HP: Vampire Professor

Tom Riddle is very confused right now.

He did not know where he was, what he should do, or even if "Tom Riddle" was truly his name anymore. He was, after all, little more than a memory, bound to the pages of a discarded diary.

His consciousness swam back to the previous day, to the suffocating confines of Quirrell's cramped office.

The professor was out, leaving only the spectral, handsome form of a young man standing by the window, staring down at the open diary on the desk.

"I will make my move on the Philosopher's Stone tomorrow," the phantom had said, his voice a low, confident murmur.

On the blank page, a line of elegant ink bled into existence, forming words of pure, unadulterated annoyance.

"You are already wearing my body. Must you still consult with me?"

The handsome phantom was Voldemort's main soul, using the form that the diary Horcrux had painstakingly condensed for itself.

"Have you forgotten your place?" the phantom's voice grew cold, a hint of the Dark Lord's true rage seeping through. "I am the prime soul. You are but an echo, a memory I chose to preserve. Without the knowledge I left within these pages, you would be nothing."

The ink on the page seemed to sharpen, the reply swift and cutting. "And yet, for all your power, you were defeated by an infant."

The phantom's handsome face twisted in a spasm of fury. For a long moment, he seemed on the verge of tearing the diary to shreds. Finally, with a deep, shuddering breath, he regained his composure.

"I did not summon you for an argument," Voldemort said, his voice now a low, dangerous hiss. "I have something important to tell you. Something that concerns my resurrection, and our shared future."

He paused, letting the words hang in the air. "You want your body back, do you not? Very well. I will give it back to you."

The ink on the page rippled, a visible sign of the diary's shock. After a long moment, a new sentence formed. "Are you serious? Why?"

"After absorbing the unicorn's life force, I no longer require the body you so kindly provided," Voldemort said. As he spoke, the handsome phantom dissolved, flowing back into the open diary like smoke into a bottle. In its place, another figure appeared by the window—a creature with waxy, distorted features, a missing nose, and no hair. This was his true, diminished form.

"Tomorrow's plan is of the utmost importance," Voldemort rasped, his scarlet eyes flashing. "But my enemies are formidable. Dumbledore and Dracula... I cannot face them as I am now. The diversions I have planned will not hold them for long."

He turned his monstrous face to the diary. "Therefore, tomorrow's plan is destined to fail."

"What do you need me to do?" the diary asked, a note of hesitation in its script.

"Nothing," Voldemort said, his eyes dark with cunning. "You will do nothing. I will hide you in the safest place in this castle. Your only task is to survive."

"Remember," he hissed, "every Horcrux is a piece of my life, and I do not risk my own life. I will repossess the fool Quirrell. He is cannon fodder. That is all."

The diary was silent for a moment before two final words appeared on the page.

"I understand."

The diary lay dormant in what Voldemort had called "the safest place," spending a full day wrapped in a cold, quiet dread. Then, as the evening sun bled across the sky, a frantic, psychic jolt ripped through Tom Riddle's soul.

He felt it—the main soul, his other self, was in peril. Its presence was moving with impossible speed, growing closer and closer, its terror and desperation screaming across the psychic link between them.

He saw a flash of it through the high window—a skull-faced cloud of black smoke, streaking past the castle's main tower. In the instant it was closest, a final, frantic message burned itself into his mind.

"LURK. THE DIADEM WILL HELP YOU. GET POTTER'S BLOOD!!!"

Then, just as a strange, dark moon bloomed in the twilight sky, the connection snapped. The main soul was gone.

"Alas," the handsome phantom sighed, emerging from the diary. He was alone, adrift in a sea of confusion. What was he supposed to do now? Follow the last, desperate command of a dying soul? He hesitated. He knew nothing of why Voldemort wanted Potter's blood. And the thought of acting with Dumbledore and Dracula roaming the castle sent a chill through his spectral form.

His thoughts drifted to the second part of the message. The diadem beside you will help you.

He looked around, but saw nothing of the sort. Still, Voldemort would not have wasted his last breath on useless information. Riddle raised his head and truly took in his surroundings.

He stood in a room the size of a cathedral, the last rays of sunset casting long, dusty beams of light across mountains of forgotten things. It was a city of high walls, built from the hidden treasures and discarded secrets of generations of Hogwarts students.

"The Room of Requirement," Riddle murmured, the name surfacing from the memories of his youth.

An urge to explore took hold of him. He picked up his diary and began to walk through the narrow canyons of junk. He passed teetering piles of broken furniture, a testament to failed spellwork; stacks of forbidden, scribbled-on, and stolen books; rusted swords and a blood-stained axe; and countless bottles of solidified, long-forgotten potions, some of which still pulsed with a faint, malevolent light.

As he wandered, he felt it—a low, hoarse call from deep within his soul. It was a feeling of kinship, of a shared origin.

Another Horcrux.

He turned abruptly, following the call down a new path. He passed the taxidermied remains of a giant, foul-smelling monster and finally stopped before a large, blistered cabinet. Beside it, perched atop a crate, was the dilapidated statue of an ugly old warlock. And tucked behind it, glinting in the faint light, was a rusty, tarnished diadem.

Just then, the last of the sunset faded from the sky. Two moons, one silver and one a deep, shadowy black, rose in its place. A soft, clear moonlight streamed through the high windows, and a single, brilliant sapphire on the ancient diadem flashed, as if waking from a long, dreamless sleep.

(End of Chapter)

***

[Check Out My Patreon For More Chapters On All

Of My Fanfics!!] [www. [email protected]/meowthtl]

[+300 Power Stones = +1 Bonus Chapter]

[+500 Power Stones = +1 Extra Chapter]

[Thank You For Your Support!]