A New Place to Stay Chapter 16 - Harry Potter

 At Prince Manor, a small kindness becomes a turning point: Harry gets Dobby a proper winter robe, then invites Snape into a Pensieve to show the Chamber of Secrets as it truly happened, Lockhart’s cowardice, Tom Riddle’s confession, the basilisk, the Sword of Gryffindor, and phoenix tears that saved a twelve-year-old boy. Snape’s fury at Dumbledore’s carelessness and his sharp eye for dark magic shift the conversation to what the diary really was, and why it terrifies him. The chapter closes in a hidden library where mentor and ward begin researching the artifact together. Perfect for listeners who love close, character-driven Snape-and-Harry guardianship with canon-deep lore. 

Transcript

**Chapter 16: Pensieve Memories and Some More to That Diary**

"Here you are, Master Harry Potter. Is there anything else Dobby can do for you?" Dobby squeaked, bouncing up and down with excitement.

He still wore that dreadful pillowcase, looking utterly ridiculous, completely unaware of how poorly dressed he appeared—especially compared to the Potion Master's house-elves that Harry had grown accustomed to. On Dobby's head sat a collection of mismatched knitted hats made by Hermione during her S.P.E.W.

campaign. Unsurprisingly, her efforts had only alienated the other elves, leaving Dobby as the sole willing cleaner of Gryffindor Tower.

The poor thing. "Sir, do you have any more of those costumes that you use for Rose and Orchid?" Harry asked, his eyes pleading as he looked at Snape.

He would never beg for himself, but when it came to his friends, he would kneel before the devil himself. Severus raised an eyebrow, curious.

Was Harry actually begging him with his eyes for this simple request? That was a first.

But knowing Harry, he recognized the boy's unwavering loyalty to those he cared about. It was amusing, given that Severus himself considered himself "disgustingly loyal," albeit to only one person—Lily Evans.

Noticing Harry's expression fall, Severus realized he had been lost in thought for too long. He rolled his eyes.

"Rose?" Severus called out, sighing in exasperation. The things he did for Harry Potter.

Yet, for once, he wasn’t complaining in his usual snarky manner. As he thought about the "spoiled brat" getting his way, he realized just how much Harry loved all his friends.

Friends and a house-elf—Potter was certainly an odd one. "Yes?" Rose responded, coming to her Master's side.

Even though she was technically a free house-elf, she would always consider Severus her Master. Dobby gasped, wide-eyed at the sight.

Harry watched the house-elf, his eyes wide with awe and disbelief. He couldn't fathom that this house-elf was free yet still serving the dark man, and he was taken aback that the elf hadn’t offered the customary greeting.

“Bring me a uniform without the embroidery on it,” Severus said simply. Rose nodded curtly and vanished in a puff of smoke.

“Thank you,” Harry said, a grin spreading across his face. He couldn’t believe he had gotten his way.

He was certain that Dobby would feel much better in a proper winter robe. It was the kind of clothing he had worn to hide the oversized, baggy clothes that had often made him look skinny due to all the extra material.

Dudley’s size had inadvertently helped Harry keep his secrets safe, and he found a strange comfort in that. Moments later, Rose reappeared, handing the robe to Severus.

She glanced at him expectantly for a few seconds, but when he remained silent, she vanished again, accustomed to her Master’s quiet demeanor. Having been one of the house-elves who received clothes for bowing and scraping, she had felt petrified when she was released.

She had served the Prince family proudly for generations and worked hard to become a house-elf her Master could take pride in. That meant more to her than the proper greetings her parents had drilled into her as a young elf.

“Here,” Severus said, passing the robe to Harry. “Sir?

Do you have a Pensieve?” Harry asked. “I could show you the memory; I think it would be better than trying to remember everything.

That way, you can see for yourself what happened... I mean, if you want to,” he added quickly, noticing Severus had gone quiet.

“How would you know of the existence of Pensieves, Mr. Potter?” Severus asked coolly.

“Dumbledore left one lying out for me to find,” Harry replied, bitterness lacing his voice. The allure of a Pensieve was hard to resist, especially when the memories were swirling around—he had learned that much.

He had read about it. A few days ago, Harry had grown curious about whether his Potions Master kept a Pensieve in his library.

"What did you see?" Severus asked, suspicion clouding his expression. "Karkaroff's trial," Harry replied, a bitter frown twisting his lips.

Severus's eyes widened in fury at Dumbledore's reckless actions. Not only had his position been compromised, but the trial had also discussed what had happened to the Longbottoms.

He knew that Neville hadn’t told anyone the details of his parents' fate, and he found it painful even to think about. Frank and Alice Longbottom had been members of the Order; he had known them, albeit slightly.

Harry, turning toward Dobby, missed the flash of undeniable anger in Severus's eyes. Had he noticed it, Harry might have cowered under Severus's gaze.

Instead, he handed the closed robe to Dobby, instructing him that it was now his, and to wear it like a proud free house-elf. As Dobby burst into tears and disappeared, clearly overwhelmed by Harry's kindness, the diary was passed over to Harry.

"Here," Harry said, handing the blackened, lifeless diary to Severus. It was just as he remembered it.

Severus accepted it and summoned his own Pensieve. He carried it everywhere, and at that moment, it was empty.

This Pensieve had been in the Prince family for generations and had helped him immensely over the years. "To use it, Potter, you need to think of the memory and only that one," Severus instructed curtly, placing the bowl in front of them with great care.

He obviously valued the Pensieve, treating it as if it were the Holy Grail. Harry nodded slowly, showing he understood, but he continued to stare at Severus oddly.

"Well, Potter?" Severus frowned at him, noticing the boy's unblinking gaze as if he were something extraordinary. fascination.

"You'll have to do it—I don't have a wand," Harry reminded his teacher, his tone emotionless. Severus felt a surge of frustration; of course the boy didn’t have a wand.

He had meant to return it, but somehow, it always slipped his mind. With a swift motion, he called for Harry's wand, and it floated smoothly through the air into Severus’ open palm.

He handed it over, noticing it was strikingly similar to one he had seen before. He shook off the thought and waited impatiently for Harry to extract his memory, eager to uncover what had happened in that chamber.

As they touched the memory together, they both fell into it and watched it unfold. Severus immediately realized that Potter had chosen to show the moment from when they were in the Defense classroom.

He noted how small Potter still looked, even compared to Ronald Weasley in their second year. "What about my sister?" Ron asked, his voice jerky with concern.

"Well, as to that—most unfortunate," Lockhart replied, avoiding their gaze as he wrenched open drawers and emptied their contents into a bag. "No one regrets it more than I—"

"You're the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher!" Harry protested.

"You can’t just leave now! Not with all the dark stuff going on here!"

"Oh, Potter, you really were naive," Severus remarked, shaking his head as he observed the interactions in the Pensieve.

"I was twelve!" Harry retorted indignantly. "Well, I must say… when I took the job…" Lockhart muttered, now piling socks on top of his robes, "nothing in the job description… I didn’t expect…"

"You mean you’re running away?" Harry demanded, disbelief etched on his face.

"After everything you've written in your books?"

Severus rolled his eyes, wondering again why Harry had chosen to show this memory here of all places. "Books can be misleading," Lockhart replied delicately.

"You wrote them!" Harry shouted. "My dear boy," Lockhart began, causing older Harry to grimace at the term; Dumbledore called him that too, and he hated it.

"Do use your—"

"Common sense," Lockhart continued, waving his hands dismissively. "My books wouldn’t have sold half as well if people didn’t think I’d done all those things.

No one wants to read about some ugly old Armenian warlock, even if he did save a village from werewolves. He’d look dreadful on the front cover.

No dress sense at all. And the witch who banished the Bandon Banshee had a hairy chin.

I mean, come on..."

"So you've just been taking credit for what a load of other people have done?" Harry asked incredulously. "Harry, Harry," Lockhart sighed, shaking his head impatiently.

"It's not nearly as simple as that. There was work involved.

I had to track these people down, ask them exactly how they managed to do what they did. Then I had to put a Memory Charm on them so they wouldn't remember doing it.

If there's one thing I pride myself on, it's my Memory Charms. No, it's been a lot of work, Harry.

It's not all book signings and publicity photos, you know. If you want fame, you have to be prepared for a long, hard slog."

He banged the lids of his trunks shut and locked them.

"Let's see," he said, glancing around. "I think that’s everything.

Yes. Only one thing left." He pulled out his wand and turned it on them.

"Awfully sorry, boys, but I’ll have to put a Memory Charm on you now. Can’t have you blabbing my secrets all over the place.

I’d never sell another book..."

"Oh crap," thought Harry, suddenly remembering something from the memory that he hadn't considered before. He reached for his wand just in time.

Lockhart had barely raised his when Harry bellowed, "Expelliarmus!" 

Lockhart was blasted backward, tumbling over his trunk. His wand flew high into the air, and Ron caught it, flinging it out of the open window.

"Well done, Potter," Severus smirked in amusement. "Shouldn't have let Professor Snape teach us that one," Harry said furiously, kicking Lockhart's trunk aside.

Lockhart looked up at him, wary once more, as Harry continued to point his wand at him. "Go figure—you would use my proper name."

"Title when you were furious," Severus muttered, shaking his head.

He had never heard Harry Potter refer to him with his proper title before, at least not until they arrived at Prince Manor. It was amusing to see Lockhart intimidated by two twelve-year-olds.

The sound of a furious Potter was strange; Severus had never heard Harry express himself like that, especially when he said, “Shouldn’t have let Professor Snape teach us that one.” 

Severus watched as Lockhart protested weakly, "What do you want me to do? I don’t know where the Chamber of Secrets is.

There’s nothing I can do."

"You’re in luck," Harry replied, forcing Lockhart to his feet at wandpoint. "We think we know where it is.

And what's inside it. Let’s go."

"Very Slytherin, Potter," Severus remarked, smirking at the look of dread that flashed across Lockhart’s beady eyes.

Then, Severus endured the sight of Harry Potter politely conversing with a dead girl in the bathroom, wondering when they would actually get moving. His only interest lay in Lockhart’s trembling form.

It was a shame he hadn’t been eaten by the basilisk instead of being saved and sent to St. Mungo’s, after everything he had done.

Memory Charms were illegal, except for those who worked alongside Ronald Weasley’s father. They were allowed to use them to keep the Muggle world unaware of magic, and that was it.

"Harry," Ron suggested, "Say something. Something in Parseltongue."

"But—" Harry began, but then broke off.

Severus looked at him curiously, wanting an explanation. "I’ve never been able to speak like a snake unless I saw a real one in front of me," Harry shrugged.

"Open up," he said. "English," Ron replied, shaking his head.

"Open up," Harry hissed. Suddenly, the sink began to move; in fact, it sank right out of sight.

A large pipe gaped open before them, wide enough for a man to slide through. "I'm going down there," Harry declared confidently.

"Me too," Ron chimed in, eager to follow. "Gryffindors," Severus muttered, rolling his eyes at the two twelve-year-olds.

"Well, you hardly seem to need me," Lockhart remarked, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "I'll just—"

"You can go first," Ron snapped, prompting Severus to raise an impressed eyebrow.

Pale and wandless, Lockhart approached the opening. "Boys," he said, his voice shaky, "what good will it do?"

Harry jabbed him in the back with his wand.

Lockhart hesitated, then slid his legs into the mouth of the pipe. "I really don't think—" he began, but Ron gave him a push, and he disappeared from sight.

Harry quickly followed, lowering himself into the pipe and then letting go. Instead of Severus and Harry following him, they found themselves beside Harry in a memory.

They watched as Ron came whizzing out of the pipe, landing beside them. "We must be miles under the school," Harry commented, his voice echoing in the dark tunnel.

"Under the lake, probably," Ron replied, squinting at the slimy walls around them. "Lumos!" Harry muttered, and his wand flared to life.

"C'mon," he urged Ron and Lockhart, and off they went, their footsteps echoing loudly on the wet floor. "Remember," Harry said quietly as they moved cautiously forward, "any sign of movement, close your eyes right away…"

"Harry, there's something up there…" Ron whispered hoarsely.

Severus was busy taking in the legendary Chamber, a look of awe breaking through his usually stoic demeanor. Although his attention seemed focused on the Chamber, he was keenly listening to everything being said, ensuring he didn’t miss a thing.

"Maybe it's asleep," he breathed back to the others. "Blimey," Ron gasped weakly, and Severus found himself thinking the same thing for two reasons: snake skin was extremely valuable, and there was…

A twenty-foot-long snake skin lay in front of him, vivid in his memory.

Suddenly, there was a commotion, and Lockhart was brandishing Ron's broken wand. "The adventure ends here, boys!" he declared.

"I shall take a bit of this skin back to the school, tell them I was too late to save the girl, and you two tragically lost your minds at the sight of her mangled body. Say goodbye to your memories!

Obliviate!" he shouted. The wand exploded with the force of a small bomb.

Harry instinctively threw his arms over his head and ran, slipping over the coils of snake skin as great chunks of the tunnel ceiling thundered down around him. In the next moment, he found himself standing alone, staring at a solid wall of broken rock.

"Ron!" he shouted. "Are you okay?

Ron!" 

"I'm here!" Ron's voice came back, muffled through the rubble. "I'm okay.

This git's not, though—he got blasted by the wand. What now?" Ron sounded desperate.

"We can't get through; it'll take ages…"

"Wait there," Harry called out. "Stay with Lockhart.

I'll go on. If I'm not back in an hour…"

Silence stretched on for what felt like ages.

"I'll try to shift some of this rock," Ron said, attempting to keep his voice steady. "So you can get back through.

And, Harry—"

"See you in a bit," Harry replied, trying to sound confident. Both Severus and Harry followed the twelve-year-old deeper into the heart of the Chamber, and Severus appeared to be having the time of his life.

It reminded Harry of his first visit to Diagon Alley, overwhelmed by the sights all around him. He hid a smile, feeling an unexpected fondness for his Potions teacher at that moment, though he couldn’t quite understand why.

Perhaps it was the realization that Severus could feel, or that he, like everyone else, was curious and capable of being shocked. Harry had no idea that he had been surprising his Potions teacher since he arrived at Prince Manor.

He still didn’t fully grasp that he was beginning to think of Severus Snape as his Potions Master. Severus watched as the twelve-year-old trembled while entering the main Chamber.

For the first time, he realized the boy was likely terrified. "Ginny!" Harry muttered, sprinting toward her and dropping to his knees.

"Ginny! Don’t be dead!

Please don’t be dead!" He flung his wand aside, grabbed Ginny's shoulders, and turned her over. Her face was as white as marble and just as cold, yet her eyes were closed, indicating she wasn’t Petrified.

But then she must be… "Ginny, please wake up," Harry pleaded desperately, shaking her. Ginny's head lolled hopelessly from side to side.

In that moment, he noticed a figure standing at the end of a long, dimly lit chamber. Towering stone pillars, entwined with intricately carved serpents, rose to support a ceiling lost in darkness, casting long black shadows through the eerie greenish gloom that enveloped the place.

“She won’t wake up,” said a soft voice. Severus froze, recognizing that voice from a time long past, before it had been drowned out by the hissing of too many dark rituals.

The figure was too obscured by the shadows to be seen clearly, but there was no mistaking that voice. “Tom… Tom Riddle?” Severus shook his head silently; it was clear Harry Potter didn’t yet understand who he was speaking to.

“What do you mean, she won’t wake?” Harry asked, his voice filled with desperation. “She’s not… she’s not…” He struggled to finish the thought.

“She’s still alive,” Riddle replied, “but only just.”

“Are you a ghost?” Harry asked uncertainly. “A memory,” Riddle said quietly, “preserved in a diary for fifty years.” 

Severus frowned; he had never encountered dark arts like that in all his years.

So this wasn’t Voldemort’s spirit at all. It was another fragment of himself, which meant there could be more diaries out there, each a potential key to his immortality.

“You’ve got to help me, Tom,” Harry said, lifting Ginny's head again. “We’ve got to get her out of here.

There’s a Basilisk… I don’t know where…”

"It is, but it could be along any moment. Please, help me..." 

"In a minute, actually," Harry sighed, watching his Pensieve self plead with Lord Voldemort for help, a frown etched on his face.

"Thanks," he said, reaching out for his wand. He shook his head silently, closing his eyes at the naiveté of his twelve-year-old self.

"Listen," he urged, his knees buckling under Ginny's dead weight. "We've got to go!

If the Basilisk comes..." 

"It won't come until it's called," Riddle replied calmly. "What do you mean?" Harry asked, growing more anxious.

"Look, give me my wand. I might need it." 

"You won't be needing it," Tom said dismissively.

"What do you mean I won't be—?" 

"Idiot," Severus muttered to himself, wondering how slow the boy was. Harry had claimed he didn't trust Riddle since finding out about Hagrid; clearly, that wasn't the case.

To Severus's surprise, Harry laughed wryly in agreement. "I've waited a long time for this, Harry Potter," Riddle said, his smile broadening.

"For a chance to see you. To speak to you." 

"Look," Harry snapped, losing his patience, "I don’t think you get it.

We’re in the Chamber of Secrets. We can talk later." 

"We're going to talk now," Riddle declared, still smiling as he pocketed Harry's wand.

Severus watched as the realization began to dawn on younger Harry. "How did Ginny get like this?" Harry finally asked.

"Well, that's an interesting question," Riddle replied pleasantly. "And quite a long story.

I suppose the real reason Ginny Weasley is like this is that she opened her heart and spilled all her secrets to an invisible stranger." 

"What are you talking about?" Harry asked, exasperated. "The diary," Riddle explained.

"My diary. Little Ginny's been writing in it for months, telling me all her pitiful worries and woes: how her brothers tease her, how she had to come to..."

"School with second-hand robes and books," Riddle's eyes glinted as he continued, "How she didn't think her famous, great Harry Potter would ever like her..." 

Throughout his speech, Riddle's gaze remained fixed on Harry's face, an almost hungry look in his eyes.

Severus knew what that meant: someone was going to die soon. "It was very boring, having to listen to the silly little troubles of an eleven-year-old girl," he went on.

"But I was patient. I wrote back; I was sympathetic, I was kind.

Ginny simply loved me. 'No one's ever understood me like you, Tom… I'm so glad I've got this diary to confide in… it's like having a friend I can carry around in my pocket…'"

Riddle laughed, and Severus felt a shudder of revulsion.

No good ever came from Riddle's laugh, not even back then before he completely lost it and started going after newborn children. "I never understood how someone that good-looking could sound so evil," Harry grimaced.

"Tell me about it, Potter… In those days, it was hard to say no to Tom Riddle," Severus admitted. "If I do say so myself, I've always been able to charm the people I needed.

So Ginny poured out her soul to me, and her soul happened to be exactly what I wanted. I grew stronger and stronger on a diet of her deepest fears, her darkest secrets.

I became powerful, far more powerful than little Miss Weasley. Powerful enough to start feeding Miss Weasley a few of my secrets, to start pouring my soul back into her..."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, his mouth suddenly dry.

"Haven't you guessed yet, Harry Potter?" Riddle asked softly. "Ginny Weasley opened the Chamber of Secrets.

She strangled the school roosters and daubed threatening messages on the walls. She set the serpent of Slytherin on four Mudbloods and the Squib's cat."

"No," whispered Harry.

"Yes," Riddle replied calmly. "Of course, she..."

She didn't know what she was doing at first.

It was quite amusing. I wish you could have seen her new diary entries; they became far more interesting.

“Losing my memory. There are rooster feathers all over my robes, and I don’t know how they got there.

Dear Tom, I can’t remember what I did on the night of Halloween, but a cat was attacked, and I’ve got paint on myself. I think he suspects me… there was another attack today; I’m going mad… I think I’m the one attacking everyone, Tom!”

“It took a very long time for that foolish little Ginny to stop trusting her diary,” Riddle said.

“But eventually, she became suspicious and tried to get rid of it. That’s where you came in, Harry.

You found it, and I couldn’t have been more delighted. Of all the people who could have picked it up, it was you—the very person I was most eager to meet…”

“And why did you want to meet me?” Harry asked, anger surging through him, evident in his glowing emerald eyes.

“Well, you see, Ginny told me all about you, Harry,” Riddle replied. “Your whole fascinating history.” Riddle's gaze zeroed in on Harry's lightning bolt scar, and his expression grew more intense.

Harry shuddered in revulsion; that same hungry look had been on Voldemort's face in the graveyard. Severus was observing everything, and he even noticed Harry's shudder before he focused again on Tom Riddle and Harry Potter, the ghostly figures of the Pensieve memories.

“I knew I had to find out more about you, talk to you, meet you if I could. So, I decided to show you my famous capture of that great oaf, Hagrid, to gain your trust.”

“Hagrid is my friend,” Harry said, his voice now trembling.

“And you framed him, didn’t you? I thought you made a mistake, but—”

Riddle let out his high-pitched laugh once more.

“It was my word against Hagrid’s, Harry. Well, you can imagine how it looked to old Armando Dippet.

On one side, you had Tom Riddle—poor but brilliant, parentless but so brave…”

"School prefect, model student. And then there’s big, blundering Hagrid, always in trouble, trying to raise werewolf cubs under his bed, sneaking off to the Forbidden Forest to wrestle trolls.

I have to admit, I was surprised at how well the plan worked. I thought someone would realize Hagrid couldn’t possibly be the heir of Slytherin.

It took me five whole years to uncover everything I could about the Chamber of Secrets and find the secret entrance. It’s not like Hagrid had the brains or the power to do that!"

"I found it in a year, so take that," Harry interjected, a hint of offense in his voice at Riddle’s pride in taking five years.

Severus smirked, unable to contain himself at Harry's words. Despite everything, he felt a sense of pride for the teenager’s quick thinking.

"Only the Transfiguration teacher, Dumbledore, seemed to think Hagrid was innocent. He convinced Dippet to keep Hagrid here and train him as the gamekeeper.

Yes, I think Dumbledore might have guessed. He never seemed to like me as much as the other teachers did..."

"Wonder why," Harry muttered sarcastically.

Severus swallowed a laugh that threatened to escape, despite the seriousness of the situation. Harry was quite amusing when he chose to be, especially with his sarcasm.

"I bet Dumbledore saw right through you," Harry said, his teeth gritted. "Well, he certainly kept an annoyingly close watch on me after Hagrid was expelled," Riddle replied carelessly.

"I knew it wouldn’t be safe to open the Chamber again while I was still at school. But I wasn’t going to waste all those long years I spent searching for it.

I decided to leave behind a diary, preserving my sixteen-year-old self within its pages. One day, with a bit of luck, I would be able to lead another in my footsteps and finish Salazar Slytherin’s noble work."

"Well, you haven’t finished it," Harry shot back triumphantly.

"No one’s died this time, not even the cat. In a few hours, the Mandrake Draught will—"

"Be ready, and everyone who was petrified will be all right again."

"Haven't I already told you," Riddle said quietly, "that killing Mudbloods doesn't matter to me anymore?

For many months now, my new target has been... you.

Imagine how angry I was when the next time my diary opened, it was Ginny who was writing to me, not you. She saw you with the diary, you see, and panicked.

What if you found out how to work it and I revealed all her secrets to you? What if, even worse, I told you who had been strangling the roosters?

So, the foolish little brat waited until your dormitory was deserted and stole it back. But I knew what I must do.

It was clear to me that you were on the trail of Slytherin's heir. From everything Ginny had told me about you, I knew you would go to any lengths to solve the mystery...

particularly if one of your best friends was attacked. And Ginny had told me the whole school was buzzing because you could speak Parseltongue..."

Severus raised an eyebrow—so the boy had been manipulated again, this time by Voldemort instead of Dumbledore.

It was funny how those two had almost seen Potter dead four times, directly or indirectly. "So, I made Ginny write her own farewell on the wall and come down here to wait.

She struggled and cried and became very boring. But there isn't much life left in her; she put too much into the diary, into me.

Enough to let me leave its pages at last. I have been waiting for you to appear since we arrived here.

I knew you'd come. I have many questions for you, Harry Potter."

"Like what?" Harry spat back defiantly.

"Well," Riddle said, still smiling pleasantly, "how is it that a baby with no extraordinary magical talent managed to defeat the greatest wizard of all time? How did you escape with nothing but a scar, while Lord Voldemort's powers were destroyed?" 

There was an odd red gleam in Riddle's eyes now.

Severus watched intently, pondering how Tom Riddle knew Voldemort hadn’t truly been killed. The fact that his powers were destroyed was one thing, but at just sixteen, Riddle seemed to understand so much more.

What had he done? How had he created that diary?

Severus craved answers—he despised mysteries almost as much as Potter did. “Why do you care how I escaped?” Harry asked slowly.

“Voldemort was after your time,” he added. “Voldemort,” Riddle replied, “is my past, present, and future, Harry Potter.” With a flick of his wand, shimmering words traced through the air: TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE.

He waved the wand again, and the letters rearranged themselves to form: I AM LORD VOLDEMORT. “You see?” he whispered.

“It was a name I was already using at Hogwarts—only to my most intimate friends, of course. You think I would keep my filthy Muggle father’s name forever?

I, in whose veins runs the blood of Salazar Slytherin himself, through my mother’s side? I would cling to the name of a common Muggle who abandoned me before I was even born, simply because he discovered his wife was a witch?

No, Harry. I fashioned myself a new name, a name I knew wizards everywhere would one day fear to speak when I became the greatest sorcerer in the world!” 

“I had forgotten,” Harry murmured, almost to himself.

“What?” Severus frowned, glancing back at Harry instead of Riddle. “That he had already told me all this.

I forgot—he mentioned it again in the Graveyard, only in more detail,” Harry said, clearly shocked. Severus raised an eyebrow in amusement.

Of all the things Potter could say, it was that he had forgotten what the Dark Lord had said. “You’re not,” Harry contradicted, his voice thick with hatred, causing Severus to flinch.

He had thought Potter hated him, but it was nothing compared to his hatred for Voldemort. Severus had never heard Harry Potter speak like that before, and it was actually quite intimidating.

especially with those striking green eyes. The power radiating from the teenager was astonishing, and he was only going to grow more powerful with time.

"Not what?" Riddle snapped. "Not the greatest sorcerer in the world," Harry replied, breathing heavily.

"Sorry to disappoint you, but the greatest wizard is Albus Dumbledore. Everyone says so.

Even when you were strong, you didn’t dare try to take over Hogwarts. Dumbledore saw through you back when you were at school, and he still frightens you now, wherever you’re hiding these days."

Severus couldn't help but snort in amusement.

Only Harry Potter could infuriate the darkest wizard by mentioning Albus Dumbledore. "Dumbledore has been driven out of this castle by the mere memory of me!" Riddle hissed, sounding more like his older self.

Harry let out a loud bark of laughter. "Driven out not by you, but by Lucius Malfoy, more like.

He’s not gone as you might think!" 

Severus frowned and gave Harry a pointed look. "I was trying to scare him," Harry admitted with a shrug, avoiding Severus's gaze and looking away from the scene before him.

Following Harry's line of sight, Severus frowned but saw nothing… until he heard it—a flash of light as Fawkes indeed came to Harry's aid. "That's a phoenix…" Riddle said.

"Well done for stating the obvious," Harry muttered darkly. "Fawkes," Harry breathed.

"And that’s the old school Sorting Hat."

Laughter erupted again, sending goosebumps up their necks and arms. "This is what Dumbledore sends his defender?

A songbird and an old hat! Do you feel brave, Harry Potter?

Do you feel safe now?"

Harry never did answer. "To business, Harry," Riddle continued.

"Twice—in your past, in my future—we have met. And twice I failed to kill you.

How..."

“Did you survive? Tell me everything.

The longer you talk,” he added softly, “the longer you stay alive.” 

Severus watched the scene with curiosity, wondering how the teenager would respond: Would he share stories of their past encounters, or would he tell him to screw off? He could hardly wait to see how it would unfold.

“No one knows why you lost your powers when you attacked me,” Harry said abruptly. “I don’t know myself, but I do know why you couldn’t kill me.

Because my mother died to save me. My common, Muggle-born mother,” he added, shaking with suppressed rage.

“She stopped you from killing me, and I’ve seen the real you. I saw you last year.

You’re a wreck. You’re barely alive.

That’s where all your power got you. You’re in hiding.

You’re ugly; you’re foul!”

“I’m impressed, Potter,” Severus replied. Even at the age of twelve, he had always insisted that his mother played a role in his survival.

It was a familiar theme, recalling the conversations he’d had with the boy at Prince Manor. Harry had always believed his mother had saved him, downplaying his own actions.

Lily had not been forgotten, and a warm glow settled in Severus’s stomach as he reflected on it. Not only was Lily still remembered, but she also lived on in her son, the boy she had sacrificed herself for, even when she had believed him to be a Death Eater.

“So, your mother died to save you. Yes, that’s a powerful counter-charm.

I can see now—there is nothing special about you after all. I wondered, you see, because there are strange likenesses between us, Harry Potter.

Even you must have noticed. Both half-bloods, orphans, raised by Muggles.

Probably the only Parselmouths to come to Hogwarts since the great Slytherin himself. We even look somewhat alike...

but after all, it was merely a lucky chance that saved you from me. That’s all I wanted to know.” 

“Now, Harry,”

"I'm going to teach you a little lesson," Riddle said.

"Let’s match the powers of Lord Voldemort, heir of Salazar Slytherin, against the famous Harry Potter, armed with the best weapons Dumbledore can provide."

"Uh, do you know if basilisks can blind you in a Pensieve? If so, you'd best close your eyes," Harry replied warily.

Then he translated, "Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four," as Voldemort hissed the password in Parseltongue. Severus watched in horror as the massive serpent lunged at Harry.

He felt helpless as he saw Harry fall, while the phoenix swooped in, attacking the basilisk’s eyes to prevent it from petrifying or killing anything ever again. Voldemort screamed for the basilisk to leave the bird alone and to kill the boy instead, issuing commands in Parseltongue that Severus could understand.

Severus closed his eyes, his heart racing as he witnessed the twelve-year-old begging for help that would never come. When he opened his eyes again, he saw that Harry was now wielding a sword—the sword of Godric Gryffindor, just as he had promised.

Harry was running wildly, the basilisk lunging at him every few seconds. Severus watched as Harry raised the sword high above him, and indeed, it penetrated the basilisk’s mouth.

But he also saw the fang sink into the tender flesh of Harry's upper arm. Even in his dire situation, Harry was still talking to that blasted bird.

Severus stifled an almost insane urge to laugh. He certainly wouldn’t be telling a phoenix it was great if he were dying in a pool of water with basilisk venom coursing through him.

"You're dead, Harry Potter," Riddle gloated. "Dead.

Even Dumbledore's bird knows it. Do you see what he's doing, Potter?

He's crying. I'm going to sit here and watch you die, Harry Potter.

Take your time. I'm in no hurry."

"So ends the famous Harry Potter," Riddle said, his voice growing distant.

"Alone in the Chamber of Secrets, forsaken by his friends, finally defeated by the Dark Lord he so foolishly challenged. You'll soon be with your dear Mudblood mother, Harry… she gave you twelve years of borrowed time… but in the end, Lord Voldemort got you, just as you always knew he would."

"That's his downfall every time—talking to me, challenging me like that," Harry replied, shaking his head in bitter amusement.

"Get away, bird!" Riddle's voice suddenly pierced the air. "Get away from him!

I said, get away!"

Severus smirked; it was clear that Riddle had just realized what they could do. "Phoenix tears…" Riddle muttered.

"Of course… healing powers… I forgot…"

He then turned back to Harry. "But it makes no difference.

In fact, I prefer it this way. Just you and me, Harry Potter… you and me…"

That was all the motivation Harry needed.

He reached for the fang he had discarded earlier. With a fierce snarl, he brought it down against the diary.

Black ink began to spill out, and Harry ignored the screams that erupted from Tom Riddle. Just like that, Riddle was gone.

Suddenly, they found themselves back in Prince Manor, recovering from the abrupt exit from the Pensieve. "That diary is as dark as they come… I've never encountered anything like it before in my life.

Will you excuse me? I have some reading to do," Severus said, his eyes narrowed in deep thought.

"May I come?" Harry asked hopefully. Severus narrowed his eyes even further and sighed.

"As long as you don't even think about using the Dark Arts. I will be teaching you what you need to know for the upcoming battle.

The Dark Arts are very seductive, Potter, and they will draw you in."

There was a knowing glint in his eye, revealing that Severus understood exactly what he was talking about. "I promise not to," Harry said softly.

"Very well;

“Come,” Severus said abruptly, giving his permission. Harry’s curiosity piqued; it was clear that Severus feared the worst about the diary.

Since destroying it, Harry hadn’t given it much thought. Severus led him to the library and through to a musty room hidden within.

It was filled with books that were concealed from plain sight. Severus dove right in, and Harry soon followed, wondering silently what they might be searching for.