them tightly in turn. “It’s been so wonderful having the two of you here – I hope you can return next summer,” she said, squeezing Tom far too tightly for his comfort. “I just wish the two of you weren’t headed off to spend the rest of your break with the Malfoys – particularly after that nasty fight between Arthur and Lucius.”“I know you don’t particularly like the Malfoys, Mrs Weasley,” Tom replied, finally breaking away from her stifling embrace, “but we’ve already accepted Draco’s invitation. It would be the  height  of impropriety to reject it now.”“Yes, yes,” Mrs Weasley said airily. “Pureblood notions of etiquette and propriety, of course. You sound just like my dear uncle Caspian, always fixated on manners and decorum. Had to write him a thank you letter for every gift he sent me – but I suppose I’m glad I did, he was a sweet old man beneath all those layers of Pureblood perfection.”She gave the two of them a long, searching look.“Right,” she said at last. “You two be careful now. The Malfoys may have disavowed their connections to You-Know-Who, but make no mistake – that family have spent their lives steeped in the Dark Arts. You boys find any trouble, you owl me straight away, you hear?”To the side, Tom could just make out Harry rolling his eyes. “We’re only going to Malfoy Manor to spend time with Draco,” Harry said, “not for a crash course in Dark magic. I appreciate the warning, though, Mrs Weasley. See you next summer, maybe?”Mrs Weasley nodded, somewhat tearily. “Of course, dear,” she said. “Now go on you two, you’ll be late. We don’t need to give the Malfoys yet another reason to sneer down their noses at us.”Tom nodded and grabbed a fistful of Floo powder from the pot Mrs Weasley was offering him and tossed it into the fire before stepping onto the grate.“Malfoy Manor!”The world spun around him, and a moment later he stepped into a lavish parlour, brightly lit and drenched in sunlight, a wide bay window looking out onto an expansive lawn. It was a bizarre feeling, ending up in a place that at once felt intimately familiar and brand new to him – a feeling he predicted he would experience with increasing frequency as he explored more of the wizarding world.The fire roared to life behind him, and he spun around just in time to catch Harry, who as always stumbled out rather inelegantly, soot in his hair.“I don’t know why I can’t quite get the hang of Floo travel,” Harry grumbled while Tom attended to the crown of his head. “Mind, it doesn’t help having to carry this trunk at the same time.”“Luckily, you’ll always have me to catch you on the other end,” Tom replied, and Harry’s cheeks were suddenly tinged with pink. “There, you’re presentable now. Are you ready to meet the Malfoy family,  properly this time?”Harry rolled his eyes again. “Merlin’s beard,” he muttered, “that whole scene in Diagon Alley  was  a bit of a nightmare, wasn’t it? You’d think Mr Weasley and Mr Malfoy could at least be civil around each other, if not for themselves than for their kids’ sakes.”They didn’t have long to wait for the Malfoys to make their appearance. Lucius appeared first, followed by Narcissa, and finally Draco, trailing along behind his parents and beaming when he spotted Harry and Tom.Tom stepped forward and inclined his head toward Draco’s father, smiling slightly at the irony of the situation and at the little shudder that ran through Lucius’ frame as Tom extended his hand. He took it, however, and gave a firm handshake. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr Malfoy,” Tom said in his most genial tone. “I cannot express how grateful I am that you’ve opened up your house to myself and Harry.”Lucius nodded. “Mr Riddle,” he acknowledged, his voice tight and features pinched. Harry stepped forward to repeat the gesture as Tom moved to the side to brush his lips against Mrs Malfoy’s knuckles, which Harry also copied. “I shall fetch a house-elf to bring up your belongings,” Narcissa said imperiously. “Please, be seated – tea will be served shortly.”Tom and Harry moved to sit on a long, delicately upholstered sofa, with Draco to their left, perched on an ottoman, and Mr and Mrs Malfoy in high-backed armchairs with a table between them. A moment later, a tiny elf scampered in carrying a tray far too big for it, piled with finger sandwiches and dainty petit fours, accompanied by an exquisitely crafted porcelain teapot and five matching cups. She set it on the table between the Malfoys and fled the room as quickly as she had appeared.“Draco,” Lucius snapped. “Feet off the furniture.” Draco, who had drawn up his legs to sit cross-legged on the ottoman scowled, but obeyed his father’s command. “So, the two of you have been staying with the  Weasleys, I believe?” There was just a hint of a sneer on his face, and Tom enjoyed watching the man struggle to reel in his distaste. Etiquette demanded that he not openly insult the family who had hosted Tom and Harry previously – after all, Tom had set the tone of their conversation with his initial formal introduction.“Oh yes,” Tom replied. “The Weasleys were such gracious hosts, though I confess I was overwhelmed by the sheer number of Ron’s siblings.” It wasn’t even close to a lie – the Burrow had been chaotic in comparison with serene Malfoy Manor, and there was always someone in his space, whether it was Fred and George trying to crack through his aloof demeanour with an endless string of practical jokes, Percy lecturing them on the benefits of keeping their knowledge sharp during the summer term (of which he was already quite aware, thank you very much), or little Ginny, glaring at him every time she caught Tom holding Harry’s hand or fussing over him.“Mm,” Harry hummed in agreement. “The Weasleys were lovely. I can’t wait to see them again – did Draco tell you they adopted me? At least according to Muggles, that is.”Narcissa’s tiny gasp and Lucius’ raised eyebrow told Tom that Draco had indeed  not  told his parents that little tidbit of information Harry had sent to him with Hedwig. Oh, this was a  perfect  opportunity to start dispelling this silly little blood-feud  and discredit Dumbledore at the same time.“That’s right,” Tom said gleefully. “Poor Harry was treated so terribly by his Muggle relatives, in the end even Dumbledore realised he had made the wrong choice in placing him with them. The Weasleys were so kind to take him in as one of their own. I can’t understand, though,  what  Dumbledore was thinking when he left Harry behind on their doorstep – he must’ve  known  they would never accept him.”“Don’t be so mean to Dumbledore,” Harry argued. “He made a mistake, we all do it.”“Perhaps,” Tom replied, glancing at Lucius Malfoy briefly, “but Dumbledore  does seem to make more than his fair share.”“You really are your father’s son, aren’t you?”It was a statement, not a question. Tom looked away from Lucius and down at his cup of tea, his gaze lost in its depths. He hesitated just long enough to sell the moment, to paint himself as the fatherless boy, troubled in his knowledge of from whom exactly he was descended.“Did you know my father, Mr Malfoy?” Tom asked, meeting his eyes again. Lucius, unaware that the twelve-year-old boy in front of him was a master Legilimens, did not trouble himself to mask his thoughts, and so Tom was able to see his apprehension, his doubt, and his failed loyalty. To anyone else watching, however, he was the perfect picture of composure and refinement.“I did,” Lucius said slowly. “Tell me, Tom – do you know exactly  who  your father was?”“If you refer to the fact that I am Voldemort’s progeny, then yes,” Tom replied. “I am well aware.”“I see,” said Lucius, his mask slightly shaken by Tom’s casual use of the Dark Lord’s name. “Yes, I knew your father. He attended Hogwarts the generation before mine, and was… good friends with  my father, who went on to become one of his earliest and most vocal followers. When I came of age, I was – quite forcibly, I assure you – entered into his ranks as well.”“You don’t subscribe to Voldemort’s ideology then, Mr Malfoy?” Tom asked, smiling innocently.Lucius hesitated. “It’s not necessarily a question of ideology, but of tactics,” he finally replied. “I agree with many of the Dark Lord’s policies, but as he rose to power he began resorting to methods which placed us out of favour in the eyes of the public.”“Yes, Draco told us some of this on the train home,” Tom said. “I can understand why one would not wish to support such an unnecessarily brutal takeover of the Ministry. I find it is far preferable to influence the direction of an organisation from the  inside, don’t you agree?”Lucius stared at him, and Tom read in his eyes his shock, taken aback as he was by this  child  who spoke with the words of a politician. “Y – yes,” he said softly. “Mr Malfoy, what was my father like? Tom asked, and Lucius blinked at the sudden shift in topic. “Before he became so violent, I mean.”Lucius shook his head. “I’m afraid I didn’t know him before he attempted to take the Ministry by force,” he replied. “However, as my father would tell it, he was viciously cunning and demanded strict loyalty from his followers – the Knights of Walpurgis, as they were called in those days. He controlled magic with merely a thought long before his peers could, and it was said to be a sight to behold – indeed, even in his later years the Dark Lord commanded such impressive feats of magic you forgot you were looking at a man and not in the presence of a god. However,” he amended, glancing at Harry, “it must be acknowledged that he was capable of supreme cruelty, even in his youth.”Tom had to fight to contain the gleeful laugh that was bubbling up within him – he hadn’t expected such a glowing and poetic description of his former self from a man who had all but turned his back on him. Perhaps Lucius, like his son, could be useful once more in his second rise to power. “He sounds impressive,” he said, “terrible crimes notwithstanding, of course. It’s a shame that he lost sight of his vision and, reportedly, his sanity. If not, we could be living in a very different world, and Harry would still have his parents.”“Indeed,” Lucius said faintly, rising from his seat. “Actually, if you would follow me, I have something to show you.”The three boys also stood, trailing behind Lucius Malfoy as he led them down a long stretch of corridor and into a study that clearly hadn’t been used in quite some time, going by the layer of dust across every surface. Lucius grimaced as they stepped inside, little clouds rising from the carpet under their shoes. “It appears the house-elves have been neglecting my father’s study again,” he drawled. “Mimsy!”With a pop, the tiny house-elf from earlier appeared in the study, looking rather distressed. “Yes, Master Malfoy, sir?” she squeaked, shivering.“This room is filthy,” Lucius admonished. “See that it’s put to right, immediately.”“Sir,” she said, wringing her hands, “that is being Dobby’s job, and Mimsy is not seeing him all day.”Harry’s eyes went wide and he glanced at Tom, mouthing, “Dobby!” Tom gave him a tiny nod.  Very  interesting, that the elf who had disobeyed its master to warn Harry of danger at Hogwarts just  happened  to belong to Lucius Malfoy. What exactly  was the old traitor up to?“That insubordinate little…” Lucius muttered. “Mimsy! Find Dobby and tell him he’s earned himself a week’s worth of punishments.” Harry winced – right, Harry, who had spent his entire life being pushed around and thrown into his cupboard and made to do the Dursleys’ chores, was  obviously  going to sympathise with the house-elves, and Lucius was notoriously cruel to them. It had never bothered Tom before, but if it bothered  Harry… Well, there was little he could do about it as he was, he would simply have to keep Harry as engaged as possible and far away from the man.As the house-elf popped back out of the room, Lucius turned to the desk in the middle of the room. “Right then,” he said. “Accio photograph!” From the middle drawer of the desk shot an old, slightly faded photo, which flew into Lucius’ outstretched hand. He stared at it for a moment before handing it over to Tom.It was slightly grainy, but the detail was still good. There was Tom, age eighteen, shoulder to shoulder and crowded into the frame with Abraxas Malfoy on their final day of school, next to the boats that were about to take them away from the castle for the last time. Abraxas was waving enthusiastically, eager to put his childhood behind and begin his adult life, whereas Tom looked more withdrawn, only the hint of a smile on his face.“My father,” Lucius explained, “and yours.”Harry and Draco peered over his shoulders to get a look for themselves. In his periphery, he could see both of their jaws drop simultaneously.“That’s  Voldemort?” Harry asked incredulously, at the same time that Draco said, “Tom, you look  exactly  like your father.”He ran his thumb over the photo, reminiscing – he could remember that day, the day everything had changed and he’d taken the wrong turn in life. He could have gone on to the Ministry, travelled the world, or gotten his mastery. Instead, denied the Defence Against the Dark Arts post at Hogwarts and with no backup plan in mind, he had taken a job as a shopkeeper and eked out a meagre existence while waiting for the right priceless artefact to fall into his hands. Abraxas, on the other hand,  had gone on to Ministry work, rising swiftly up the ranks due to his connections and family name. Abraxas Malfoy, the only one before Harry who had been anything close to what Tom might call a friend, a companion even, no longer thus, but a mere follower...“Mr Malfoy,” he said softly, “do you have a copy of this? I know it’s strange, with my father having been the Dark Lord, but…”“Keep it,” Lucius said. “It did not belong to me, but its owner is gone from this earth. And you should have something of your father, particularly from before he travelled down a dark and treacherous path.”Hours later, stretched out on one of the large, ridiculously opulent four-posters in the room Tom and Harry would be sharing for the next two weeks at Malfoy Manor, Harry brushed his hand over the photo, staring at eighteen year old Tom Riddle.“It really is incredible,” he said in a hush, “how much you resemble him. You could be twins, if he weren’t older than you.”“You  also  look incredibly like your father,” Tom pointed out.“Mmm,” Harry hummed in agreement. “Voldemort was so  handsome, though.”Tom smiled. “Are you saying you find  me  handsome, Harry?”Harry blushed furiously, only making Tom’s smile widen further. Merlin, he was so  pretty  when he was flustered.“I – I just mean,” Harry stammered, with all the grace and subtlety of a fledgling bird, “that I wonder what happened. That  face on the back of Quirrell’s head…” he trailed off and shuddered.Tom shrugged. “The Dark Arts, I assume,” he said, schooling his expression into something of a grimace. “He probably did some foolish ritual one too many times without considering the consequences.”“You think?” Harry asked. “I didn’t know Dark magic could change your appearance like that. I mean, Quirrell himself looked relatively normal, aside from the face on the back of his head. Voldemort, though…”“Voldemort was literally called the  Dark Lord, Harry,” Tom yawned. “He probably had ten times the experience with Dark magic that Quirrell had. Now, you need to get to bed – your  own  bed, Harry – the Malfoys are going to expect a sense of decorum that the Weasleys don’t care about, and that means sleeping separately.”“But – if I have another nightmare?”“Then I’ll hold you until it’s over, and you can do the same for me,” Tom replied. “But come morning, we  must be in our own beds when the house-elves come to wake us.”“Fine,” Harry said unhappily, hopping out of Tom’s bed and crossing the room to his own. “‘Night, Tom.”“‘Night, Harry.”Harry awoke, blinking hard in the dark, to a gentle yet incessant patting against his arm.“Alright, alright,” he said, his voice thick with sleep. “I’m up, Tom, wha'd'ya want?”“Shh!” whispered a vaguely familiar, rather squeaky voice. “Harry Potter must be quiet and come with Dobby. He does not know the danger he is in!”“Dobby!” Harry hissed, suddenly awake. “What are you on about now? I’m not in any danger.”“No, no,” the elf lamented. “Harry Potter is in more danger than he ever could have imagined. Come, you must escape with me, sir – before He Who Must Not Be Named –”“Voldemort?!” Harry whispered fiercely, interrupting Dobby. “He’s back  again?”“Please, sir, Harry Potter must keep his voice down,” Dobby begged, “before He Who Must Not Be Named is awoken.” He waved a hand toward the other side of the room, where Tom slept,“Wait, Dobby,” Harry said. “You don’t mean  Tom, do you?”Dobby nodded fervently. “Dobby has served the Malfoys for many years and seen many things. Dobby  recognises  him, sir – he is the same boy Dobby once served a glass of champagne at Master Abraxas’ birthday. He is here to kill Harry Potter!”Harry laughed, causing Dobby to squeak in fear. “Sorry Dobby,” he said. “I’m not laughing at  you, it’s just – Tom’s not Vol – sorry, You-Know-Who, he’s just –”“Harry?” Tom whispered through the darkness, roused by Harry’s laughter. “Harry, what’s going on?”“It’s Dobby again, he’s –”“You shall not harm Harry Potter!” Dobby cried, leaping onto Harry’s bed and placing himself between him and Tom.“...Harm?” Tom asked, bewildered, flicking his lamp on. “Why would I ever harm  Harry?”“Dobby knows who you are!” the elf declared, pointing at Tom. “You has lured Harry Potter here to be killed, even before terrible things happen at Hogwarts. You are He Who Must –”Tom broke out into laughter, effectively cutting Dobby off. “Really,” he gasped. “You think I’m  Voldemort? Isn’t he quite a bit older than me?”“Tom!” Harry cried. “Don’t make fun. It’s just that Dobby met your father once, and he seems to think you’re him.”Dobby whipped around to stare at Harry. “His  father? ” he boggled. “Oh, no, Mr Tom,” he cried, flinging himself off of Harry’s bed and landing on his hands and knees before Tom’s. “Dobby is so sorry, he was so sure Tom was He Who Must Not Be Named reborn. Dobby never even considered he is having a son.” He leaned forward and smashed his tiny head into the floor. “Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby!”Harry’s eyes went wide in alarm and he leapt from his bed as well, hauling Dobby up and away from the floor, holding him tightly by the shoulders. “Dobby, you made a mistake,” he said, “but you haven’t hurt anyone. I don’t care what Mr Malfoy says,  please  stop punishing yourself.” Dobby slowly went still in Harry’s grip until he was only shivering, and when Harry released him he did not try again to hurt himself. “Thank you,” Harry breathed.“Dobby,” said Tom. “I know you travelled to Harry’s house – I won’t tell, I promise – to warn him of grave danger at Hogwarts should he return. Tell me, is Mr Malfoy planning something?”Dobby shivered violently, though he stayed rooted to the spot, shaking his head. “Dobby can’t say! Dobby mustn’t!”“I will take that as a yes,” Tom replied. “And you told Harry that it did  not  have to do with Voldemort, yes?”Dobby winced at the name, but shook his head again. “No, not  He Who Must Not Be Named, sir.” Those were the same words he had used when he appeared the first time in Harry’s bedroom.Tom’s eyes narrowed. “That’s an odd way to answer a simple yes or no question,” he said slowly. “Dobby, to your knowledge, are there any  other rising figures to whom my father’s former followers might be drawn?”“Not that Dobby is aware of, sir,” he replied.“Alright then…” Tom tapped his chin, humming thoughtfully. “Dobby,” he finally said, “is Harry  specifically in danger, or is it a general threat?”“All who is in the walls of Hogwarts this year be in danger.”“Then why warn only Harry?”Dobby bounced on the b@lls of his toes, his ears flapping wildly. “Because Harry Potter is too important to lose, sir!”“While I agree,” Tom replied, “I don’t think Harry appreciates his life being protected while others remain in danger.” Harry nodded his head in agreement. “Is there anything you can tell us that will help us  prevent Hogwarts being in danger?”Dobby shook his head wildly, stopped, and began nodding just as vehemently, his eyes wide. “The diary, sir!” he exclaimed. “You have to find the diary!” For a single moment, Harry  swore  he saw a look of understanding mixed with horror on Tom’s face, but then it was gone, replaced with a frustrated confusion, “The  diary?” he demanded. “What in Salazar’s name is  that supposed to mean?”“I’m sorry sir, Dobby has said too much!” He squealed, tugging on his ears in despair. “Dobby mustn’t say anything else!” And he was gone with a pop.“Well  that  was completely bl@@dy useless,” Tom grumbled.“Not entirely,” Harry countered, thinking hard. “We know that Mr Malfoy is planning something, and that it threatens all of Hogwarts. We know that he used to follow Voldemort, and I’m fairly certain that it was not as unwillingly as he claims.” Harry gasped. “Tom! What if Mr Malfoy wants to become the next Dark Lord!”“And attacking Hogwarts would help him achieve that… how, exactly?” Tom asked dubiously.“He could be planning to take out Dumbledore, since he opposed Voldemort, and the rest of us might get caught in the crossfire,” Harry pondered. “In any case, we should definitely tell the headmaster when we get back to Hogwarts.” “Tell him what, Harry?” Tom asked. “That a house-elf made some vague claims about Hogwarts being in danger and that Mr Malfoy may or may not be planning to attack the school? That’s hardly enough to go off of – let’s get to school, and if anything happens, we can tell him what we know.”“Well, okay,” Harry agreed. “But you promise we’ll tell him?”“Yes, Harry, of course.”Tom kept coming back to the events of that night over the next few days, and he found himself thinking it over once more as he watched Harry and Draco whip around in the sky above him, both on their brand new Nimbus 2001s. Was it really possible that Dobby could be referring to  his  diary? Well, Voldemort’s diary, really, though he was feeling rather possessive of it now that the idea it could be in another’s hands had been planted in his mind. There were, of course, many diaries in the world, and it was a little egotistical, even for Tom, to think that only  his  could be at the heart of dangerous goings-on at Hogwarts.On the other hand, it was connected to Lucius, and Lucius was connected to Voldemort – and Voldemort had had a particular and  highly  dangerous diary which could no doubt be used to wreak all manner of havoc. The question was,  did  Lucius have the diary? He thought back to the protections Voldemort had given each of his Horcruxes – the locket and the ring he remembered well, having both been placed in locations highly significant to him, and the diadem was at Hogwarts. The diary and the cup, however… Tom was fairly certain they had both been placed with high level followers who had been given strict instructions to hide them well. If Lucius  had  been in possession of the diary and done something with it against Voldemort's orders, he had certainly proven himself to be a worthless follower. Tom would keep him around, sure, but only for his poetic descriptions of how incredible he was. Draco was a  far  more useful man to have at his side, particularly as he was still young and eminently mouldable to Tom’s point of view. Okay, so Lucius was an idiot who had probably had Tom’s diary at some point, and was going to use it somehow to attack Hogwarts. Maybe. But what exactly was a Horcrux supposed to do in the castle? The soul it contained wasn’t like Tom, who had been nourished by the light and love of another human soul, it was simply a fluttering spark of life entombed within a blank diary. Had Voldemort intended the diary for a secondary use? This memory was more hazy, but Tom thought that just  might  be it, though he couldn’t remember what, exactly.He considered what he remembered of the diary and of Horcruxes in general. He had created that very first Horcrux at only age sixteen, not long after killing Myrtle Warren. It had really been somewhat of an accident. Oh, he had planned to kill, and soon – no reason to put it off, not when he would be returning that summer to a war zone – but opening the Chamber of Secrets, despite what he told the others, had not been an exercise in cleansing the school of Muggle-born students. It had been, rather, a show of power: look at me, I am  truly  the Heir of Slytherin, kneel before me. But then Myrtle had interrupted him as the Basilisk, Apophis, had carried him up the tunnel and into the girls’ bathroom, and before he could react the girl was dead on the floor. Well, waste not, want not. He had made his first Horcrux only days later.So, that was the diary in a nutshell, but aside from housing his soul, what else  could it do? Horcruxes, he knew, were capable of letting the fragments within flit in and out, to observe the world, to try and influence and take over the minds of those who came in close contact with them.  He vaguely recalled this from personal experience, having written back and forth to his soul for several weeks after the diary’s creation until he realised that the piece within it was hungering to be reunited with the whole; he had stopped after that day and hidden the diary deep within his school trunk.But Voldemort had written in the diary again, hadn’t he? It had been shortly after Dumbledore had denied him the Defence Against the Dark Arts position, when in a fit of pique he had retrieved the diary and given his younger self a very specific set of instructions, to be fulfilled only when one of his followers had successfully passed the diary into the hands of a Hogwarts school child. Tom’s thoughts ground to a halt, a chill flooding him despite the warm summer sun.Sweet Salazar – someone was going to open the Chamber of Secrets.
  
  

    
      
        
        
          Voldemort, probably: The old b@st@rd won't give me the job, eh? I'll show him.*Summons diary*Voldemort: Tom, KILL!'
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