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Published:
2015-03-22
Updated:
2015-04-08
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2/?
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Painted Fate

Summary:

Harry Potter finds a portrait of Tom Riddle. How much damage can one conversation do?

Notes:

Alright, hello everyone! Here is my first stab at writing fanfiction. I hope it is to your liking. And remember, constructive criticism can be a life saver!

There are more chapters to come, but it might be awhile.

Chapter 1

Chapter Text

"What?!"

Hermione looked anxiously over at Harry. "I know. I couldn't believe it either, but I saw it myself."

"But a portrait of 'Tom Riddle'!" Harry said, flabbergasted. "But- Why- How?!"

"Apparently," Hermione explained, "at the time, they would make portraits of the Head Boy and Girl. But it ended up getting too expensive so they stopped. It seems that the rest of the portraits have been put in storage. But his was hidden." Hermione continued to look at Harry as if he could explode at any moment. Which he very well could.

"Alright," said Harry, trying to calm himself down. Besides, it's just a portrait, what harm could it do? "So where's it hidden?"

Hermione looked around nervously, "The Room of Requirement. But a different version of it. The Room was huge, much bigger than I've ever seen it, and filled with all sorts of old junk. Some of seemed pretty interesting."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Show me."

~o0o~

"You're right. This place is full junk."

Harry observed this as they climbed over said junk.

"How did you even find the portrait?" Harry asked.

"Well when I found this place," she said as she stepped over a chair to get to the other side of a large pile of junk, "I was not only very surprised but obviously curious. So for the past few days I've been exploring as much of this place as possible."

"Oh," he said as her recent behavior suddenly clicked. "So that's where you've been disappearing to. Ron just thought you were going to the library."

"Of course he did," she said, rolling her eyes.

A few moments later they came to a small clearing against the wall.

"Well," Hermione said expectantly, "here we are."

Harry walked up to the lone painting on the wall. It was surrounded by towers of stuff, but it was the only portrait in sight. The occupant of the painting was currently asleep, curled up in a large arm chair, which was the only furniture in the painting. The small plaque on the frame proclaimed the sleeping figure as 'Tom Marvolo Riddle - Head Boy - 1943'. Harry thought Tom looked quite peaceful when asleep. The complete opposite of how he was when awake. Harry was nervous about waking Tom, but pulled up some of his Gryffindor courage and prepared to speak.

"Um, hello?" When he got no answer, he cleared his throat and spoke loader. "Hello? Tom?"

Tom stirred and look around sleepily. "Hmm. Can I help you?" he said with a yawn.

"Uh, well, um." said the ever eloquent Harry.

Tom raised an eyebrow at him.

Thankfully Hermione was there to help him out. "Why are you in here and not with the other Head Boy and Girl portraits in the storage room?"

"Hello to you too." he muttered before saying, "I was hidden here by the original Tom. He wished for me to 'keep an eye' on some items for him."

Harry took this moment to rejoin the conversation, "What items?"

Tom gave him a look that very clearly said 'like I'm going to tell you.'

Harry and Hermione shared an annoyed look.

Tom stared at them. "Well if you don't have any more questions..."

"Wait!"

Tom, once again, raised an eyebrow at the two fifth years.

In his haste, Harry asked the first question that crossed his mind, "Why'd you do it?"

A slightly confused expression crossed Tom's face. "Why did I do what?"

"Why did you kill Myrtle?"

Tom gave Harry a very calculated look. "I did not mean to kill her. She was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time."

Before either Harry or Hermione could react to the revelation, Tom reminded them of the time and they hurried out to the corridor.

But little did Harry know, that as he walked to class, cracks started to form in his beliefs of everything that Lord Voldemort was. All due to a seemingly insignificant conversation, and everything that was to follow.

Chapter 2

Notes:

I am so sorry about how late this is. Life, specifically spring break and my band preparing for concert festival (which we got full superiors in so now we're going to state), got in the way. Hopefully the next chapter will be up quicker.

Chapter Text

Several days later, Harry found himself climbing through the junk in The Room of Hidden Things, (Hermione told him it was called that) to find the portrait of someone he was honestly surprised to find he wanted to talk to.

Tom didn't seem to notice Harry's approach, since he was curled up in the arm chair reading a book.

"Where did you get a book?" asked Harry. There weren't any bookshelves in the painting, and the rest of the paintings in The Room were no longer intact, therefore inaccessible.

The only response Harry got was a smirk. Tom didn't even bother to look up.

"You were quite rude the other day, not introducing yourself," Tom said, breaking the short silence. He still hadn't looked up from the book.

"Harry. Harry Potter," said the teen indigently.

"Hmm. Potter. You must be related to Charlus then. I do hope you're not as stupid as him."

Harry gaped at him. "Who's being rude now?"

Once again, a sly smirk stole on to Tom's face.

"Anyway," said Harry, thinking it best to change the subject before things got out of hand. "What did you mean, when you said you didn't mean to kill Myrtle?"

At this, Tom finally looked up and closed his book. The same calculating look from before crossed his face. "You seem very certain that I killed her."

"But you said-"

"I know what I said," Tom said, cutting Harry off. "I want to know how you found out."

Harry went on to tell him about the adventures of his second year. Tom was quiet through out the story and only spoke when Harry finished.

"We are going to discuss these events at a later date, because if we do so now, we will get horribly off topic and your question will go unanswered. So, to answer your question I'm going to start off by telling you that I am not out kill muggleborns." Tom held up a hand to stop Harry's protest. "I know what you're thinking but you're wrong. I believe muggleborns can do our world good. All this pureblood inbreeding is weakening us and many muggleborns are far smarter and powerful than them. We need to integrate them into our culture and introduce fresh blood and power to the old lines. We also need to stop changing our culture just for them, but that is a discussion for another time. My point is, that at the time I was working on getting Myrtle on my side, she would make a very good spy and give me a foothold in Ravenclaw. The day she died, I was at the entrance to the chamber giving the basilisk new orders when Myrtle walked in. That is the truth and if you don't believe me, then that's your problem"

Harry shook his head in disbelief and shock. "Honestly, I don't believe you, but what you said about muggleborns actually makes sense and sounds like something I'd be willing to support. It just sounds weird coming from you."

"And why's that?" Tom asked, raising an eyebrow.

"What do you know of the outside world?" asked Harry nervously. Who knows what could happen when Tom found out what he had become.

"Nothing," Tom shrugged, "The Room doesn't let me leave without willing permission from a occupant."

Harry sighed and resigned himself to his fate. Harry told Tom about the rise and fall of Voldemort.

Tom was able to stay quite calm through out the story. When Harry finished he spoke.

"So what you're telling me is, that in my quest for immortality, I ended up going completely insane and forgetting all of my intricate plans in place for mindless murder?" Tom asked in a surprisingly calm voice. The only way Harry could tell how angry he was, was by his normally dark blue eyes turning scarlet.

"Um, yeah. Sorry," Harry shrugged.

Tom sighed. "No matter. What's done is done. Now, do you have anything else you wish to inquire of me?"

"Where did you get that book?"

Again, Tom smirked. "Do you really think that the real Tom would leave a normal portrait to watch over his belongings? One that could do nothing if something did happen to the items? Of course he made some alterations and additions to the magic that makes this portrait possible."

"So, does that mean you have, like, special powers or something?" asked Harry. He was somewhat confused. What was Tom getting at?

Tom chuckled. Like, actually chuckled. "Yes, you could say that. But there is something very specific I can do."

"Oh, and what's that?"

Tom gave Harry a wicked smile and said, "I can leave the painting."