16 March 1993, Hogwarts
Tom Riddle looked to be in his element, he was calm and collected, he had a small smirk on his face that indicated that he knew something that Harry didn't, that the end of the game was already preordained.
Harry finished observing his opponent and asked, "Is she dead?"
He was talking about the lying body of Hermione Granger, who didn't look like it was breathing at all, yet Harry could tell that she had a spark of life still left in her. It was odd, she was alive and dead at the same time.
The older boy's grin widened, "In a way. She was quite the host, I have to say. People seem to trust her. It was weird being in her body, recognized as being on the side of the angels. You should have seen the little Longbottom boy, running around like a headless chicken, trying to clear his name."
"Something that you orchestrated; I'm assuming."
"Every fairy tale has to have a good old-fashioned villain. You know, I always found that people do love their heroes, but what they love more, is tearing them down. Longbottom's fall from grace was almost too easy to arrange. You see, people don't really like heroes. Oh, they love to cheer them on as they save the day every time, but deep down, they don't want them to be real. They want heroes to fail because it would show them that they're not all that special. I heard that the hard way…"
Harry snorted, "The orphanage, I assume."
The older boy froze for a second but then, continued, "No. I learned that here. I wasn't always like this, you know. Have you ever seen a duel between Dumbledore and Grindelwald? I have, in person. It was terrifying, to feel so small in front of them, like staring at some kind of divine beings of destruction. Because that's what they looked like, gods. I was still a student. I tried to form an organization, to see if we could stand up to them with unity, to unite the entire school to eject Dumbledore from his position. They accused me of raising an army. It was funny, people believed that it was more likely that I was doing that, than doing anything to help, so I ended up using other resources at my disposal. I became the villain society wanted me to be."
"The chamber of secrets…"
"Exactly. This was a treasure dove of information, and with it a way to force people to listen," Riddle froze for a second and shook his head, "But we're not here to talk about that. Have you figured it out yet, Potter? My plan?"
Harry stayed silent and Riddle asked, "How hard is it for you to say that you don't know?"
"I don't know," Harry responded flippantly while moving his rook.
"Oh, that clever," Riddle chuckled, "that's really clever. Speaking of clever, it's been nice, you know, that game of ours. It's a nice distraction from the boredom I have been feeling. You needed this; I can see it on your face. I'm sure you enjoyed it, having the challenge, having the enemy. You need me or you would have been stuck in your books, never leaving the library. You needed a challenge, and you got one in me. You're just like me, except that you're a lot more boring. You lack ambition. And you call yourself a Slytherin."
Seeing his opponent make a move, Harry thought for a moment before moving his knight and said, "Your body… Is it some kind of functional astral projection or is it a magical construct that houses your soul?"
The older boy grinned, "A magical construct. I'm glad you like it. It was very tricky to acquire."
Harry gasped as he understood what Riddle had done, "Hermione's soul is technically anchored to her body, but it's temporary isn't it, until your construct is stabilized. You moved her soul to the diary and you're using her body as a buffer as you create your new construct. The body thinks you're possessing it and casting a spell, which you technically are, but you're using her like a battery, and the moment it's over, you would have technically made yourself a fully functional independent body. You would detach yourself from her, let her body fully die. But there's something missing. This kind of soul magic is very sensitive. I don't know much about it, but I do know enough to say that this should have blown up in your face, but somehow, it's stable. How did you manage that without the drawbacks of forced soul possession?"
"I didn't. Hermione Granger willingly gave herself to me. It was a fair bargain."
"And what did you offer in return?" questioned the last Potter.
"I promised to create a world where everyone is safe, where everyone is happy. I promised her a world where she was still your friend, a world where she didn't abandon you. She still misses you, after all this time."
Harry stifled the guilt that was building in his gut and spoke up, "You created a world inside the diary, an illusion, a simulation of the life she desires."
"Yes, I created her an ideal world, where she would learn everything that she could learn, where she could practice magic."
"But it's not real," Harry protested.
"It's real enough for her…"
The Potter scion had no way to refute that, "She would be dead."
"Not really, if you think about it. She would be alive in her little illusion, living in a play, in a utopia created just to suit her needs. Her soul would live on forever. Isn't that kinder than sticking her in a world filled with cruelty and death, a world that would discriminate against her just because of her lack of ancestry?"
Harry stayed silent for a good minute before stiffening in realization, "The ritual, that's what it is. You plan to do it for the whole castle, to stick them in your diary, in your makeshift world."
"I am offering a utopia and immortality for an entire generation of wizards and witches," Riddle stated.
"But how will your diary handle that many souls? It was made to handle a single shard, which you could stretch to a full one like Hermione's. But hundreds would overwhelm it quite easily."
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