Haunting You ➹ Harry Potter

Tartarus

Tartarus, the god of the deepest, darkest part of the underworld.

As soon as the feast ended Riddle skipped out of the great hall as if he had a hell-hound on his trail. Some of his little flying monkeys stared wide-eyed at him, but he ignored them. I , of course, followed my enemy, I still had to haunt him a bit more today.

He went down, to the dungeons and entered the Slytherin common room as if he owned it. The room was empty, the students had yet to leave the great hall, so Riddle took a seat on the couch.

"You're such a drama Queen Tomsie." I whispered sweetly in his ear. He narrowed his eyes and looked around the room.

"I don't know who you are but you'll regret this." He whispered loud enough for me to hear.

"There's nothing to regret." I replied. "If anyone here is going to regret anything it will be you."

"You dare threaten me?" He hissed, getting up from the couch in fury.

I snorted aloud, I'm dead it's not as if he can kill me again. "I don't dare, I just do it." I answered.

Before he could start screaming out of the top of his lungs the common room door opened and the prefects and the first years walked in. My nemesis quickly put on that mask he always has on, the perfect little good Slytherin.

I felt my mission was completed for the day, so I walked next to him once more and murmured to him. "Good night Tommie, sleep tight don't let the bedbugs bite."

He controlled the sneer that almost cracked his mask, but his sour expression was good enough to give me a large laugh.

Oh brat, this is only the beginning.

--

I didn't come to see him for the next few days. I wanted to give him a sense of security, I wanted him to believe that hearing voices had been a one time thing. Of course I knew the little bastard was paranoid and would never believe such a thing. I also needed a few days away from him, his presence brought out the worse in me and I didn't want to become as cracked in the head as he was.

Now, it was the best hour to strike. Bratty Tom was having transfiguration class with professor Dumbledore. That old goat, who was on my shitting list after letting my murder go unpunished, messed with Riddle's head just by existing. Of course I would strike while he least expected.

I walked through the door to find the Slytherins and the Gryffindors listening to Dumbledore. Tom was sitting on the back, probably trying to glare at Dumbledore without being found out or something.

I leaned on his table, and deadpanned. "Doesn't that old goat ever shut up?"

The hand that was taking notes stopped writing, and he looked up to where I was. Of course he couldn't see me, but his eyes on my person made me freeze. Thankfully he quickly looked at Dumbledore before snorting softly.

He grabbed his quill and wrote down on a clean parchment. 'Unfortunately he never does, and neither do you.'

"Is that supposed to hurt my feelings Tomsie?" I inquired, rolling my eyes at him. I saw him clench his jaw when he heard me call him Tomsie, but continued. "You'll have to try harder than that sweetheart."

'Who are you?' He wrote.

"I am many things yet I'm not one thing." I replied, trying to be mysterious enough. Although, I really am a mix between a banshee, a ghost and a phantom and nobody really knows what I am.

I could almost feel his need to roll his eyes at my reply, but instead he wrote 'You're never going to leave me be are you?'

" I'm glad we understand each other." I whispered into his ear smoothly, and I wish he could have seen the smirk that was plastered in my face. "Think of me as your not so friendly ghost that will taunt you for eternity. Actions have consequences after all."

All of a sudden the expression on his face cleared, as If he knew exactly what I was. I was almost concerned until he wrote. 'I understand now, you're a side effect of it.'

I was confused for a minute, wondering what 'it' was, but decided to avoid the issue. "Believe whatever you like, I'm here to stay brat." I replied.

He did not reply to that, instead he ripped the parchment that he had been using to communicate with me and returned to taking notes about transfiguration. I remained quiet the rest of the lesson, think about what he had said.

He had done something, and believed that the voice or entity that was hunting him was a side effect of some sort. The only things that could leave such side effects were Dark Rituals, very Dark Rituals. I wasn't an expert on the issue but I needed to know what he had done, and why.

After class had ended, I quietly followed him. If he believed that I was a side effect he would eventually research whatever he had done to find a way to get rid of me. He entered his room, in the Slytherin dorms, and grabbed a trunk that was hidden under his bed. He whispered in snake tongue and the trunk opened.

I followed him inside it, still making sure I didn't make any sound. The moment he stepped inside he grabbed two notebooks, one was black and had his name stamped on the back and the other one was brown. For some reason the black notebook just screamed to me, as If it didn't belong to Riddle. It belonged to me. I ignored it's call.

Riddle quickly opened the brown notebook, and I saw his handwriting covering the pages. He passed most of the pages without looking at them until he reached the page that said 'Horcrux' on top.

The name meant nothing to me, but it did sound ominous enough to make me shiver. I looked closely at the page and read to myself.

' A Horcrux is a powerful object in which a witch or wizard has hidden a fragment of his or her soul for the purpose of attaining immortality. Creating one Horcrux gives one the ability to anchor one's own soul to earth if the body was destroyed. Creating such objects is suggested to be costly to the creator. For one to do it the splitting of the soul is necessary, which is intended to remain whole, through the most supreme act of evil: murder. '

The moment I finished reading I was already looking at Riddle with wide eyes, the son of a bitch. I quickly drew my eyes to the black notebook that seemed to call to me and I lost my breath. The freaking son a bitch.

No wonder I was a weird ass fucking ghost, the bastard had killed me and used my death to do a dark ritual that messed up his soul to attain immortality. I best bet was that notebook that he carried, I felt it. It was as if it was anchored to me, and him.

He was right after all, I was a side effect of his idiotic dark ritual. If he hadn't done it I would have passed on, instead of being stuck here.

I clenched my jaw, and pursed my lips before glaring with all hate at the brat in front of me. Forget making him go insane, forget taunting and haunting. I would make him bleed, I would make him scream, I would make him beg, I would make him suffer.

His deepest darkest wish was immortality wasn't it? He destroyed his own soul for it didn't he? He killed me and used me because of it didn't he? Well then...

He was already dead, he just didn't know it yet.