The very not-a-secret diary
Christmas break had eventually ended, and majority of the students that left were hesitant to return. A lot of people were shocked to hear that nobody had been petrified; some, oddly enough, frustrated that Harry had yet to been removed from school grounds; but many more were still convinced, for whatever reason, that Harry was truly the heir of Slytherin because he was now hanging around who was apparently the Slytherin Prince-- whatever that meant. And classes only added to the everlasting headache.
"Isn't Lockhart just the smarmiest bloke you've ever met or what?" said Ron tiredly one afternoon, as they did their homework. He had been stuck on one of Lockhart's quizzes. "'What is Gilderoy Lockhart's best physical asset?' How am I supposed to even choose one when he hasn't got any?!"
"Oh, Ron, just say his face. It's all just so he feels better about himself," Lisa said, yawning and doing her Transfiguration homework. "He just wants someone other than his own portraits to say he looks good."
"He does look good," said Padma immediately, leaning on her hand to stare at the roof aimlessly. Lisa said nothing, but instead stared at her with disgust before rolling her eyes.
"Harry, that's not what goes into a strengthening potion," said Draco, glancing over to peek at Harry's Potions homework.
"What? Yes it is. See-- salamander blood."
"That says salamamer blood. A 'salamamer' isn't even a thing. You need new glasses."
Harry squinted, but the words looked like a blur-- he could've sworn he wrote salamander. "I don't."
Hermione looked over and snorted. "He's right, you really need new glasses."
"Whatever, I'm taking a break," said Harry, standing up, his ears burning. What did they know, anyway? They didn't have glasses. They wouldn't understand why he couldn't just up and get new ones. "and my glasses are just fine. I can see perfectly well out of them. I just have... poor reading skills."
"I'm joining you, I need a brain-break. I can't remember the incantation for that shrinking spell," Lisa said, pushing aside her homework.
Draco shrugged, standing up. "I've already finished my more important homework."
Padma shook her head, focusing on her Transfiguration homework as well. Ron went to stand up, but Hermione stopped him.
"You haven't even finished a single page of work-- they've finished three, minimum!" She scolded, placing his quill back into his hand as Harry, Draco, and Lisa walked out the Library. A shout from upstairs sounded not even before they took five steps.
"Filch?" Draco scoffed. "What's he screaming about?"
"I'm going to go see," Lisa said, running for the stairs. Harry followed after her-- he supposed that a break, even if it was to see what Filch was doing, was a break at all. Begrudgingly, Draco came and joined them. They paused halfway up the staircase, out of sight and listening closely. Filch sounded hysterical.
"-- even more work for me! Mopping all night, like I haven't got enough to do! NO-- this is my final straw, I'm going to Dumbledore--"
His footsteps receded-- he'd gone down the nearby corridor. They finished the staircase and went to see what had made him so angry; Filch had been manning his usual post, where Mrs Norris had been found. After only a glance, they knew at once what had done it-- the floor had been near completely flooded, and it seemed that it was all coming from the door to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, still seeping out. Now that Filch was gone, it took no time to notice her wails were louder than usual.
"Now what's wrong with her?" muttered Harry.
"We don't have to know," Draco said, just as Lisa said, "Let's find out!"
They turned to stare at eachother immediately and both frowned.
"I want to go see," said Lisa.
"I don't. Who cares for Myrtle?"
"Well, I don't, but I like knowing things. And I doubt it's just Filch that's got her crying this badly. Not even-- she floods the bathrooms when something makes her super sad, not just normally-- most of the time, it's because she can't kill herself because of something else happening-- and Filch was complaining about the floors being flooded already, so he couldn't've caused it. Logic!"
"And where's that logic when it matters?" said Draco, rolling his eyes. "You just want to find out what's going on."
"Yeah, I already said that. Come on, Harry."
Harry blinked. "Me?"
"You can be my bodyguard. Draco won't come with us."
"Oh, thanks a lot."
"You're so welcome. Come on," Lisa said again, dragging Harry to the bathroom. Draco sighed, following after them and holding up his robes. Lisa pushed open the door, beaming at the OUT OF ORDER sign.
Myrtle was crying in her usual stall, louder and harder than normal. And it was even louder in the bathroom. It was very dark, for most of the candles had been put out by the floods of water leaving the walls and floor wet.
"What's wrong, Myrtle?" Lisa asked, walking on her toes and failing to not sound terribly enthusiastic.
"Who's that?" Myrtle shouted miserably. "Come to throw something else at me?"
"Why would we throw anything at you?" Harry asked, stepping over to her stall. His shoes were wet anyway, like he'd cared at this point.
"Don't ask me!" Myrtle screamed, and another wave of water splashed the already sopping wet floor. "Here I am, minding my own business, and someone thinks it's funny to throw a book at me!"
"You're a ghost, it'd phase through you anyway," Draco muttered, and it seemed Myrtle heard, for yet another wave came up as she puffed up; "Oh yes, let's all throw books at Myrtle, because she can't feel it! Ten points if it goes through her stomach! Fifty if you get it through her head! Ha, ha, ha! What a lovely game-- I don't think so!" She shrieked.
"Who threw it at you anyway?" Lisa asked, hoisting herself up on a sink.
"I don't know! I was just sitting in the U-bend, thinking about death, and it fell right through my head!" Myrtle said angrily. "It's over there-- it got all washed out. And good for it, I hope it's ruined..."
Under the sink Lisa had sat on, a small thin book sat. It was as wet as everything else. She went to grab it, but Draco used a sharp Wingardium Leviosa to get it before she did. "No."
"What? Why?"
"Nobody just flushes a book down a toilet. Who knows what's in it."
"You say that like a book can actually be dangerous." Harry said.
"You'd be surprised what kind of trouble the Ministry's gotten over books," Draco sighed. "My mother's a Ministry worker, and she's told me all about people getting put in Azkaban over banned books. There's been books that've burned people's eyes out, left them speaking in limericks for the rest of their lives-- there's a book that's left people reading it until they've died, and--"
"We get it, but we're not going to know anything unless we look at it. And a student had it," Harry said, and before Draco knew what he'd done, he'd swiped the book out of the air. It was a diary; Harry could barely see a faded year on the cover that was fifty years ago. He opened it slowly, forcing soggy pages apart. Lisa peered over his shoulder, and on the first page, in smudged ink, was written 'T.M. Riddle.'
"T.M. Riddle?" Lisa read, and she scoffed. "And I thought my initials were weird. T-M-R? Hey- that sounds like it could be like, tomorrow! Get it?"
Harry nodded and forced the more pages apart. They were blank. Not even a drop of ink.
"Well he never wrote in it.... No idea why someone would try to flush it away..."
"He was probably a- er- Muggle-born." said Draco, "Bought a diary and forgot about it. Now can we leave? I don't want to be any wetter than I have to be," Draco said, already walking go the door.
"Yeah, we can leave. I don't want to be here anymore either." Harry said, and Lisa hopped off the sink.
When they returned to the library and explained what they'd found, Lisa and Padma had begun coming up with theories as to who Riddle could've been.
"Maybe he managed to get 'Outstanding' on twelve O.W.L.s?"
"Maybe he saved a teacher from being attacked or killed!"
"Maybe he killed Myrtle," Ron said sarcastically. "He'd be a great help if he'd done that. Hell-- he got an award for something, around then! When me and Mione had to clean trophies, he had a special services one!"
"Maybe he caught the last heir of Slytherin." Hermione said slowly.
"What gives you that idea, 'Mione?" Harry asked.
"Well, the last time the Chamber was opened was fifty years ago, wasn't it? There's not anything written in the diary, I know, but that doesn't mean it's not a possibility. After that hour we spent, I've remembered that thing entirely-- it was the exact same year as this diary."
Ron's ears disappeared from sight and his ears went pink. "Doesn't matter how long we spent, does it?"
"Yeah, it really doesn't." scoffed Draco, "But there's nothing else saying that it is. He could've gotten an award for anything. Yeah, it could be for catching the last heir, but there's plenty of other things that make more sense. He'd probably get an Order of Merlin or some sort for that."
"He's right," Harry agreed hesitantly. "We'd probably be better off searching history books to see if we come across his name instead of guessing what he could've done."
Days passed, and the first Saturday of February grew nearer, and Harry had to admit, he felt nervous. Anytime she could, it was all Lisa could talk about. Her mother had sent all of them three death's-head hawk moth chrysalises, the final thing they'd needed for the Animagus potion, and Lisa had taken it even more seriously from then on. It was a surprise to both Harry and Padma if she'd manage to go five minutes without whispering to one of them about it. And she'd been pestering Draco too--
As helpful as it was, Harry couldn't help but worry about multiple things-- what if it was cloudy? What if the potion didn't work? But there was one question he couldn't make sense of; Why hadn't he thrown away Riddle's diary?
He couldn't explain to anyone, including himself, why it still sat on his bedside table. The pages were blank, and he knew that, for he checked it nearly everyday, hoping something had appeared, but to no avail. He didn't understand why T.M. Riddle felt so familiar. He had never heard the name in his life, but it felt like if he tossed the diary, he wouldn't have ever forgiven himself. It was like he was throwing out an old friend that he'd forgotten, which made even less sense, because he'd never had friends before Hogwarts, and he definitely hadn't met any Riddle recently; or ever.
He was determined to figure out who Riddle was.
On Wednesday, he went to the library with his friends to see if they could find anything under the surname 'Riddle'. And fortunately enough, they did.
"He was Prefect and Head Boy when he attended Hogwarts." Harry said, rolling up the parchment he found. And maybe put aside another parchment that he found very interesting, but he was sure if he hid it deep enough in his robe pockets, Madam Pince wouldn't notice-- and the spell she loved to put on Library things, for whatever reason, was only a problem if he damaged the thing. Which he wouldn't.
"He sounds like Percy," Ron muttered.
"How does some random person being Head Boy remind you of your brother?" Draco asked confusedly, and Ron immediately went into a furious tangent, "Don't get me started! Since his first year, he's been going on and on about how he'll be the best Head Boy nonstop, and it'd probably be worse if he knew about Riddle, he'd go totally berserk--"
He went quiet when Lisa and Padma slammed multiple books on the table.
"You will never guess what we found!" Lisa said, smiling. "Um- not about Riddle. It's... a Ravenclaw thing, so only Harry gets to know."
The moment they were out of earshot, Padma whispered, "We found more books about Animagi! Like the possible forms you could have! Madam Pince will be none the wiser if we take them!"
Harry took a look at one of the book covers.
'Animagi for Dummies by Prof. Julia Santos'.
"Was she really a professor?"
"Well, we are looking at school records, what's stopping us from searching?" Lisa suggested, giggling. Then, she coughed, and after a moment, spat out her Mandrake leaf.
Padma said nothing, but instead slapped her hand to her face, and whispered, "Lisa, why'd you do that?"
"It was messing with me!" said Lisa silently, and she shrugged. "And as if you haven't had to replace yours--"
"That's different! It wasn't a week before the full moon!"
"Well, you were going to have to wait anyway-- it was two weeks ago! I don't think that makes a month!"
"Oh, hush! You weren't even supposed to know about that!"
"You did a poor job of hiding it, if I wasn't supposed to know! And, hush? You started it!"
Harry was beginning to feel crazy. When they read through their books, they'd taken out their Mandrake leaves to put them back in a month ago-- but he didn't know they'd both already messed up since then. But-- they'd had plenty of time.
"You guys know we have until the next storm?" he said, and Padma nodded, pointing at him. "That's exactly what I'm saying! We've got time-- I just think it's ridiculous you're ridiculing me for the exact thing you just did--"
"You ridiculed me first--"
"It was not ridiculing--"
"Oh, it wasn't? I'm sorry, I forgot you just sound eternally insulting--"
"That doesn't even--"
"Okay, okay, stop," Harry interrupted, "Both of you are gonna get us kicked out. And we 're still looking for stuff on Riddle, I'm pretty sure. Let's not focus on this."
The girls nodded, and Lisa took a deep breath before putting her leaf back in place. She then shrunk the books and shoved them in her pocket before they walked back to the others.
He couldn't wait for Saturday to arrive.
The next morning, the sun shone on Hogwarts cheerfully, albeit covered by clouds most days. The mood was a bit less dreary. There hadn't been a single attack since Justin and Nearly Headless Nick, and the Mandrakes were growing just perfectly, now preparing to leave childhood.
"The Heir's probably realised all that they're doing is stupid," Harry said hopefully. The voices told him off for it, but he supposed it'd alright for once.
"I'd better hope so," Draco agreed. "It's getting so tiring being asked everyday if you're the Heir or not, the real one needs to get caught."
Lisa and Padma had gone preparing valentines and had dragged Hermione along with them, much to her dismay, so it was just Harry, Draco, and Ron. Or, that was how it should've been-- Ginny had been following Ron around all day because she had been feeling bad, but he didn't really want his little sister hanging out with him and his friends.
"Gin', don't you have your own friends that you can go play with or something?" asked Ron, his ears very pink and low. "And you're freezing. Do you need to go see Madam Pomfrey, or something? Y'know, you can just ask..."
"I'm fine... I don't need- I'm just a bit cold. I... had Herbology. A-and can't I just stay around you for a bit?" Ginny replied, looking around frantically. "L-Luna and Neville had remedial classes... and- and... I just..."
Apparently she had been following around Fred, George, and Percy too, and it seemed it had been Ron's turn. He sighed, nodding, and she clung to his arm gratefully. He shivered, pulling down his sleeve before patting her shoulder sympathetically.
And even then, it was still a bit excessively off; Ernie MacMillan had been following them around too, however. He kept thinking Harry had stopped going after people because he had "given himself away" back at the Duelling Club. Peeves was helping everyone else believe it was him too, singing in the corridors; "Oh, Parseltongue Potter, you rotter..." If he were in a cheery mood, there'd even be a dance that was different every time.
Harry told himself he'd ignore Peeves, and Macmillan, and anything else irrelevant, but he heard Lockhart speaking to McGonagall about something and just couldn't help himself. It seemed Lockhart thought he was the sole reason that the Heir stopped.
"I don't think there'll be any more trouble, Minerva," he said, tapping his nose knowingly and winking. "I think the Chamber has been locked for good this time. The culprit must have known it was only a matter of time before I caught him. Rather sensible to stop now, before I came down hard on him. You know, what the school needs now is a morale-booster. Wash away the memories of last term! I won't say anymore just now, but I think I know just the thing..." He tapped his nose again and strode off. Professor McGonagall looked like she had just been ridiculed, by the pale grimace on her face.
Harry worried for whatever it was Lockhart had planned, but he had other things to be concerned about, because the full moon was growing closer. And then it was Saturday morning, and Lisa, despite the fact she wouldn't be doing a thing just yet, was immensely impatient.
"Have you talked to Draco about the potion? He's got to do it at night-- where are you gonna do it? You gotta do it somewhere where you get, er, pure rays from the moon, or whatever-- you should probably go outside," she said.
"We're not going outside," Harry said -- of course he'd already spoken with Draco. If it could be called speaking withim-- he'd been pulled aside in the middle of breakfast and given an immediate lecture on what they'd do. "I don't know how he's gonna do it, so don't ask, but we're going to the dungeons. Says he knows a spell or something, so we don't have to worry about the moonlight-- we've just got to be at the potions classroom 'round eleven. He said Snape won't be there--"
"And you believe him? You think he's telling the truth?" said Lisa. "I mean-- I know he's your friend, and that, and you don't think he'd lie, but you do remember he was telling us off for days about this because it was illegal? I mean- not that I'm saying anything bad- but what if--"
"You're rambling."
"Oh, great. Yeah, I know. And--"
And he'd had to listen to her rambling for another ten minutes before she'd let him go.
It had been a long day of waiting, but when the time had finally come, he'd felt a bit excited. Nervous, too, obviously-- more nervous even, but he felt so excited he could hardly tell. And it seemed Lisa and Padma were just as excited, because they'd followed him out the common room and slipped right under the cloak with him at ten to eleven. They met Draco outside the classroom.
"You're late," he said.
"Not really," Harry shrugged, and it made Draco frown. "Well, sorry-- our common room's five floors up, you know. Getting down twenty something flights of stairs takes a while. What's the spell you were talking about, then?"
"You'll see." said Draco, his frown was gone at once, and he was now smirking a bit.
The Potions classroom was very dark, and very silent. It felt uncomfortable, being in there when there was no class at nearly the dead of night.
"Don't touch anything," said Draco warningly. "Severus will probably know if any of you except for me did it."
"Severus?" Lisa repeated, giggling. "You're on a first name basis with Snape?"
He rounded on her and snapped, "I could turn you in, you know. Or purposefully mess up your potion, whenever it's time to make it because Merlin forbid even you be idiotic enough to try on your own. But no, I'm not, because this one--" he pointed at Harry, "-- is going to get all mad if I do."
"She's sorry, now come on, hurry up and start a fire or something," said Padma hurriedly. "It's bloody cold down here."
Draco scoffed, but got started all the same-- and, once he saw Harry frowning, set a fire at the nearest grate. Almost the instant the flame began to burn, it felt a million times warmer. And somehow-- Harry didn't know how, because Draco had turned his back and whispered the spell so quietly that he couldn't hear him even though he'd strained his ears-- a bright patch of direct moonlight hovered right above the tiny phial he'd been holding. And then he hadn't touched a single thing-- he'd levitated everything into the phial and didn't say a word, looking weirdly focused. Harry supposed it was just his own imagination and his potions grade was abysmal, in his opinion, but now that he was watching, it didn't look as hard as the book made it seem. It seemed quite simple, actually, but he'd rather not take a chance he didn't have to.
"Here," he said quietly after a few minutes, and the phial was floating in the air just before Harry's face. A cork had been halfway in the top. "You drink it whenever the next storm is."
"I know what to do." Harry said, sounding a bit more rude than he meant to. The fire suddenly wasn't as warm as it was, and he wasn't the biggest fan of freezing-- it felt like he'd get frostbite after just a few minutes, and that had happened enough times for him to know it felt much worse than it seemed. "Er-- thanks. I think it looked easy, but you're a lot better at potions than me. I think you just made it look easy."
Draco went very pink in the face and nodded.
"You're done?" Lisa asked, peering over Harry's shoulder. "Okay, great! Harry-- I know you know, but I've already done it ahead of time-- I set an alarm, and I found this super cool spell- well, Padma showed it to me- um, besides the point. I set an alarm that only you can hear-- it's gonna go off every sunrise and set. Um, sunset. You gotta do the spell- Animato, or, er, Amato, something. I don't remember, but you probably know."
And the next thing Harry knew-- he'd zoned out at some point, and he didn't know when; all he remembered was Lisa talking a lot-- he was stuffing the phial into a small box he'd found sometime back. It was close enough to impossible for any light to reach anything there-- and he was suddenly very grateful for Professor Flitwick, as he locked it magically.
Lockhart's horrible idea of a morale-booster became clear at breakfast time on February fourteenth.
Harry had been dead tired that morning-- he'd been woken up by Lisa's alarm after breakfast had started and went back to sleep immediately after reciting the spell. And then, at the moment, he hadn't even realised breakfast had already started, and he was so tired it didn't even occur to him that perhaps he shouldn't have gone back to sleep; he'd ended up sleeping almost another hour and had barely ten minutes to get down to the Great Hall if he'd wanted to eat anything before lunch. And once he'd opened the doors, he didn't believe what he'd seen; He thought, for a moment, that he'd walked through the wrong doors, or that Peeves had pulled a particularly nasty prank.
The walls were covered in large pink flowers, and heart-shaped confetti was falling from the roof, which was a pale blue colour. Harry took his regular seat at Ravenclaw table- Padma ears were pressed nearly flat to her head and she forced bits of confetti out her hair just about every three seconds. Lisa had been staring at her plate ever since he'd walked in, pushing around her food aimlessly. And Luna was very close to them, for the first time in a while, making a tiny pile of the confetti Padma was throwing around.
"Good morning, Harry," said Luna, and she beamed at him. It looked oddly strained. "I'm sorry for not talking with any of you. I suppose I just had to open my eyes a bit-- I talked with Draco some, said he's been around you all a lot. He also said that it really is a lot of Slytherins who, um, take the worst of being Pureblood and use it on everyone else. To make them feel bad. He says I ought to apologise for being rude, even if I was sort of right- or, atleast try and talk to you all-- he thinks none of us have got any logic, really." She was picking at the pile of confetti, and for the first time Harry could ever recall seeing, her ears had fallen.
"Well, it's not just Slytherins," said Padma quietly, staring at the roof and glaring at every piece of confetti that was near. "I mean, like I'd said. My parents tried to raise me like that. I bet if they were any closer to danger back during the war, they would've worked right under You-Know-Who immediately, and I'd be just a pompous as, say, Runcorn."
"That's nice," Harry said, "but what's the matter with Lisa?"
Before Luna or Padma could answer, Lisa sat up and pointed to the teachers' table, apparently too disgusted to speak. Lockhart, wearing lurid pink robes to match the decorations. And she'd pointed at just the right moment too, because he was waving for silence. The teachers on either side of him were looking stony-faced. From where he sat, Harry could see a muscle about to burst on Professor McGonagall's cheek. Snape looked as though someone had just fed him a large beaker of Skele-Gro.
"Happy Valentine's Day!" Lockhart shouted. "And may I thank the forty-six people who have so far sent me cards! Yes, I have taken the liberty of arranging this little surprise for you all-- and it doesn't end here!"
Lockhart clapped his hands and through the doors to the entrance hall marched a dozen surly-looking dwarves. Not just any dwarfs, however. Lockhart had them all wearing golden wings and carrying harps. Lisa had gone even paler and dropped her head back to the table.
"My friendly, card-carrying cupids!" beamed Lockhart. "They will be roving around the school today delivering your valentines! And the fun doesn't stop here! I'm sure my colleagues will want to enter into the spirit of the occasion! Why not ask Professor Snape to show you how to whip up a Love Potion! And while you're at it, Professor Flitwick knows more about Entrancing Enchantments than any wizard I've ever met, the sly old dog!"
Professor Flitwick buried his face in his hands, while Snape was looking as though the first person to ask him for a Love Potion would be force-fed poison.
"Please, Padma, tell me you weren't one of the forty-six," said Lisa despairingly as they all left the Great Hall for their first lesson. Padma suddenly became very interested in getting the remaining bits of confetti out her hair instead of answering.
"I think if he was as great as he thinks he is," started Luna. "he'd have found all the wonderful things people don't think exist, like Blibbering Humdingers, and Crumple-Horned Snorkacks, and--"
"It's a terrible shame he hasn't," said Lisa abruptly. "I think it makes him even more a fraud, you know? If he was really the great wizard he thinks he is, he'd have found them."
Padma looked between the two of them, gaping and looking incredibly harassed.
All day long, the dwarfs kept barging into their classes to deliver valentines, to the annoyance of the teachers and embarrassment of students, and late that afternoon as the Ravenclaw were walking downstairs for Charms, one of the dwarfs caught up with Harry, much to his horror.
"Oy! 'Arley Potter!" It said, knocking into people in it's way. Harry didn't take a single second to break into a dash, leaving the girls behind, all three of them looking stunned. But he didn't want to be given a Valentines infront of a crowd of first years, let alone a crowd in general. Despite his head start, the dwarf had knocked down people by their knees, and had been standing before him before he got to run out of the corridor.
"I've got multiple messages to deliver to 'Arley Potter in person, includin' a musical message," It said, twanging its harp in a threatening way.
"No, no, I'm not Harley, you've got the wrong person--" Harry tried to walk away, his ears burning-- people were staring, and they certainly weren't making him feel any better-- but the dwarf grabbed his bag, stopping him from leaving. However, with a tug back from Harry, the strap snapped in half and the fabric of the main bag ripped right down the middle-- his wand, along with all his books, quills, and parchment fell on the floor, and his ink bottle broke into pieces, colouring the floor and everything else that fell with it in a coat of wet black ink. He scrambled to pick things up, more embarrassed, if even possible, before the dwarf could start to sing.
"What's going on here?" said Draco, having arrived who knows when, as Padma and Lisa shoved their way through the crowd. Then two prefects arrived; Penelope Clearwater and Percy Weasley. Both of whom Harry knew personally, and he felt even worse-- the last thing he needed was for this to be seen by people he interacted with regularly. He tried to shove his books into his bag quicker, but they kept falling out the tear.
"Right," The dwarf said, unbothered.
"No, no, no--"
"Here is your singing valentine;
"His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad,
as brown as 'uneydukes chocolate,
He's got genius, he's down a brilliant road;
I wish he was mine, he's really divine,
The hero who conquered the Dark Lord.
Right. Here's the rest of ya' letters." The dwarf sang, before dropping a handful more of letters on Harry's bag.
Harry was more embarrassed than ever before. His face was hotter than he knew it could even get, and he could feel the tips of his ears pressing against the sides of his face-- he felt like cursing the stupid dwarf for not just giving him the letter, or Lockhart for doing any of this, or himself for not being able to do anything at all. Now his books and wand were dripping with ink, his dignity destroyed, his ink bottle smashed, and he'd wanted to curse a dwarf. Great.
A loud chatter erupted, mainly laughter, and he tried his best to ignore it. Somehow, louder than the crowd, was the laughter of the voices, ringing in his head. Of course-- just when he finally, really thought he'd been rid of them for good, they'd been given the perfect reason to return at full force. Before he had even realised it, he'd shouted--
"Shut up!"
When he heard that the corridor was entirely quiet, he was suddenly aware that it was him who'd shouted. It was so silent that you could hear the door creak without effort, and shoes shuffling as Percy and Penelope wordlessly guided students out the corridor.
A hand touched Harry's shoulder, and he turned to look at who it was. Luna was standing over him and smiling.
"Well," she said, her smile not faltering in the slightest until she began looking at the remaining crowd and she began frowning. "now no one's laughing. It's so rude-- they'd hate it if it happened to them, and then it wouldn't be very funny."
It made him feel a bit better. He didn't know how she did it, but she somehow had a talent for making him feel better. And he felt even better when he moved forward to pick up his things-- they were already being taken care of. Draco had picked up a few of the books, Padma had mended his ink bottle, and Lisa was looking around for the cork.
"You should really get rid of that diary," said Draco, as Harry mended the cut in his bag and began shovelling all his things back inside. "It's not doing you any good and you haven't written a thing."
"It's fine," Harry swore, wiping his eyes. "I'm not keeping it to have it. It's, er, a bit of history, you know?"
"You hate History of Magic."
"I hate the class-- I think magical history is very interesting."
Draco scoffed and walked ahead, pink in the face, and Luna skipped until she'd caught up to him and walked alongside him to their next class.
Harry planned on going to bed early that night-- he'd skipped out on dinner. Save himself the embarrassment and whatever else might come along with going, with what the Great Hall looked like that morning. He was too bored to read any of the other valentines he got; He'd read them tomorrow. He had nothing to do, really. It was the perfect chance for him to go to sleep anyway. He went to close his bed curtain before he noticed that Sly had gotten out her case, again, and had been biting and clawing at Riddle's diary.
"Sly!" Harry tried snapping his fingers. "Sly, stop!"
It wasn't working, for whatever reason. It usually did-- It'd make her think he had a Galleon, and then he'd stop her from getting away to actually go find one-- or something to distract her. But he'd done that trick too many times, now, because she'd glanced at him only once before returning to the diary. He'd never seen her act this way before.
"Hey Sly, galleon!" Harry said, pointing over at the door. Sly jumped up quickly and sprinted out the door at once. Well, atleast it worked, he supposed. And as for whatever she got her hands on-- that was tomorrow's problem. He picked up the diary and nearly tossed it-- he would've put it on the nightstand, if not, but something stopped him.
Today was a bad day.... And it was a completely blank diary. He'd just rip out the page he wrote on later-- he wouldn't like to risk breaking anything, and he shouldn't mess with bugs anymore. He was above that, now, because they'd finally learned to stay away from his things most of the time, and Lisa had been absolutely horrified when she saw him do it to a bug once and made Padma give him a very long lecture on how unsanitary and barbaric it was-- or something.
He went and took his special self-inking quill out his trunk, and thought for a moment before he decided what to write. A single drop of ink fell on the sheet, but when he looked back, it was gone. Suspicious, Harry wrote over where the blot would've been: Harley. It vanished just like the ink blot.
"Hello Harley. My name is Tom Riddle. How did you come by my diary?" Faded in, and faded away shortly after.
Hesitantly, Harry wrote.
"Someone tried to flush it down a toilet."
"Lucky that I recorded my memories in something much more lasting than ink. But I always knew that there would be those who would not want this diary to be read."
"What do you mean? What's been written that's so bad?" Harry scrawled, curious.
"I mean that this diary holds memories of terrible things. Things that were covered up. Things that happened at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."
"That's where I am right now." Harry wrote. "I'm at Hogwarts. All types of horrible stuff's been happening. Do you know anything about the Chamber of Secrets? I'd love to know more."
Riddle's reply came quickly, his writing becoming untidier, as though he was hurrying to tell all he knew. Harry smiled unconsciously-- guess some things did work better than history books.
"Of course I know about the Chamber of Secrets. In my day, they told us it was a legend, that it did not exist. But this was a lie. In my fifth year, the Chamber was opened and the monster attacked several students, finally killing one. I'd caught the person who's opened the Chamber and he was expelled. But the headmaster, Professor Dippet, ashamed that such a thing happened at Hogwarts, forbade me to tell the truth. A story was given out that the girl had died in a freak accident. They gave me a nice, shiny, engraved trophy for my trouble and warned me to keep my mouth shut. But I knew it could happen again. The monster lived on and the one who had the power to release it was not imprisoned."
Harry suddenly got a brilliant idea. It'd be daring, but he knew pity worked very well for him... people hardly ever doubted him when he looked like he deserved pity-- and while book-Riddle-thing, whatever he was, couldn't see him, maybe if he worded it just right...
"Well, it's been happening again. Three attacks and nobody knows who's been doing them. Everybody thinks it's me, and I don't get why. I haven't done anything." Harry wrote, "Can you tell me who it was? I would love to be able to finally set the record straight." After a moment, before the ink faded, he added, "And no one will tell us anything about the chamber otherwise."
"It's a very terrible tale, what my professors told us... maybe it's better you don't know. But I can show you who it was in my time, if you'd like," came Riddle's reply. "You don't have to take my word for it. I can take you inside my memory of the night when I caught him."
Harry hesitated, his quill suspended in the air over the diary. What did Riddle mean? How could he be taken inside somebody else's memory, let alone through a book? He glanced nervously at the door to the dormitory, which was wide open. When he looked back at the diary, he saw fresh words forming.
"Let me show you."
Harry paused for a second, questioning himself, closed the bed curtain, and then wrote his response.
"Okay."
The pages of the diary began to blow as though caught in a high wind, stopping halfway through the month of June. Mouth hanging open, Harry saw that the little square for June thirteenth seemed to have turned into a miniscule television screen. He leaned closer to get a better look- atleast one that was visible- but before he knew what was happening, he was tilting forward and couldn't sit upright; The window was widening. He felt his body float up and leave his bed, and he was pitched headfirst through the opening in the page, into a whirl of colour and shadow.
He felt his feet hit solid ground, and stood, shaking, as the blurred shapes around him came suddenly into focus.
He knew immediately where he was. This circular room with the sleeping portraits was unmistakably Dumbledore's office-- but it wasn't Dumbledore who was sitting behind the desk. A wizened, frail-looking wizard, bald except for a dew wisps of white hair, was reading a letter by candlelight. Harry had never seen this man before.
"Sorry," he said shakily, throwing his hands up.
But the wizard didn't look up. He continued to read, frowning slightly.
"Right, this is a memory. You can't see me." Harry realised. He resisted the urge to see if he could take anything that looked fascinating enough, and turned to leave without another word. It wasn't as if anyone could hear him anyway.
He had to admit, he almost appreciated the lack of attention being paid to him. He missed being able to be actually quiet sometimes. Just as he reached for the doorknob, someone knocked on the door. "Enter," said the frail wizard.
A boy around his fifth year entered-- clearly fifth, at the least, judging by the Prefect badge pinned to his robes-- and walked right past Harry.
"Ah, Riddle," said the headmaster.
"You wanted to see me, Professor Dippet?" said Riddle. He looked nervous.
"Sit down." said Dippet. "I've just been reading the letter you sent me."
"Oh, yes," said Riddle. He sat down, gripping his hands together very tightly.
"My dear boy," said Dippet kindly. "I cannot possibly let you stay at school over the summer. Surely you want to go home for the holidays?"
"No," said Riddle at once. "I'd much rather stay at Hogwarts than go back to that-- to that-" Harry felt a twinge hit his chest as Riddle finally found the words. "That cursed hellhole." He said quietly.
"You live in a Muggle orphanage during the holidays, I believe?" said Dippet curiously.
"Yes, sir," said Riddle, reddening slightly.
"You are Muggle-born?"
"Half-blood, sir," said Riddle. "Muggle father, witch mother." That caught Harry's attention. Half-blood. He was a half-blood too.
"And are both your parents--?"
"My mother died just after I was born, sir. They told me at the orphanage she lived just long enough to name me-- Tom, after my father, Marvolo, after my grandfather."
Dippet clucked his tongue sympathetically.
"The thing is, Tom," he sighed, "special arrangements might have been made for you, but in the current circumstances..."
"You mean all these attacks, sir?" said Riddle, and Harry's heart leapt. He moved closer cautiously.
"Precisely," said the headmaster. "My dear boy, you must see how foolish it would be of me to allow you to remain at the castle when term ends. Particularly in light of the recent tragedy... the death of that poor little girl.... You will be safer by far at your orphanage. As a matter !of fact, the Ministry of Magic is even now talking about closing the school. We are no nearer locating the, er-- source of all this unpleasantness..."
Riddle's eyes had widened.
"Sir-- if the person was caught-- if- if it all stopped--"
"What do you mean?" said Dippet with a squeak in his voice, sitting up in his chair. "Riddle, do you mean you know something about these attacks?"
"No, sir," said Riddle quickly.
Dippet sank back, looking faintly disappointed.
"You may go, Tom..."
Riddle slid off his chair and slouched out of the room. Harry quickly followed him.
Down the moving spiral staircase they went, emerging next to the gargoyle in the darkening corridor. Riddle stopped, and so did Harry, watching him. Harry could tell that Riddle was doing some serious thinking. He was biting his lip, his forehead furrowed. His ears, to Harry's surprise, were quite short but just as pointy as any pureblood he'd met, and twitching madly.
Then, as though he had suddenly reached a decision, he hurried off, Harry gliding noiselessly behind him. They didn't see another person until they reached the entrance hall, when a tall wizard with long, sweeping auburn hair and a beard called to Riddle from the marble staircase.
"What are you doing, wandering around this late, Tom?"
Harry stared stupidly at the wizard. He was none other than a much younger version of Dumbledore.
"I had to see the headmaster, sir," said Riddle.
"Well, hurry off to bed," said Dumbledore, giving Riddle exactly the kind of penetrating stare Harry knew so well. "Best not to roam the corridors these days. Not since..."
He sighed heavily, bade Riddle good night, and strode off. Riddle watched him walk out of sight and then, moving quickly, headed straight down the stone steps to the dungeons, with Harry following closely.
Riddle led him not into a hidden passageway or a secret tunnel, but to the very dungeon in which Harry had Potions with Snape. The torches hadn't been lit, and when Riddle pushed the door slightly closed, leaving a small crack, Harry could just barely see him, standing stock-still by the door, watching the passage outside. He sat down, resting on the wall and wishing the ground weren't so cold. He wished he could light a fire, or atleast a warming charm, but he didn't have his wand on him.
It felt to Harry that they were there for at least an hour. All he could see was the figure of Riddle at the door, staring through the crack, waiting like a statue. And just when Harry had stopped feeling expectant and tense and started wishing he could return to the present, he heard something move beyond the door.
Someone was creeping along the passage. He heard whoever it was pass the dungeon where he and Riddle were hidden. Riddle, quiet as a shadow, edged through the door and followed, Harry following behind him. He barely remembered that he couldn't be heard, tiptoeing along and trying to be as silent as he could.
For perhaps five minutes they followed the footsteps, until Riddle stopped suddenly, his head inclined in the direction of new noises. Harry heard a door creak open, and then someone speaking in a hoarse whisper.
"C'mon... gotta get yeh outta here.... C'mon now... in the box..."
There was something familiar about that voice...
Riddle suddenly jumped around the corner. Harry stepped out behind him. He could see the dark outline of a huge boy who was crouching in front of an open door, a very large box next to it.
"'Evening, Rubeus," said Riddle sharply.
The boy slammed the door shut and stood up.
"Oh! Er. What yer doin' down here, Tom?"
Riddle stepped closer.
"It's all over," he said lowly. "I'm going to have to turn you in, Rubeus. They're talking about closing Hogwarts if the attacks don't stop."
"What d'yeh--"
"I don't think you meant to kill anyone. But monsters don't make good pets. I suppose you just let it out for exercise and--"
"Never killed no one!" said the large boy, backing against the closed door. From behind him, Harry could hear a funny rustling and clicking. "'e's alrigh'!"
"Come on, Rubeus," said Riddle, moving yet closer. "The dead girl's parents will be here tomorrow. The least Hogwarts can do is make sure that the thing that killed their daughter is slaughtered...."
"It wasn't him!" roared the boy, his voice echoing in the dark passage. "He wouldn'! He never!"
"Stand aside," said Riddle, drawing out his wand.
His spell lit the corridor with a sudden flaming light. The door behind the large boy flew open with such force it knocked Riddle into the wall opposite. And out of it came something that made Harry press himself against the opposite wall and let out a piercing scream heard by no one--
A vast, low-slung, hairy body and a tangle of black legs; A gleam of many eyes and a pair of razor sharp pincers– Riddle raised his wand again, but he was too late. The thing bowled him over as it scuttled away, tearing up the corridor and out of sight. Riddle scrambled to his feet, looking after it he raised his wand, but the huge boy leapt on him, seized his wand, and threw him back down, yelling, "NOOOOOOO!"
The scene whirled, the darkness became complete; Harry felt himself falling and, with a crash, he landed spread-eagled on the ground in the Ravenclaw dormitory, Riddle's diary lying open beside him.
His stomach churned, and he forced himself to stand up and sit on his bed. He took sharp breaths, staring at the diary. Riddle knew much more than he'd have imagined.
And now, he knew more than he wanted.
Hagrid was the one who opened the Chamber fifty years ago.