By Killing Curse Eyes
Summary: On a class trip to London Harriet Lily Potter found a little black book lying on the ground, and suddenly, destiny shifted.
Chapter one: The Diary of T. M. Riddle
Harriet Potter walked down the side walk in London behind her classmates with her head down. They were there on a mandatory field trip that the Dursleys couldn't prevent her from going on. Harriet, or Harry as she preferred to be called, was actually having a good time for once, despite being forced to walk at the back of the class without a partner like everyone else. It was intended to be humiliating, but Harry preferred things this way. No partner meant no one to pick on her, no one to pull her hair, no one to call her names, no one to spill things on her. She enjoyed being alone. It was the way she had always been, and, she thought bitterly, the way she was likely to always be if the Dursleys had any say.
Looking up, she realized she had started to lag behind, walking quickly to catch up, she saw a black book lying on the ground out of the corner of her eye. Harry figured she was already behind enough, it wouldn't hurt to stop and pick it up. And so she did, shoving it in her backpack while running to catch up to her classmates.
This small moment changed things irrevocably. Had she not picked it up, some minutes later when a blond man with an ugly sneer on his face would have realized he'd dropped it and begun retracing his steps and found it just outside of a dingy pub called The Leaky Cauldron. However this was not to be. And so, the fate of the Wizarding World changed forever.
It wasn't until later in her cupboard under the stairs that Harry had the chance to examine her find. Using a torch she had stolen from Dudley's second bedroom, she eagerly took in the notebook. The black book's cover was worn, but appeared to be expensive.
Turning it over, she saw the printed name of a newsagents in Vauxhall Road, London and a date from roughly fifty years ago.
"Interesting. Must be an old journal of someone's. Should provide some entertainment," she mumbled to herself.
She opened it and saw the first page had nothing written, except for the name "T. M. Riddle" in smudged ink. Turning the page, she saw it was blank. Flipping through the rest of the pages, the black haired girl saw they were also blank.
"How boring. Might as well use it for myself though." She decided.
Digging through her blankets, she pulled out a worn down pencil.
My name is Harriet Lily Potter and I am 9 years old. She wrote. I have shoulder length black hair that gets too messy to grow out any further, even though I'd love to have longer hair. If I grow it any longer, it turns into a rat's nest. I have green eyes and a lightning bolt scar on my forehead. I'm told by my aunt that I got it in the car crash my parents died in. The crash was my dad's fault, according to her. He was driving drunk.
Harry paused in thought. She wasn't sure if she believed that or not, though whether her parents had been sober or not, she wished they'd been more careful. Maybe if they had been she wouldn't have ended up living with her fat uncle, Vernon, her horse faced aunt, Petunia, and their hell spawn, Dudley. While she pondered this, she didn't notice the paragraph she'd written begin to fade into blankness. When she looked again, she blanched at the empty page.
"What on Earth...?" she muttered. "Aunt Petunia would definitely consider this something freakish."
Maybe this diary belonged to someone like her. A freak. Maybe there were more freaks than just her and her deceased parents.
I am a freak. She wrote and then waited. Sure enough, her messy scrawl soon faded from the page. However, instead of remaining blank, words in an elegant script faded in.
Why do you say that? The diary asked
My Aunt Petunia told me I'm one. She wrote back hesitantly. I make freaky things happen. Once when the girls at school were chasing me I jumped and ended up on the school roof. Another time my Aunt tried to cut my hair really short so it wouldn't be so "unsightly" but it grew back to its normal length over night.
You are not a freak, Harriet. From the sounds of things, you're a witch.
That's not very nice to say. Harry frowned.
On the contrary, dear Harriet. It is the utmost compliment. You can do magic.
Magic? She asked. Is that what this is? This diary I mean?
Yes. The diary wrote back. I am a construct of magic. My name Is Tom Riddle. It's a pleasure to finally meet someone after all this time. May I ask how you came across my diary?
I was on a field trip, the jade eyed girl responded. And I saw your diary lying on the ground. I was curious, so I picked it up. I thought it might belong to one of my classmates. That maybe it held their secrets that I could use to get them to leave me alone.
I see. A very good plan. Wrote Tom. A shame that it didn't work out. Do your classmates often harass you?
Yes. They like to chase after me and throw things at me. If they catch me they like to dump their juice and water on me, or take me to the bathroom and dunk my head in the toilet.
I'm sorry you have to experience that, Harriet. The children in the orphanage where I grew up were cruel to me as well.
Really? Why? You grew up in an orphanage? You're a person? Not just a diary?
Because they knew I was different. They didn't like that. Muggles don't like us. They're jealous of us. They fear us. I am indeed a person. I am trapped inside this diary by my own will.
Muggles? Harry asked. It was a strange word. And why would you do that?
Non-magical people, explained Tom. And my reasons are my own. It is fortunate you found me. I was getting lonely. I hope I'm able to help you, dear Harriet.
Oh. I see... Sorry for asking. Just Harry is fine, by the way.
I prefer Harriet, my dear. Harry... just doesn't seem to do you justice.
Harry blushed, feeling strangely flattered by the diary's words and desire to help her. Maybe it—he – would. Maybe now she wouldn't be alone any more.
She was about to respond when a knock at her cupboard door forced her to slam the diary shut and hide it underneath her blankets.
"Girl!" Her aunt's voice screeched. "Get out and make supper. Diddy-Darling is getting hungry!"
"Yes, Aunt Petunia." Harry moaned.
"Watch your tone, girl. I will not have you disrespect me after everything I've done for you." Petunia snapped at her niece.
"Sorry, Aunt Petunia." She hastened to apologize, not wanting to get on her aunt's bad side. While things were never pleasant for her, per se, things could always be worse.
Harry did almost all the chores around the house. She cooked, she cleaned, she gardened. She wouldn't say she was abused... Neglected emotionally? Yes. For sure. Minor physical neglect? Perhaps. But she wasn't abused. Her aunt and uncle never hit her, nor did her cousin. No one touched her like that either. She got enough to eat, if only barely. She'd occasionally miss a meal as punishment, and sometimes only received bread, water and a multivitamin if she'd recently done anything freaky. Her clothes... they were second hand from the thrift shop, and her aunt often bought them several sizes too big so they'd last as long as possible. It was far from a happy life. But as her aunt and uncle reminded her, she had to be grateful they even took her in. That they didn't send her to an orphanage. So many children and families had it much worse, they reminded her.
That's not to say she wasn't bitter about it. But she knew there was nothing she could do. You can't make people love you and care about you.
Later that night Harry was back in her cupboard after finally completing all the chores her aunt and uncle wanted her to do. She groped around for her torch and turned it on. She pulled out Tom's diary, grabbed her pencil and began to write.
Sorry I disappeared suddenly Tom. Aunt Petunia made me cook dinner and then clean house. She wrote.
It's alright, wrote Tom. I assumed it was your relatives, Harriet. Tell me how they treat you.
And so she did. She told him everything. She told him all about herself. She poured her heart into him. And he grew stronger.
In return he told her about the orphanage. How the other children treated him. How the adults did. How eventually, he learned to use his magic to intimidate them and get his revenge.
Can you teach me? Harry inquired.
Yes. But it will be difficult. He answered. The earlier you start the better. It is rather simple, though difficult to achieve. You simply have to want something badly enough. That is how accidental magic works. You want something. You wanted to get away from the girls chasing you. You wanted your hair to be a certain length. You have to want, with all your being, something specific. I suggest you make the house shake. Simply think about how badly you want it to. Think about nothing else. Focus on it entirely. Want it with your entire being, and it will happen.
That's it? She asked. That simple?
Yes, but it will be difficult. Your magic best responds when you aren't trying to use it. Wandless magic is very difficult to use consciously. Explained Tom.
I don't know. All I know is that as you get older and your magic develops it will get harder to control without a wand. You're almost too old to have a good chance of using it consciously.
But you think I can do it, right? Harry bit her lip. She wanted to scare her family. She wanted to do fewer chores. She wanted a room. She wanted clothes that fit.
Yes, Harriet. I think you will. Just practice.
And so she did.
It took her nearly a month of trying to get the house to shake to make any progress. Tom said she was doing well, but she wasn't sure. She giggled at her relatives (for that's what they were, not family, as Tom said) reactions to the house suddenly shaking. It took two months to be able to make it shake within a few minutes of wanting it, and Tom finally felt she was ready to demand a room of her own.
Harry decided the best time to broach the subject to her relatives was Sunday morning after she had finished making breakfast.
"Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon, I'd like to speak to you about something, please." Harry said in her most formal and polite voice.
"What is it girl?"
"I want Dudley's second bedroom." The jade-eyed girl demanded.
"Ha! Why would we give it to you, you ungrateful brat? You have a place to sleep, clothes on your back, food on your plate..." Her uncle laughed.
Harriet took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She focused on what she wanted. She wanted the house to shake. She wanted to scare her relatives. She wanted nothing more than for the house to shake. It was all she desired. She needed it. More than anything.
And it worked. Within the minute the house started to shake.
"Give me Dudley's second room." She demanded, her eyes green ice as she glared at her relatives.
"Wh- stop that! You freak! You're doing this aren't you?" demanded Vernon, his face puce and his voice rough.
"Not until you give me Dudley's second bedroom." She replied, her voice firm.
"Don't be ridiculous- you stop that or it's the cupboard for a week with only bread and water!" her aunt threatened in a shrill voice.
"No! Give. Me. Dudley's. Second. Room." As she spoke, her temper rose. This wasn't working.
A vase shattered. Her magic was responding more than she'd anticipated.
"You ungrateful freak! How dare you do this to us after all we've done for you!" screamed Vernon.
"Give it to me!" Harry shrieked, and the china in the sink shattered.
"Mum! Dad! Just give it to her! Make it stop!" whimpered Dudley.
"No Didddy-dums, we can't give in to the freak-" Petunia was cut off by the rest of the china in the cupboards shattering.
"Give it to me or I'll destroy the entire house!" Harry roared, beyond frustrated. The ceiling cracked. At the rate things were going it wouldn't be long until they gave in. She could feel it.
"Fine! Fine! You can have his second bedroom!" Growled her whale of an uncle. "Just stop this freakish nonsense before you destroy the house!"
"With pleasure." And just like that, the shaking and breaking stopped. She had her room. And it was all thanks to Tom. Boy, would she enjoy it.
AN: Okay~ This is going to be my first multi-chaptered fic. The title is tentative until I think of a better one. Same for the summary. Feel free to make suggestions.
A few things you should know- I have an explanation for a lot of things that happen that don't make it into the fic. Like why Lucius had the diary with him in London. He was going to put it in Gringotts because he was anticipating the aurors searching his manor. If something comes up and you wonder why it happened but it's not explained, feel free to ask in a review. Second of all, I do have up to x-mas planned out, and some things for well beyond that. Most importantly, I have depression. Because of that, I am currently not working or going to school, so I have plenty of time to write. Unfortunately, it means I'm highly unpredictable when it comes to motivation. Right now I'm highly motivated, but that can change. Feedback (reviews, favs, follows) will help motivate me (read: guilt me), but please don't think I'm begging for reviews. I myself am a shitty reviewer.
I appreciate constructive criticism. If you don't like it, tell me why and tell me what you think would fix it.
Hopefully chapter will be longer than this one.
October 16 2015:
AN: I decided that since I've forgotten a lot of little details, that I may as well go through and edit the story. There may be some small changes that previous readers might notice, but if I change anything important I'll mention it in the latest chapter. Mostly I'll just be fixing errors.