This is a horror fic. It won't be slash, but that doesn't mean I don't write it...just not this one story. Set in Third Year.

Book Cover Image by me! See my deviantArt for the whole drawing. :) I got a beta! The lovely Brandi (CNGB) has betaed these chapters.

Tom Riddle's Ghost: A Harry Potter Ghost Story

Near curfew just before winter holiday, the library was an eerie place. It was almost as though it resisted any holiday cheer at all. Fewer students were in the library at all, with only a few hours left before the end of term.

For a moment, it seemed as though wind were blowing through the stacks. Harry looked up from his search, puzzled. There was never even so much as a draft in the library…was there a school ghost, or was it some student prank? Harry was tempted to use the Marauder's Map, just for the novelty of it, but there wasn't much use if he actually left before curfew.

The odd coolness passed, and the lights dimmed. Harry sighed. Buckbeak's defense would have to wait.

"Ron?" Harry called quietly. But Ron had already gone back for the night, sullenly recalling the promise he'd given one of his brothers to write a letter. Hermione had gone with him, thinking to do the same.

There was a clatter of something hard hitting the stone floor, followed by a hollow thump.

Harry started. "What…" he began, squinting into the stacks.

"Mr. Potter."

He whirled around.

It was the librarian, Madam Pince. She gave him a thin, unfriendly smile. "It's nearly curfew. You should head back to the Gryffindor Tower for the night."

Harry nodded, saying, "Yes, ma'am." He gathered his bags and rushed past her, feeling her eyes on him until he passed the threshold.

Maybe Madam Pince is afraid of book-theft… he thought to himself. Yes, he decided, that was it. Madam Pince was not in the mood to deal with students.

Somewhere in the castle, a door slammed shut. Harry jumped again.

It was a few moments before he realized it. Harry's footsteps were echoing. He noticed three turns from the library… Harry glanced around, wondering if he might be mistaking another's for an echo. But he was alone. No one in sight and stopped in the corridor; it was as silent as Hogwarts ever got.

Harry walked on. There! It was back. Harry turned around in an instant, hoping to startle whoever was following him.

The sound of footsteps had stopped again.

Harry forgot all pretense of calm and ran, feet pounding on the flags.

The footstep echoes raced after him. Harry turned, hoping to see feet carelessly visible from beneath another Invisibility Cloak, but there was nothing. He clenched his teeth and made a decision; he turned around, skidding to a stop as he pulled his wand. Aimed.

"Expelliarmus!" he shouted, followed by "Petrificus Totalus! Protego!" each in a subtly different angle, as he braced for an attack that could come from any direction.

The footsteps raced, light and fast as a child's. They became louder and louder. It's right here. Harry thought as he was struck by a biting sense of cold. The air seemed to tremble.

Harry let loose another string of curses. He felt a gust—more of a gale, the way his hair and robes billowed around him, tearing his books and parchment from his arms.

The cold was as uncomfortable as it was unfamiliar. Then his scar throbbed first, and then an intense pain accompanied by that strange pulse of complicated emotion—something like hunger, mixed with curiosity?

Then it was gone as quickly as it started, his quills rolling to a stop.

The hallway was empty now, Harry was sure of it. Quietly, Harry collected his things and returned to the tower. But he was left with the surety that something happened—something he didn't understand.

What's going on?

Part II
X

When Harry woke, he had the sensation he'd been running for a long time. He knew his heart was thumping wildly in his chest, and he felt…an echo of something else tapping heavily on his sternum.

He rolled on his side, squinting for his glasses and wand on the bedside table. But a whispered, "Lumos lit enough for him to see, and he froze.

There were drops of blood on his pillow.

He scrambled for his glasses, and he put a finger to his lips. He tentatively tasted for the salty signs of a split lip or a chewed cheek, and brought a finger to his mouth. His hands came away clean.

"What…" he muttered. Then he shut his mouth tightly. What if Ron woke up?

Then he felt something: a slight pain behind his eyes, and a dizzy sensation. He grabbed his wand and frantically went over the possible spells he could use in case of attack, and thought of the only possible explanation.

"I've been cursed." he whispered, horrified.

Drip.

Another spot on his pillow. He looked up, directing his wand at the canopies. There was nothing there.

But there was a sensation of drowning. The feel of something wet on his cheek. And again, in his ear, as though he'd been doused with water.

Someone's bed creaked.

Hesitantly, Harry wiped at his eyes. Red. His fingers were spotted with blood.

"No!" Harry hissed. He leapt away from his bunk with revulsion. He was bleeding from the eyes and ears. Bile filled his throat. What kind of a curse…? Who…?

His fingers trembled around his wand. Was it Black? Or had he somehow touched a cursed item?

I can't stay here. he thought. Black…he's only after me. But I can't go anywhere. A tempos spell revealed it to be barely three in the morning.

Ron mumbled and turned over in his sleep.

That settled it. I'll lead him out. Harry thought, distracted. He tried to block all thoughts of that unknown figure. The footsteps following him, the sensation of someone watching. That time hardly counted as a real threat, and Black…he might have found a way in. (*) Black, who had been responsible for the deaths of his parents, was a very real threat indeed.

Harry pulled his robes over him, not bothering to dress. He had to get out now. He'd lead the attacker away and corner them. If he got into the halls, one of the teachers would notice him, wouldn't they? Someone would see the murderous, traitorous Black.

But something about the whole experience was strange. Harry clearly remembered Hermione's lectures on Hogwarts…you can't Apparate in. And Harry more than anyone knew what to look for if he suspected an Invisibility Cloak…there were no telltale signs. So. Could it be…something other than Black?

"But what?" he said.

Harry's vision was blurry. He wiped at his lenses, but it was to no avail. Nervously, he slipped out of the dormitory and into the common room. If he was playing bait…he shouldn't wear the Invisibility Cloak. But leaving it altogether...

"No, there's no time." Harry muttered, desperate to break the silence.

So he opened the portal slowly, drew his cloak up around his ears, and tried not to think about how cold he was. He stepped through.

"Who…" Sir Cadogan mumbled. (*) Indistinct mutterings and a small snore revealed he was half asleep.

But Harry could not hear. The blood was warm, and it slowly dripped onto his neck. He closed the door with a back-handed push, and flew past without facing the knight.

The night was dark, and his vision was blurry, and his socks too worn. As soon as Harry left the brightly lit dorm corridor and entered the hall, he realized how deep the night was when the moon hid behind heavy snow clouds. Harry walked on in the vague direction of the Hospital Wing, and his feet made little sound.

The feeling of being watched returned. No human sound greeted him—he shook his head, trying to clear it. There was no black or ominous figure to meet his sore eyes, and no attack to light the gloom. But he could feel that cold gaze on his neck, and then a chill rushed down his spine. As though a cold hand touched, no, grasped his heart, then clenched down on his arm.

Something flashed so brightly in front of him, his eyes stung and throbbed, but Harry couldn't be sure if it was real or not.

"Who's there?" Harry called, trying to sound confident. "What do you want?" Harry cringed in the dark, but there wasn't so much as a wind…

Harry wondered if the thing, whatever it was, couldn't speak. Or maybe it had some other way to communicate… "Are you part of the castle?" Harry chewed his lip. That wasn't the right question... "Are you trying to hurt me? No….that's even worse. Um...

"What are you? What do you want?" Harry burst out.

"Harry...Potter..." It almost seemed to whisper, and yet to howl, it sounded so angry. Or was it anguish? Loss? Harry backed up against the wall, taking reassurance from the cool, steady stone.

"What?" He wanted to deny its existence, to deny the very possibility of some thing being there with him. But that was no longer possible, not in an ancient castle whose very walls were made of magic. "What do you want?" Less afraid now and more determined, Harry fingered his wand. His stomach calmed, though he could now taste the blood on his tongue. Had it dripped down from his nose? Or was he bleeding in more places than before?

"Wha...wha..what will you do, little Harry?" The voice was distorted, almost like an echo. A high pitched ringing noise rang through Harry's ear, and he wondered if he were hearing anything at all.

"This could be a dream. I could still be dreaming... a sort of waking dream or something... I bet if I cast a spell, you'll change into something absurd, but visible. Or just a regular monster..." Talking made the shivery feeling fade, made the feeling of being watched less pronounced. It didn't matter that Harry didn't really think he was dreaming.

He thought back to the Boggart Professor Lupin showed them back at the beginning of term. But Harry had only ever seen the Dementors…And Boggarts didn't make anyone bleed. Did Riddikulus work on anything else? It was worth a shot.

Harry stood up straighter and held out his wand. "Riddikulus!"
The laughter was worse than the taunting words, swirling together in peals that soon became a maelstrom.
His feet clacked against the stone floor. He hurtled down the hallway, no longer thinking of finding a teacher. The need to hide, to catch his breath, was overwhelming...he had to regroup, figure out what it was, and how to defeat it. Right. Harry thought to himself. It doesn't look like it's Sirius Black after all...but who could it be? Another of Voldemort's followers?
He pushed against the door, and lurched to a stop. His glasses had slipped down to the edge of his nose, and his hair obscured one eye. The now familiar cold and sense of dread didn't stay confined to the hallways, however. Harry looked up wildly, searching for the source. He gave an involuntary shout of surprise as he caught sight of himself in the bathroom mirror.
There was only a dim light— perhaps left aglow for emergencies— and not the shining, glistening brightness he was accustomed to. Nothing was out of place, though. The mirrors and the hand sinks, and past that corner, Harry knew he'd see the toilet stalls. All was as it should be. And yet...
His eyes flitted from mirror to wall. He'd seen a sort of shift, something less than a shadow, across one of the reflections. He squinted, dodged to the side in case of attack, and tried to stop his pounding heart.

A dark shadow fell across the mirror, but the shadow dripped and oozed- not a shadow at all. "Blood?" Harry felt the word catch in his throat.
"You're going mad." the boy in the mirror said. "Of course there's no blood in a school bathroom…" the voice was smooth, mocking. He'd heard it before.

Harry stared. "You…"

"Let me in, Harry Potter." The boy pressed up against the glass, and it was overtaken with mist.

Harry's teeth began to chatter.

The boy's lips quirked just a bit. "What's the matter, Harry?" The feeling of cold intensified.

Harry blinked slowly. "I…." he started, "I know you."

The boy's eyes widened. He had nothing to say to that.

"Tom Riddle," Harry muttered, "you're dead. I killed you."

The boy frowned then.

"You can't take over my body, or Ginny's. The diary's gone!" he shouted, and his voice echoed up and down the hallway. He wiped the blood from his face.

"I'll think you'll find you're wrong on both accounts." Tom said quietly, and Tom Riddle leaned in.

Harry felt himself falling, and he wondered…if it were already too late.

tbc...

(**) The Fat Lady was gone from the Gryffindor Tower between October 31st to February 6th.

tbc. Next chapter: Riddle's Mind.