The Very Secret Diary
They were trying their best, but they were as close to discovering the secret of the Chamber of Secrets as the muggles were to creating 5G. They could do it, but not right now and it was frustrating.
Still, interrogating Malfoy had given them at least a few clues.
The chamber had been opened fifty years ago and a muggle-born had died.
"Maybe we could ask Hagrid? He's sixty three, isn't he, so it must have happened when he was at Hogwarts", Hermione wondered out loud.
"Hey, he'd have been in third year at that point, wouldn't he? The year he'd been expelled", Ron frowned.
"Wait, are you insinuating that Hagrid had been expelled because of something regarding the chamber? Delph, this is Hagrid you're talking about.
Even if he was expelled for this reason, it was probably a misunderstanding", Aelurus laughed. "A misunderstanding, or maybe, someone framed him!", Sciurus exclaimed.
"And who else would, other than the heir! I can't really imagine someone having a grudge against Hagrid", Delphinus said.
"But we can't just ask Hagrid who framed him. From what I've seen, people tend to be touchy about these things", Sciurus mused.
"But who else can we ask", Delphinus sighed.
"DUMBLEDORE! We can ask Professor Dumbledore", Aelurus exclaimed.
"We could, if we, you know, knew where his office is!", Hermione rolled her eyes.
"Don't worry, I know where it is. I followed Dumbledore once under the cloak during one of my nighttime excursions."
"Mate, why would you follow Dumbledore", Ron asked, but of course, he didn't get a response.
Harry shot up from his bed, and made a gesture for Ron and Hermione to follow.
They exchanged looks, but followed their unofficial leader. They were led through many passageways, twists and turns, before they were in front of stone gargoyles.
"Can we see the headmaster", Harry asked.
"Password first", the gargoyle said gruffly.
"Er, raspberry jam", Hermione said weakly, earning looks from Harry and Ron.
"What, he always puts a lot of raspberry jam ono his toast", she huffed.
"Did you two get some sudden urge of stalkerishness and decided to take it out on Dumbledore."
Ron's comment was ignored yet again.
"Sherbet Lemon", she guessed yet again, and was surprised when the gargoyle sprang aside.
They stepped on the circular stairs and much to their astonishment, they began moving. The stairs carried them up till they came to a halt.
Tentatively, Harry knocked on the door. They heard a voice that was clearly Dumbledore's, state, "come in."
"Ah, Mr Potter, Mr Weasley, Ms Granger, what a pleasant surprise", though he didn't look all that fazed.
"Er, good morning Professor. Sorry to disturb you, but we had a few questions we were hoping you could answer", Harry began, with a hint of charm, a careful cautiousness and just the right amount of hunger for knowledge.
"But if you are busy right now, we can always come later. It's not an issue", Ron said, making sure there was just the right amount of hesitation on his face.
"Not at all! I'm never too busy to help out my students", Dumbledore said genially.
"Thank you so much Professor", Hermione smiled.
They looked around. From all the offices of the teachers they had ever been to, this was by far the most unique.
The office was filled with intricate instruments, portraits of what they assumed were former headmasters and headmistresses all over the wall.
On the bird perch, there was a bird, a grand plumage of red and gold, absolutely breathtaking.
"Is that a phoenix", Harry asked, awe filled in his eyes.
"Why yes Mr Potter, he truly is. Mr Potter, Ms Granger, Mr Weasley, meet Fawkes."
They exchanged looks. Crystalline would have love to see a phoenix.
"Well professor, we found out that these petrifications are supposedly the result of the Chamber of Secrets opening", they watched as Dumbledore's posture stiffened slightly.
"And we also discovered that the Chamber was opened before, fifty years ago, and that a muggle-born died as a result. Could you please tell us who it was", Hermione carried on.
"My my, you three could have easily gone to Ravenclaw, couldn't you?
I'm afraid, due to confidentiality reasons, I cannot tell you the identity of the poor girl who died in the bathroom directly", Dumbledore
"Thank you so much Professor", Hermione, for once, genuinely smiled, and the three headed out of the office.
"You're very welcome Ms Granger. Help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it."
***
"The girl who died in the bathroom. I know this is supposed to help us, at least Professor Dumbledore seemed to think so.
But the girl is dead, her family are muggles, and I doubt any friends would know too much about it", Hermione growled frustratedly.
"Hermione, wait, there's a way we can talk to the girl herself.
What if she came back as a ghost", Harry excitedly whispered.
"And what if she hasn’t left the bathroom since", Ron added.
"Moaning Myrtle", the three whispered breathlessly.
***
And with that new revelation, the three found themselves once again in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.
And once again they found Myrtle crying over something.
"Erm hello Myrtle", Ron began.
"Oh, it's you three again. What do you want from me?", she said irately, sobs escaping her translucent lips.
"Oh, we just wanted to see how you were doing", Hermione replied easily.
"Ha! As if. You're probably here to throw another book at me", Myrtle cried.
"Why would we want to throw a book at you", Harry asked, confused.
"Here", Myrtle pointed at a shabby notebook.
"I was just thinking about death, minding my own business, when suddenly, someone just throws a book at me", she wailed.
"It's not like it would hurt you. Wouldn't it just pass through you", Ron said, dismissively.
"Sure, so let's all just throw things at Myrtle, just because she can't feel it.
Twenty points if you can pass it though Myrtle's chest. Thirty if you can get it through her stomach", she bawled as she floated away.
"Ronald! That was extremely rude of you. Besides, we still needed her to talk", Hermione chastised.
"Fifty points if you can get it though Myrtle's head", Ron muttered sarcastically.
Harry, on the other hand, was ignoring his friends, looking intently at the book.
He bent down, and taking off his cloak, gently wrapped the book in it.
Once he was sure that the book wouldn't harm him, he swiftly placed it in his pocket.
"Come on, let's get out of here. We don't have a reason to loiter around in a girl's bathroom after all", he told the other two.
***
A week had gone by since the encounter with Myrtle, but for some reason, the book had been constantly on Harry's mind.
The three of them had tried everything they could think of, but the book, which seemed to be a diary, didn't seem anything special.
Still, Harry couldn't shake the feeling that there was something off about it.
So one night, he flipped open the empty pages and wrote.
'Hi', the ink sank in the parchment, disappearing as though it weren't even there.
And then, writing appeared on the parchment, in handwriting definitely not his own.
'Hello'.
'I am Harry', he rote yet again, anticipating the ink sinking in, and it did.
'Hello Harry. I am Tom, Tom Riddle.'
'Nice to meet you, or rather, write to you Tom.'
'Thank you Harry. But, if I may ask, what is your full name.'
'Potter, Harry Potter'
'Harry Potter. I've heard a lot about you. Boy-who-lived, survived an attack from the Dark Lord, and I must say, your mysterious past has intrigued me.'
'Tom, I saw the diary and it's supposed to be fifty years old. The same year the fabled Chamber of Secrets was opened the last time.
And, to get straight to the point, I was hoping you could tell me about it.'
'Ah, not one for idle chat, I see.
'Well, usually I am, but one of my best friends, practically my sister was one of the victims. I really want her to be alright. My other friends are equally as invested'
'Oh. That is quite noble. A Gryffindor, I presume.'
'No. I am actually a Slytherin.'
'That's surprising to say the least. Who are these friends of yours, Harry?'
'I apologise for any rudeness, but I'm no fool. My name and my house are the only personal information I'm comfortable sharing with you.'
'Spoken like a true snake. Returning to your request, yes, there is something I know about the Chamber of Secrets.'
'Could you tell me.'
'Why tell when I could show you.'
The pages began flipping on their own, and Harry felt as though he was being sucked into a vaccum cleaner as the world grew black before his eyes.
Mouth hanging open, Harry saw that the little square for June thirteenth seemed to have turned into a miniscule television screen.
His hands trembling slightly, he raised the book to press his eye against the little window, and before he knew what was happening, he was tilting forward; the window was widening, he felt his body leave his bed, and he was pitched headfirst through the opening in the page, into a whirl of color 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 Dumbledore's office - but it wasn't Dumbledore who was sitting behind the desk.
A wizened, frail-looking wizard, bald except for a few wisps of white hair, was reading a letter by candlelight. Harry had never seen this man before.
The wizard folded up the letter with a sigh, stood up, walked past Harry without glancing at him, and went to draw the curtains at his window.
The sky outside the window was ruby-red; it seemed to be sunset. The wizard went back to the desk, sat down, and twiddled his thumbs, watching the door.
Harry looked around the office. No Fawkes the phoenix - no whirring silver contraptions. This was Hogwarts as Riddle had known it, meaning that this unknown wizard was Headmaster, not Dumbledore, and he, Harry, was little more than a phantom, completely invisible to the people of fifty years ago.
There was a knock on the office door.
"Enter," said the old wizard in a feeble voice.
A boy of about sixteen entered, taking off his pointed hat. A silver prefect's badge was glinting on his chest. He was much taller than Harry, but he, too, had jet-black hair.
"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," said Riddle. He sat down, gripping his hands together very tightly.
"My dear boy," said Dipper 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--"
"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."
"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."
Dipper 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, and he moved closer, scared of missing anything.
"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 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, though Harry had an inkling that Riddle wasn't being truthful.
Dippet sank back, looking faintly disappointed.
"You may go, Tom..."
Riddle slid off his chair and slouched out of the room. Harry 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.
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 gaped at the wizard. He was none other than a fifty-year-younger 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 in hot pursuit.
But to Harry's disappointment, 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 almost closed, Harry could only just see him, standing stock-still by the door, watching the passage outside.
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 tiptoeing behind him, forgetting that he couldn't be heard.
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.
"What yer doin'down here, Tom?"
Riddle stepped closer.
"It's all over," he said. "I'm going to have to turn you in, Rubeus. They're talking about closing Hogwarts if the attacks don't stop."
"N at 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--"
"It never killed no one!" said the large boy, backing against the closed door. From behind him, Harry could hear a funny rustling and clicking.
"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 him into the wall opposite.
And out of it came something that made Harry let out a long, piercing scream unheard by anyone.
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,
"NOOOOOO!"
The scene whirled, the darkness became complete; Harry felt himself falling and, with a crash, he landed spread-eagled on his green bed, Riddle's diary on his lap.
Harry shut the diary harshly as he came to a conclusion.
Whoever this Tom Riddle was had a hand in this whole thing with the Chamber, and was probably even the heir.
Yes they were leaps and assumptions, but what he did know was that Tom Riddle was not to be trusted.
***
There had thankfully, been no other attacks since Justin Finch-Fletchley and Nearly Headless Nick.
People had finally begun relaxing, and the terror in the atmosphere seemed to fade away, at least a bit.
Gilderoy Lockhart seemed to think he himself had made the attacks stop.
Harry overheard him telling Professor McGonagall so while the Gryffindors were lining up for Transfiguration.
"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 any more just now, but I think I know just the thing..."
He tapped his nose again and strode off.
Lockhart's idea of a morale-booster became clear at breakfast time on February fourteenth.
Harry had spent a good part of the morning wondering about the diary, and as a result, was slightly late to breakfast.
He thought, for a moment, that he'd walked through the wrong doors.
The walls were all covered with large, lurid pink flowers.
Worse still, heart-shaped confetti was falling from the pale blue ceiling.
Harry went over to the Slytherin table, where Ron was sitting looking sickened, and Hermione was eyeing the decorations disgustedly.
"What's going on?" Harry asked them, sitting down and wiping confetti off his bacon.
Ron pointed to the teachers' table, apparently too disgusted to speak.
Lockhart, wearing lurid pink robes to match the decorations, was waving for silence.
The teachers on either side of him were looking stony-faced.
From where he sat, Harry could see a muscle going in 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 dwarfs.
Not just any dwarfs, however. Lockhart had them all wearing golden wings and carrying harps.
"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. Snape was looking as though the first person to ask him for a Love Potion would be force-fed poison.
Th only positive thing Harry could think of
was that Lockhart had received a cursed car, courtesy of Hermione.
All day long, the dwarfs kept barging into their classes to deliver valentines, to the annoyance of the teachers, and late that afternoon as the Slytherins were walking upstairs for Transfiguration, one of the dwarfs caught up with Harry.
"Oy, you! Arry Potter!" shouted a particularly grim-looking dwarf, elbowing people out of the way to get to Harry.
Hot all over at the thought of being given a valentine in front of a line of first years, which happened to include Ginny Weasley, Harry tried to escape.
The dwarf, however, cut his way through the crowd by kicking people's shins, and reached him before he'd gone two paces.
"I've got a musical message to deliver to Arry Potter in person," he said, twanging his harp in a threatening sort of way.
"Not here," Harry hissed, trying to escape.
"Stay still!" grunted the dwarf, grabbing hold of Harry's bag and pulling him back.
"Let me go!" Harry snarled, tugging.
With a loud ripping noise, his bag split in two. His books, wand, parchment, and quill spilled onto the floor and his ink bottle smashed over everything.
Harry scrambled around, trying to pick it all up before the dwarf started singing, causing something of a holdup in the corridor.
"What's going on here?" came the cold, drawling voice of Draco Malfoy.
Harry started stuffing everything feverishly into his ripped bag, desperate to get away before Malfoy could hear his musical valentine.
"What's all this commotion?" said another familiar voice as Percy Weasley arrived.
Losing his head, Harry tried to make a run for it, but the dwarf seized him around the knees and brought him crashing to the floor.
"Right," he said, sitting on Harry's ankles. "Here is your singing valentine:
His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad,
His hair is as dark as a blackboard,
I wish he was mine,
he's really divine,
The hero who conquered the Dark Lord
Harry would have given all the gold in Gringotts to evaporate on the spot.
Trying valiantly to laugh along with everyone else, (including Ron and Hermione, traitors) he got up, his feet numb from the weight of the dwarf, as Percy Weasley did his best to disperse the crowd, some of whom were crying with mirth.
"Off you go, off you go, the bell rang five minutes ago, off to class, now," he said, shooing some of the younger students away. "And you, Malfoy--"
Harry, glancing over, saw Malfoy stoop and snatch up something.
Leering, he showed it to Crabbe and Goyle, and Harry realised that he'd got Riddle's diary.
"Give that back," said Harry quietly.
"Wonder what Potter's written in this?" said Malfoy, who obviously hadn't noticed the year on the cover and thought he had Harry's own diary.
A hush fell over the onlookers. Ginny was staring from the diary to Harry, looking terrified.
"Hand it over, Malfoy," said Percy sternly.
"When I've had a look," said Malfoy, waving the diary tauntingly at Harry.
Percy said, "As a school prefect -" but Harry had lost his temper.
He pulled out his wand and shouted, "Expelliarmus!" Malfoy found the diary shooting out of his hand into the air. Ron, grinning broadly, caught it.
"Harry!" said Percy loudly. "No magic in the corridors. I'll have to report this, you know!"
But Harry didn't care, he detested Malfoy too much, who, as Ginny passed him to enter her classroom, yelled spitefully after her, "I don't think Potter liked your valentine much!"
"And I can't hex him why", Hermione asked.