That evening after the Sorting Feast, Remus stopped Harry just before he left the Great Hall.
'Move along, Draco,' he said to the blond boy. 'I just have a small matter to discuss with Aries.'
Draco nodded and joined the mass of students heading up to Gryffindor Tower. Remus led Harry to his office.
'Congratulations on the new job, Uncle Moony,' Harry said once they were inside and he was comfortably seated in an overstuffed armchair.
'Thank you, Aries,' Remus said, pouring them each a cup of tea. 'Of course, you and I both know that my task here is about loads more than just teaching Transfiguration. I'm mostly here to help keep an eye on you.'
'I know,' Harry replied with a long sigh, and took a sip of his tea.
Remus raised an eyebrow. 'Of course, your dad and I do know what it's like to be twelve, and I have received explicit instructions from certain individuals not to do anything that might keep "boys from being boys."'
Harry chuckled. 'That's a relief. I was beginning to worry how I'd manage any mischief with a former Marauder as my Head of House.'
'Do make an effort to keep things beneath my notice,' Remus warned. 'If you're too blatant, I'm afraid I'll have to take action.'
'I do like a bit of a challenge,' Harry said cockily.
The edges of Remus's mouth twitched slightly. 'Is that why I heard this evening that you took on four sixth-years on the Hogwarts Express?'
'They were sitting in our compartment,' Harry said defensively. 'And I gave them plenty of warning. You can ask Draco.'
'Still, I'm afraid I have to take five points from Gryffindor for your actions,' Remus said. His tone was stern, but his eyes twinkled. 'Transfiguring older students so you can steal their seats is not appropriate behaviour.'
'Yes, sir,' Harry said evenly.
'It was, however, very impressive work,' the new Transfiguration master continued. 'I've never seen anything like it from a second-year. I'll give you five points for the baboon, and ten for the parakeet. Human-to-monkey's not so difficult, but human-to-bird is truly brilliant.'
Harry smiled. 'Thanks, Uncle Moony.'
'Now run along up to your dormitory,' Remus said. 'And don't hesitate to come to me if you run into any trouble this year.'
'I shan't,' Harry promised. 'Good night.'
'Good night, Aries.'
.....
Late that night, after everyone else was asleep, Harry sat up behind his bed curtains, writing in his diary. He found Tom Riddle to be an utterly fascinating individual. He knew better than to trust him, of course – what fool would trust some random book that could speak for itself? – but he felt that he could make use of him to learn the secrets that the diary clearly possessed.
So, Black, are you going to seek out the Chamber of Secrets this year, as I suggested? Riddle wrote.
Harry groaned. How you do go on about that, Riddle! he wrote back. One would almost think you had some sort of vested interest in my visiting the Chamber.
You are the Heir of Slytherin, Riddle replied, and Harry could almost hear the mocking tone. Or at least that's what you claim.
Shut up, Riddle. I may be the Heir of Slytherin, but I have no desire to set his monster loose on all the Muggleborns. They're not all as bad as all that.
They're filthy blights on the wizarding world, that's what they are! Riddle wrote back angrily. They don't deserve to live.
Harry chuckled. Strange to hear stuff like that coming from you, Riddle, he wrote. Especially since I've never heard of any pureblood family with your surname. Was your dad a Muggleborn?
There was a long pause before Riddle finally wrote back.
You don't know anything about my father.
Harry laughed aloud. He was, wasn't he? What is it with all these half-bloods becoming blood supremacists? It's like you all think you have something to prove. There's you, of course, and Snape – he was a Death Eater – and then there's Voldemort himself.
There was another long pause.
Voldemort? Who's that, Black?
A half-blood bastard with an over-inflated ego, Harry wrote back. He thought he was the Heir of Slytherin and set himself up as a Dark Lord awhile back. Pretty impressive too, I must say. He nearly killed me last time we fought. Of course, the first time we fought I nearly killed him, so I suppose that makes us even.
If you're really so powerful, why don't you become a Dark Lord yourself? Riddle asked.
All my family want me to, Harry wrote. Except for my dad and cousin. I think they'd rather I didn't go mad and start murdering Muggles for fun. I've always thought it sounded like too much work with not enough reward. Why make all those enemies and have to live in hidden fortresses and such when one can just get along with people and play Quidditch and spend lots of gold?
Harry sensed a flash of amusement from the diary, and his forehead began to ache. He ignored the discomfort. His head had been hurting off and on ever since he had first encountered the diary. He supposed it was because it was such a powerful magical object. The Philosopher's Stone had caused him pain too, though in rather a different way.
Maybe you don't want to be a Dark Lord because you've never realised what it would really be like, Riddle wrote. Haven't you ever imagined having the entire world tremble at the sound of your name? Just think of it, Black, you could fix everything. You could put an end to people like that annoying Ron Weasley and his friend Finnegan, and those idiot Hufflepuffs. You could teach all us uppity half-bloods our proper place. Everyone would know who you are.
Aunt Clytemnestra always says that if someone doesn't know who a Black is, that someone isn't worth knowing, Harry shot back. Anyway, I'm tired. I'm going to bed now.
Good night, Black.
Good night, Riddle.
Harry slipped the diary beneath his pillow and went to sleep. That night, as on most nights since he had begun to write in the diary, he had a very strange dream.
He was sitting on a throne-like chair in the centre of a dark room. A group of wizards in robes and masks knelt before him and kissed the edge of his robes.
'Well?' Harry demanded in a cold, cruel voice that sounded vaguely familiar. 'What news from our operation in Sussex?'
'Success, my lord,' said the leader of the masked wizards. He sounded very much like Uncle Lucius. Harry supposed that it might be Draco as an adult. 'Caractacus Weasley will no longer be a thorn in your side.'
Harry felt a thrill of delight. 'Well done,' he said. 'You will be rewarded for your faithful service to your master. What of the attack in York? Nott?'
Another of the wizards bowed his head and stepped backwards.
'M-my lord,' he stammered. 'Dumbledore arrived at the last minute. He was too much for us. We had to leave.'
Harry narrowed his eyes at the unfortunate wizard in front of him. 'Did you at least manage to assassinate Crouch at his speech? That was the whole point of the endeavour, after all.'
Nott hung his head. 'No, my lord. I beg your forgiveness.'
'That's all the more unfortunate for you, Nott,' Harry drawled. 'You should know by now that I do not forgive. Crucio!'
Nott collapsed to the floor in agony, and Harry let out a long, exhilarated cackle.
.....
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