The Diary (pottermort)

chapter twenty-six

Harry's collective list of information on Orion Black:

- He approved of Death Eaters but wasn't one himself

- He was a shitty father

- He went to school and was friends with Voldemort

- He married his second cousin lmao what a loser

It's not a long list. Not particularly collective.

Tom's, more so collective, collective list of information on Orion Black:

- He's horny for swear words

- He's rumored to be secretly also horny for the Dark Arts

- He's the eldest of three; Dorea and Lucretia being younger than him

- He's very Blood Purist and also a bitch

- He's excellent at defensive Charm and security measures in general. A crushing third year tried going through his trunk and was in the hospital for a month

- He flaunts the Black family ring. It's rumored that he does so to tempt people into trying to steal it as an excuse to test out new offensively defensive wards

- He's a fourth year Slyherin, such as he

- He's in the same Pureblood, circle-jerk friend group as Abraxas

- He was friends with him their first year

And, perhaps, the most chilling:

- He's currently holding his diary. The diary that is also Harry.

Tom wants to curse him. It's an institutual reaction, but one he supresses. They're at a party ("meeting"), which isn't exactly the best environment for a quick stun-and-Oblivitate.

... Which is, admittedly, probably what Orion intended.

Tom narrows his eyes and huffs. "So."

"Your reaction to this," Orion lifts the diary, "tells me more than the diary itself. Which was a-fucking-lot, by the way."

Tom regrets sending Fleamont away. "What do you know, then?"

Orion beams. "I found it orginally from snooping through your shit-- don't look at me like that-- because I wanted to steal your stupid ass trophy. Do you have any idea how much money I could get from selling Gellert's wand? But you had that warded off, so I had little luck there. I was pissed, though, and refused to leave empty handed. I was gunna do a full out robbery, but when I was stuffing away all your books, I found this little fella. I put everything back, by the by, because this bitch was much more valuable."

"First off," snapped Tom, "don't touch my stuff. And, yes, I will look at you like that. Secondly, that diary isn't worth half as much as everything I own. I reject you and your melodramy." He scoffed, then motioned for Orion to continue.

"This shit reeks magic like it's a stench and it hasn't been cleaned in a month-- which is odd for a book, right? Like the fuck? Pictures in books move, yeah, but it's like this has a magical core."

"I still don't see how your baseless implications could force me into your club."

"Be patient, then, bitch," snipped Orion. "You have GG's wand heavily protected. You likely have Fleamont's Invisibility Cloak-- hell yes, I've done my research. You have a diary that feels like a person. And you survived the killing curse."

Tom ran a finger over the scar on his forehead at the mention. Orion... he talked as if he was getting at something. Or as if he thought he was. "Right. And?" he prompted

"If word got out to the press that you were collecting the Hallows, well, it wouldn't bide very well, would it? Especially since you walk when you should be dead. You escape death, and are collecting items of Death themself. I mean, out of context, people are going to take that fucking terribly, right? I can see the headlines now-- Tom Riddle, The Next Dark Lord? Tom Riddle Makes Deals With Death? Tom Riddle Made Death Trap A Person In A Book?"

Tom Riddle blinks. He is internally thinking about how Orion seems so certain Death exists. He is thinking about how Orion really has done his research. "Say your terms," he states. Orion seems overjoyed to do so.

"You will fucking join my club and stay until the end of the school year. You will do what tasks I ask of you as the team captain-- these tasks I'll go into more detail after the first meeting, where we'll sort out the  vows. If you do as your side of the vow pertains, then I will be un-fucking-able to help publish any newspaper about you and or blackmail you again."

Tom didn't like the sound of the "details to be discussed at a later time." The first bad sign was not mentioning them outright. Being one on one as a condition is an omen in most cases.

But he'd like not to be slandered, thank you very much.

Tom straightened (ha) his shoulders and said, "Alright."

Orion tossed him the diary, which Tom fumbled to catch. "Fucking wonderful. Our goals are to take down Albus god damn Dumbledore and to kill Death--"

"--Excuse me but did you just say kill Death--"

"Yes, and. We meet every Friday and Sunday by the Quidditch pitch at a quarter past three. Be there or be square."

Tom was fairly certain that Orion was not right in the head-- seriously, killing Death? Taking down Albus Dumbledore was both possible and understandable, yes, but killing Death was neither. Ideally, Tom wouldn't be communicating with anyone a few cards short of a deck but, ideally, he wouldn't be being blackmailed, either. So-so.

If it wasn't a member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight confronting him, then Tom would hardly consider an approach to newspapers with a few out-there rumors a threat. He would scoff, kiss Fleamont, then be on his way.

But this is a Black. A Black heir who has lots of money, lots of connections, and who is not afraid of using or abusing either. Any idea that Orion brought up was more likely than not to be printed front page.

So he was doing this, he supposed.

"What's this club called, anyway?" says Tom for his final comment.

"Death and/or Albus," says Orion. "It's a work in progress, don't FUCKING look at me like that. We just call ourselves the DA."