Dark Ness
Rises Where Silence Dies
- Location
- The Primordial Soup
She already told up top.
We never knew our family until we killed them.
The Diary [HP]
- Thread starter PutterMurr
- Start date
- Pronouns
- Exist
Wasn't that how Tom made the Dairy Horcrux?
- Location
- some random college
Ack, can't believe I missed that. Edited.
It's so hard to separate metaknowledge from IC knowledge sometimes.
Dark Ness
Rises Where Silence Dies
- Location
- The Primordial Soup
- Location
- some random college
Actually, Tom made the diary Horcrux when he killed Myrtle. The ring Horcrux was the one he made when he killed his father.
I sort of doubt that as he did not directly kill Myrtle. The ring did not necessarily have to be made soon after the first time he visited the shack of the Gaunts.
- Location
- some random college
I'm just going by what I see in the wiki. And, even though Tom didn't personally cast the spell that killed Myrtle, the basilisk was under his command at the time, so I think it still counts as murder.
Dark Ness
Rises Where Silence Dies
- Location
- The Primordial Soup
I don't trust the wiki. Mainly because they cite chapter 17 of the Chamber of Secrets as the source for Myrtle being the Horcrus victim, and, after I just reread the chapter, there is no mention of that. It is your quest, so you can do what you like, but in this case I am pretty sure the wiki is wrong.
- Location
- some random college
Eh, the timeline makes sense to me, but I'll reread the chapter in question and see if it changes my mind. I'm rereading the whole second book for the sake of this quest anyway, just to make sure my canon's up to date.
- Location
- Hungary
[ X] Be honest. Give the girl your Muggle name, as disdainful as it is. She doesn't like her name, you don't like yours -- it's common ground.
[ X] Ask about this 'Harry Potter' character she mentioned. For some reason you cannot place, this name stands out to you.
Don't underestimate the power of fangirls
[ X] Ask about this 'Harry Potter' character she mentioned. For some reason you cannot place, this name stands out to you.
Don't underestimate the power of fangirls
Dark Ness
Rises Where Silence Dies
- Location
- The Primordial Soup
You need to take out the space in your brackets.[ X] Be honest. Give the girl your Muggle name, as disdainful as it is. She doesn't like her name, you don't like yours -- it's common ground.
[ X] Ask about this 'Harry Potter' character she mentioned. For some reason you cannot place, this name stands out to you.
Don't underestimate the power of fangirls
Thanks - I had a terrific laugh at this one. A bit risky indeed.
ebolasos
Hiiii please be my friend!
- Location
- Down under
[ X] Be honest. Give the girl your Muggle name, as disdainful as it is. She doesn't like her name, you don't like yours -- it's common ground.
[ X] Ask about this 'Harry Potter' character she mentioned. For some reason you cannot place, this name stands out to you.
[ X] Ask about this 'Harry Potter' character she mentioned. For some reason you cannot place, this name stands out to you.
- Location
- Florida
[X] Be honest. Give the girl your Muggle name, as disdainful as it is. She doesn't like her name, you don't like yours -- it's common ground.
[X] Ask about the outside world. As 'charming' as this little domestic portrait is, you need to know what's actually going on.
So, Tom wasn't able to comprehend love, most likely due to him being a sociopath. Since diary Tom is no longer bound by a human brain that is physically incapable of comprehending love, would it be possible for him to learn how to love?
[X] Ask about the outside world. As 'charming' as this little domestic portrait is, you need to know what's actually going on.
So, Tom wasn't able to comprehend love, most likely due to him being a sociopath. Since diary Tom is no longer bound by a human brain that is physically incapable of comprehending love, would it be possible for him to learn how to love?
- Location
- some random college
That depends entirely on whether you believe Tom's sickness resided in his brain or his soul. I won't give a definitive answer either way, at this point.
Update incoming.
August 5th - 5
- Location
- some random college
[x] Be honest.
"I...have a name." Your insides boil with rage at its very mention, but yes, you do have a name. A name stained with Muggle taint, that no great wizard would allow to stain their image. But you are nothing if not resourceful, and you vowed long ago to turn those cursed letters into a true name, one befitting of your power. Thus, 'Tom Riddle' was sloughed off like serpent's skin, giving way to Lord Voldemort, the heir to Salazar Slytherin.
That tale would be rather sudden to impart to little Ginny, however, and you are in no mood to spill your innermost thoughts. Besides, 'T.M. Riddle' is etched on the spine of the diary -- not that she's seemed to notice -- so giving her your original name seems rather inevitable.
You grimace. Perhaps you can bond over your shared hatred for your names.
Noticing your pause, Ginny begins to write again.
You don't have to tell me, if you don't want. I was just --
"It's fine," you cut her off, hoping your curtness won't come across in writing. "A name...for a name. It is only fair."
Do you not like your name, or something? It can hardly be worse than 'Weasley,' so there's no need to be embarrassed.
This girl would do well to stop interrupting you, but you harden your grimace and push through your mounting anger. This is all in the service of your end goal. All in the service of your rise to power. You will do what you must.
"What keen...intuition," you say, quite unable to restrain your sarcasm. "Indeed, my name is...a common one. Plain. I find it..."
Tainted. Unworthy. Filthy.
"...boring."
You pause, half-expecting her to chime in with her thoughts on that, but for once, you are met with merciful silence. So you contine.
"My name...is Tom."
There's a burst of merriment from her side of the diary, and you highly suspect Ginny is laughing. Naive little idiot. If she had any idea who you were...
Tom! From the way you were dragging it out, I thought it would be much worse. Like Neville or Eugene or Archibald or...no, I shouldn't be so mean. I'm sure there are perfectly nice people out there with those names, too. But still. Tom is a fine name!
"How...gracious...of you to say." Certainly, all your troubles are alleviated, now that this nobody has deemed your name 'fine.'
Is is short for anything? Like mine?
"I'm afraid...not. 'Tom' simply stands for...Tom."
You're rather like Harry, then. Some people think his name is short for 'Harold', but no, it's just Harry. I think that's perfect for him, anyway. 'Harold Potter' would sound so odd, don't you think? So stuffy and old. It wouldn't suit him at all.
"I wouldn't...know." There she goes bringing up that 'Potter' fellow again. You're about to inquire further, when her writing interrupts you for the umpteenth time.
Do you have a last name, Tom?
You give a frustrated sigh that is, thankfully, inaudible.
"Look at my spine...Ginny," you instruct. "Is there...not a name?"
Give me one second.
You're briefly plunged into darkness as your cover closes, and you feel yourself turned on your side. It isn't long before her genius detective work is complete and she's writing in you once more.
Yes, there is! 'T.M. Riddle.' I can't believe I didn't notice before. I was just so excited to start writing in you, I must have missed it.
"It can happen...to the best of us."
I think Tom Riddle is a good name. It's interesting!
"I'm glad...that you think so," you say, and you can sense her sincerity, even through the shallow emotional bond this light conversation has created. Not one to guard her emotions, this girl. Unfortunate for her -- but oh so advantageous for you. "What a coincidence. We both...dislike...our own names. Yet we admire...the other's."
Yeah. It's pretty funny, isn't it?
"Perhaps...I was meant...to fall into your hands." You would have preferred other, more skilled hands, make no mistake. But, given circumstances, you must make the most of the hands you're in.
Maybe.
The bond flickers for a moment, threatening to sever. Her attention must have been drawn elsewhere -- and you must fix that. Fast. Returning to the topic she seemed so effusive about before, you say, almost frantic, "Do you have any sisters, Ginny?"
This seems to draw her eyes back to you. You relax somewhat, though you brace for another outpouring of her complaints.
None. None at all. You'd think out of seven children, Mum could have managed one more girl, but no. I'm the only girl. And the youngest. I'm sure that's why they all pick on me so much.
"Are they...much older than you?"
Percy's four years older than me. Fred and George are three...Ron's only one year older.
Hesitation there. A sign of insecurity, perhaps? You press your advantage.
"Only one year. How...fortunate. You two must be...very close."
You expect another pause, but instead, the girl starts in on it with the same vigor as before.
No, we aren't. Not really. I always wanted to be, since we were always the 'babies', but Ron never wanted to play with me once he got older. Said he didn't want to play 'girl games'. Always sided with the twins. He wouldn't ever let me play with him and his friends when they came over with their brooms, even though he knows I can fly. Probably better than him. And now, he's best friends with Harry, and he's just as bad as Fred and George about mocking me--
"What do they...mock you about...Ginny?" you ask, taking your turn to interrupt her.
The bond tenses with a familiar feeling. A secret a moment before it is shared -- though it is one you have already guessed, given her infatuated drivel.
You have to promise you won't tell anyone, Tom. It's a secret. And it's so, so embarrassing.
"My dear girl...who would I tell? I am...for your eyes only. And your words...will never resurface...unless I let them," you say. "I would not let them."
You feel a bizarre mix of relief and excitement from Ginny. If you do not already have her at your beck and call, you will. Soon.
Okay. If you're serious.
"Completely."
...I have a crush on Harry. And even though I haven't told anyone -- well, until now -- everyone already seems to know. That's what they all make fun of me for.
"How...cruel. To mock someone's truest feelings..."
I know, Tom. I know. It makes me want to cry sometimes, it really does.
"No friends...to share this burden with?" you ask. "No one...to listen?"
I know some of the local girls. Mum invited them over sometimes when I was littler. But they're hardly ever around now, and I didn't like any of them well enough to write. They wouldn't understand anyway. No one does, and if they do, they just make fun of me.
She's trembling with emotion now, possibly on the verge of tears, though you can't truly tell without seeing her.
"It must...be so terribly lonely."
Several meaningless scratches of ink fall down to you as her quill brushes the paper, trying to put her words into thoughts. Finally, you see a single, short message.
Yes. It is.
But with impressive speed, she covers up her brief moment of vulnerability and continues to write.
That's why I'm so excited for Hogwarts! I'll finally have friends my own age, and I won't have to deal with stupid older brothers and stupid chores and stupid crushes living in my house for a month.
The girl's been writing for a while now, and her outpouring of emotion -- combined with your own minor draining -- has noticeably tired her out. You figure you'll have one last opportunity for the day to extract something from her. How do you wish to proceed?
[ ] You want to bring her attention back to her loneliness. You want to establish yourself as her source of comfort, her confidante, her only true friend.
[ ] You want to fan the flames of her anger towards her family. It will be best if she's isolated from them for what's to come.
[ ] You want to speak of happier things. She must associate you with positive emotions, for the time being, or she will not continue to write. Perhaps that Potter boy?
[ ] You want to ask more about the outside world. It will calm her down, and you can give the illusion that she is learning more about you in the process.
[ ] You want to pour a piece of yourself back into her. It will be difficult, it will not be significant, and it will take every ounce of strength you have gathered from this conversation. Depending on her self-awareness, it is possible she will detect it. But an early start to this process may prove to be worth it.
[ ] Write-in
"I...have a name." Your insides boil with rage at its very mention, but yes, you do have a name. A name stained with Muggle taint, that no great wizard would allow to stain their image. But you are nothing if not resourceful, and you vowed long ago to turn those cursed letters into a true name, one befitting of your power. Thus, 'Tom Riddle' was sloughed off like serpent's skin, giving way to Lord Voldemort, the heir to Salazar Slytherin.
That tale would be rather sudden to impart to little Ginny, however, and you are in no mood to spill your innermost thoughts. Besides, 'T.M. Riddle' is etched on the spine of the diary -- not that she's seemed to notice -- so giving her your original name seems rather inevitable.
You grimace. Perhaps you can bond over your shared hatred for your names.
Noticing your pause, Ginny begins to write again.
You don't have to tell me, if you don't want. I was just --
"It's fine," you cut her off, hoping your curtness won't come across in writing. "A name...for a name. It is only fair."
Do you not like your name, or something? It can hardly be worse than 'Weasley,' so there's no need to be embarrassed.
This girl would do well to stop interrupting you, but you harden your grimace and push through your mounting anger. This is all in the service of your end goal. All in the service of your rise to power. You will do what you must.
"What keen...intuition," you say, quite unable to restrain your sarcasm. "Indeed, my name is...a common one. Plain. I find it..."
Tainted. Unworthy. Filthy.
"...boring."
You pause, half-expecting her to chime in with her thoughts on that, but for once, you are met with merciful silence. So you contine.
"My name...is Tom."
There's a burst of merriment from her side of the diary, and you highly suspect Ginny is laughing. Naive little idiot. If she had any idea who you were...
Tom! From the way you were dragging it out, I thought it would be much worse. Like Neville or Eugene or Archibald or...no, I shouldn't be so mean. I'm sure there are perfectly nice people out there with those names, too. But still. Tom is a fine name!
"How...gracious...of you to say." Certainly, all your troubles are alleviated, now that this nobody has deemed your name 'fine.'
Is is short for anything? Like mine?
"I'm afraid...not. 'Tom' simply stands for...Tom."
You're rather like Harry, then. Some people think his name is short for 'Harold', but no, it's just Harry. I think that's perfect for him, anyway. 'Harold Potter' would sound so odd, don't you think? So stuffy and old. It wouldn't suit him at all.
"I wouldn't...know." There she goes bringing up that 'Potter' fellow again. You're about to inquire further, when her writing interrupts you for the umpteenth time.
Do you have a last name, Tom?
You give a frustrated sigh that is, thankfully, inaudible.
"Look at my spine...Ginny," you instruct. "Is there...not a name?"
Give me one second.
You're briefly plunged into darkness as your cover closes, and you feel yourself turned on your side. It isn't long before her genius detective work is complete and she's writing in you once more.
Yes, there is! 'T.M. Riddle.' I can't believe I didn't notice before. I was just so excited to start writing in you, I must have missed it.
"It can happen...to the best of us."
I think Tom Riddle is a good name. It's interesting!
"I'm glad...that you think so," you say, and you can sense her sincerity, even through the shallow emotional bond this light conversation has created. Not one to guard her emotions, this girl. Unfortunate for her -- but oh so advantageous for you. "What a coincidence. We both...dislike...our own names. Yet we admire...the other's."
Yeah. It's pretty funny, isn't it?
"Perhaps...I was meant...to fall into your hands." You would have preferred other, more skilled hands, make no mistake. But, given circumstances, you must make the most of the hands you're in.
Maybe.
The bond flickers for a moment, threatening to sever. Her attention must have been drawn elsewhere -- and you must fix that. Fast. Returning to the topic she seemed so effusive about before, you say, almost frantic, "Do you have any sisters, Ginny?"
This seems to draw her eyes back to you. You relax somewhat, though you brace for another outpouring of her complaints.
None. None at all. You'd think out of seven children, Mum could have managed one more girl, but no. I'm the only girl. And the youngest. I'm sure that's why they all pick on me so much.
"Are they...much older than you?"
Percy's four years older than me. Fred and George are three...Ron's only one year older.
Hesitation there. A sign of insecurity, perhaps? You press your advantage.
"Only one year. How...fortunate. You two must be...very close."
You expect another pause, but instead, the girl starts in on it with the same vigor as before.
No, we aren't. Not really. I always wanted to be, since we were always the 'babies', but Ron never wanted to play with me once he got older. Said he didn't want to play 'girl games'. Always sided with the twins. He wouldn't ever let me play with him and his friends when they came over with their brooms, even though he knows I can fly. Probably better than him. And now, he's best friends with Harry, and he's just as bad as Fred and George about mocking me--
"What do they...mock you about...Ginny?" you ask, taking your turn to interrupt her.
The bond tenses with a familiar feeling. A secret a moment before it is shared -- though it is one you have already guessed, given her infatuated drivel.
You have to promise you won't tell anyone, Tom. It's a secret. And it's so, so embarrassing.
"My dear girl...who would I tell? I am...for your eyes only. And your words...will never resurface...unless I let them," you say. "I would not let them."
You feel a bizarre mix of relief and excitement from Ginny. If you do not already have her at your beck and call, you will. Soon.
Okay. If you're serious.
"Completely."
...I have a crush on Harry. And even though I haven't told anyone -- well, until now -- everyone already seems to know. That's what they all make fun of me for.
"How...cruel. To mock someone's truest feelings..."
I know, Tom. I know. It makes me want to cry sometimes, it really does.
"No friends...to share this burden with?" you ask. "No one...to listen?"
I know some of the local girls. Mum invited them over sometimes when I was littler. But they're hardly ever around now, and I didn't like any of them well enough to write. They wouldn't understand anyway. No one does, and if they do, they just make fun of me.
She's trembling with emotion now, possibly on the verge of tears, though you can't truly tell without seeing her.
"It must...be so terribly lonely."
Several meaningless scratches of ink fall down to you as her quill brushes the paper, trying to put her words into thoughts. Finally, you see a single, short message.
Yes. It is.
But with impressive speed, she covers up her brief moment of vulnerability and continues to write.
That's why I'm so excited for Hogwarts! I'll finally have friends my own age, and I won't have to deal with stupid older brothers and stupid chores and stupid crushes living in my house for a month.
The girl's been writing for a while now, and her outpouring of emotion -- combined with your own minor draining -- has noticeably tired her out. You figure you'll have one last opportunity for the day to extract something from her. How do you wish to proceed?
[ ] You want to bring her attention back to her loneliness. You want to establish yourself as her source of comfort, her confidante, her only true friend.
[ ] You want to fan the flames of her anger towards her family. It will be best if she's isolated from them for what's to come.
[ ] You want to speak of happier things. She must associate you with positive emotions, for the time being, or she will not continue to write. Perhaps that Potter boy?
[ ] You want to ask more about the outside world. It will calm her down, and you can give the illusion that she is learning more about you in the process.
[ ] You want to pour a piece of yourself back into her. It will be difficult, it will not be significant, and it will take every ounce of strength you have gathered from this conversation. Depending on her self-awareness, it is possible she will detect it. But an early start to this process may prove to be worth it.
[ ] Write-in
Last edited:
- Location
- The Beginning of the End
[X] You want to speak of happier things. She must associate you with positive emotions, for the time being, or she will not continue to write. Perhaps that Potter boy?
[X] You want to speak of happier things. She must associate you with positive emotions, for the time being, or she will not continue to write. Perhaps that Potter boy?
will408914
(slouching towards bethlehem)
- Location
- California
[X] You want to pour a piece of yourself back into her. It will be difficult, it will not be significant, and it will take every ounce of strength you have gathered from this conversation. Depending on her self-awareness, it is possible she will detect it. But an early start to this process may prove to be worth it.
Patience is for the weak. Besides, even if Voldemort has no need for stealth, Tom Marvolo Riddle knows it well.
Patience is for the weak. Besides, even if Voldemort has no need for stealth, Tom Marvolo Riddle knows it well.
