Lesser Virtues, Greater Goals | Tomarry

Chapter 1 : Way down we go

A/N: I know, I'm restless with these short stories
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'The Chamber is deadly cold' Harry decides, once the door with the entangled snakes moves open and he finally steps inside.

It's plain, if he is honest with himself. He expects something more than dirt on the floor and walls, and thousands of pipes leading to different directions.
'Salazar's head is a bit impressive. If only if it wasn't so unkempt as well.'

And there, under the statue there's Ron's sister Ginny laying on the soaked floor unconscious. If it wasn't for her fiery hair Harry wouldn't have noticed her so quickly. The Chamber was freaking huge.

He runs towards her form with all the speed his feet can take at the moment.
He is physically exhausted. He's always runningbevery damn yearvfrom one thing or another. Oh. There's also a twenty meters long snake. Perfect. 'Well, it's not here. For now.'

"Ginny, please, don't be dead! Your family needs you, come on." He murmurs as he checks her wrist for a pulse. There is one although it doesn't seem it will last long. Her skin is as white as cement paint.

Her left hand is wrapped around...

'Is that Riddle's diary? Okay, now what does that have to do with anything?' Harry takes it off the red haired's tight embrace. He tries to connect the dots when -

"I'm afraid she won't be waking any time soon."

He whips his head around startled. He didn't expect someone else being there.
Especially a boy who - in his own words - was a memory in a diary. Right. And then somehow he got out.

Harry may not posess Hermione's thirst for devouring information like a calculator but his instincts about people are usually right. And his instincts are currently urging him to run away. "Riddle... You managed to get out of the book then."

"As you can see for yourself... yes." Grins the Slytherin prefect and the grin is... blurred somehow. He is not fully formed yet. He is on the edge to be though.

Harry is tempted to sneer or say something back in a sardonic manner. He doesn't. He tries to keep his temper at bay. "I assume that it was you who put Ginny in this condition?"

"Clever boy."

The Gryffindor swallows upon hearing such words of praise. He isn't used to be complimented. And this is not a compliment. It makes him extremely uneasy. Compliments do not usually work like that.

"Why does she have to suffer for you to get out?" He asks as softly as he can. He cannot enrage the person responsible for the girl's misfortune. Not when there is still a chance to save her. Though he doesn't know how to do that yet.

"I assure you, it's nothing personal." Says Riddle in a smooth voice. "Little Ginevra here just happened to be the first person to pick up my journal. I wasn't going to let that opportunity go to waste."

"Right. And the basilisk? You control it somehow, don't you?"

There is something in Riddle's eye... a flicker Harry doesn't understand the meaning of, at the time, until very later. "How did you find that out, Harry?"

"I don't know." Mutters the boy. "Epiphanies happen from time to time. Even I'm surprised. I'm right though, aren't I?"

"Indeed you are."

"Will you order it to kill me?"

"It depends."

Harry frowns. "On what?"

"On how amusing you will proven to be."

'He wants something, doesn't he?' Thinks Harry, before staring at the older boy with wary eyes. "What do you want to know?"

"Voldemort, how was he killed?"

Harry cannot help but sigh. 'Why is everyone always asking about that?' "I don't know, okay? I was a baby. My mother did something. A protection spell, that's what they told me."

"Your mother?"

"Yes, my muggleborn mother, whose kind apparently you hate." He says, eyes accusatory. "She defeated him. Why do you care about Voldemort anyway? You lived during the forties and his tyranny took place in the eighties. Who are you, one of his first followers?"

Riddle's faint smile while their little exchange now widens into a smirk. He seems to be enjoying the whole situation. "I would never be anyone's follower."

"So who are you?"

Riddle with a raise of his hand makes Harry's wand fly away from his curled fist.

"Hey, that's mine!" Yells the boy.

"You won't be needing it." Is the calm answer.

Letters. Riddle writes his own name with letters that appear to have caught fire mid air.

"Is that even necessary?" Asks the bespectacled boy. 'I mean, besides you being dramatic for no reason.'

"I can hear your thoughts, you know." Says the older, mildly amused.

"Joy." Mutters the Gryffindor sarcastically. "You will save me the trouble of waisting my breath."

"To answer your question, this is the reason why."

The letters rearrange themselves. And Harry feels like someone has dropped a bucket of freezing water on him. 'Because, of course the boy you trusted to help you with uncovering the heir somehow turned out to be Voldemort. A new disappointment every year, isn't it?'

"So you're...?" He stammers.

"Yes."

"Uh huh... Should have expected it, really. Last year it was you as well."

The handsome boy does not comment on the bitter remark.

Harry begins to panic for real. "Is there a way to exchange her life somehow? I mean, you appear to be winning... so can't you just leave her be? You said you have questions, yes? Take me instead, but please, let her go."

The older leaves a laugh out and it's harsh and terrifying. It distorts his face, sharpens his features, not flattering at all. "Ginevra told me you have a... 'saving people thing'? - that's what she called it - but this is ridiculous. I do admire your try to negotiate but you fail to see that, one: I already have you, and two: I cannot stop the process. She started it. Started writing. It's not your responsibility to 'save' her. It should never have been. So, you see... there is nothing you can do."

Harry gulps again. "You can't keep me here forever. Even if you manage to materialize, this place is completely unsanitary."

Tom arches a fine brow at that. "You do have a point. This is the least ideal place for a civil conversation."

"Exac - What? What are you - ?"

"Veternum."