A SEQUENCE OF ALTERNATIVE EVENTS
BOOK THE SECOND: THE CHAMBER WHOSE SECRETS SHALL NOT BE REVEALED

By MYRTLE THE TYRTLE

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A/N: Welcome, reader, to the second story in A SEQUENCE OF ALTERNATIVE EVENTS. This is set in the Harry Potter Universe, but twisted horribly out of proportion so that whatever my good friend JKR has written becomes totally and utterly dismal. WARNING: stories in THE SEQUENCE do not follow in order, this is set in HP2: CoS. Read, enjoy and review.

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CHAPTER ONE: NO WHOMPING WILLOWS

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"Let's go together, we've only got a minute," Ron said to Harry.

Harry made sure Hedwig's cage was safely wedged on top of his trunk and wheeled his trolley about to face the barrier. He felt perfectly confidant as he and Ron walked purposely towards the barrier, gathering speed. A few feet away from it, they broke into a run and –

CRASH!

Both trolleys hit the barrier and bounced backwards.

"What in blazes d'you think you're doing?" yelled a nearby guard.

"Lost control of the trolley," Harry gasped, clutching his ribs as he got up. Ron ran to get Hedwig, and Harry watched as the clock struck closer towards eleven o'clock.

Three… two… one…

"It's gone," said Ron, sounding stunned. "The train's left. What if Mum and Dad can't get back through to us? Have you got any Muggle Money?"

Harry gave a hollow laugh. "The Dursleys haven't given me pocket money for about six years"

"Mum and Dad mightn't be able to get back! What are we going to do?" Ron asked tensely.

"I think we'd better go wait by the car," said Harry, aware of everyone's reaction to Hedwig's continued screeches.

"The car!" exclaimed Ron, with a glint of hope and the manic glint in his eye that Harry had often noticed in Fred and George.

"What about it?"

"We can fly the car to Hogwarts!"

"But I thought…"

"We're stuck, right? And we've got to get to school, haven't we? Even under-age wizards can use magic in a real emergency, section nineteen or something of the Restriction of the Thingy…"

"Wouldn't it just be easier to send an owl to McGonagall?"

Ron sighed. "I suppose you're right."

They sent Hedwig off to find McGonagall, and she came back in about half an hour with an old boot.

There was also a note.

"DEAR MESSERS WEASLEY AND POTTER. THANK YOU FOR USING YOUR HEADS AND SENDING ME THIS OWL. IN RESPONSE TO YOUR QUERY, I HAVE CREATED A PORTKEY THAT WILL SEND YOU DIRECTLY TO THE HOGWARTS EXPRESS. I MUST COMMEND YOU ON YOUR USE OF A LOGICAL SOLUTION, NOT SOMETHING RECKLESS LIKE FLYING A CAR INTO A TREE. YOURS SINCERELY, MINERVA MCGONAGALL…"

It went on to list a whole lot of her titles.

"C'mon," said Ron. "Let's use the Portkey. All we need to do is to touch it and…"

In an instant, they were both lifted up into the air, but found they had landed moments later on the school train.

"Where have you been?" came a sharp voice. It was Hermione Granger, their best friend and the only reason either of them had passed their exams at the end of last year.

"The gateway was blocked," explained Harry. "McGonagall sent us a Portkey."

"Wow! A real Portkey? I've only read about them, of course, but…"

Her voice trailed on until they found a compartment containing no one else but Ginny, Ron's sister.

"Hi, Ginny," said Harry, and Ginny lurched back into the corner.

Ron suppressed a giggle.

"Let's have a look at your new books, Ginny," said Hermione, trying to take the younger girl's mind off a certain Boy-who-lived. "A beginner's guide to transfiguration… the first book I ever memorised… but what's this?"

Another small book had fallen out of the larger one.

Harry picked it up, and Ron reached his long neck over his shoulder to read the cover.

"It's a diary… the name says Tom Riddle."

Hermione gasped. "Harry, put it down!" she cried urgently.

Harry at once dropped the book.

"What's the matter, Hermy?"

Hermione frowned at the horrible nickname she absolutely hated. "Tom Riddle was the birth-name of You-Know-Who!"

"No, actually, Hermione, I don't know who. Why can't you use his name like everyone else?"

"But, Harry, everybody else calls him… oh…" began Ron. "That was irony, wasn't it?"

Harry nodded as Hermione used Wingardium Leviosa to levitate the diary into a clear plastic bag. "Maybe Dumbledore can check it out," she said. "The book's probably cursed with lots of ancient enchantments, like…"

She began to lecture them about everything that could have been on the book, only stopping when the train pulled up at Hogsmeade station.

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After the Sorting (where the hat had performed an impromptu rap about the Houses, a danger that may be faced and state of world hunger) and the traditional grand feast, which completely undermined what the Hat had just said, the trio (but not Ginny, as she was too shy of Harry to be anywhere near him) went to see Dumbledore about Voldemort's diary.

"What is it you wish to see me about, children?" asked Dumbledore. "Will it take long?"

"Um, it might, Professor," said Hermione. "We don't really know."

"Go on without me, Minerva," said Dumbledore. "Try and warm it up!"

This last comment got a disapproving stare from Hermione.

"Er… staff, um, meeting."

This seemed to satisfy her curiosity, and Dumbledore led them to his office, the password of which was "Story Reviews" (it seems that they are as much a sweet to him as me!).

"What is it that you three wish to see me about?"

Hermione began an explanation of the diary, where they found it and all the curses she thought that could be on it.

"I see… do you mind if I…" he took the book out of the bag.

"Ah! Very interesting! Mm… Ooh…"

"What is it, Professor?" asked Harry.

"Haven't the foggiest, my boy," grinned Dumbledore. "It appears to be a diary… I should get an expert to look at it though…"

The trio stood patiently as Dumbledore selected a blue cap out of a cabinet, placed it on his head and examined the book thoroughly.

"Excuse me for asking, Professor, but what does that hat do?" asked Hermione.

"Well, for one thing, Miss Granger," answered the headmaster, "is that it fuels my imagination and lets me pretend I'm someone else. Usually I use it at Christmas time to pretend I'm someone who wants big encyclopaedias. But today I'm pretending I'm Albus Dumbledore, the great expert on cursed books. And, furthermore, it lets you lot keep thinking I'm a crazy old coot who needs to be locked up!" He laughed, loudly.

"But what's this?" he questioned.

"Um, we believe it to be a diary belonging to Voldemort, Professor," said Harry. Indeed, he was thinking that his headmaster was a crazy old coot who needed to be locked up.

"I know that, boy!" snapped Dumbledore. "But the diary… I do believe it is a Horcrux!"

"A horcrux?"

Dumbledore knelt down to be on the same level with the trio.

"When you kill someone, you create a certain energy. If you harness this energy, you can split your soul and create a Horcrux. I believe that Voldemort created several of these, and if he were ever to be destroyed, we need to destroy the Horcuxes first!"

Harry looked puzzled, yet enlightened (a tricky feat). "That's why he didn't die, the night he…"

"Murdered your parents in cold blood and tried to take a stab at you as well, yes," Dumbledore finished bluntly.

Harry met the old man's eyes defiantly. "How do you destroy the Horcruxes? I must know!"

"Patience, Harry," Dumbledore waved a hand to silence him. "I will destroy this one, while you go and have a lovely year at school, free of all difficulties and struggles."

And that he did. The only other unnatural occurrence (for a boy who's parents had thrice defied Voldemort and given their lives in the process) was the visiting of a house-elf in the middle of the night, primarily to thank Harry Potter for saving the school.

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A/N: Should I continue? I can if you think the story is worth it.

Let me know.

MYRTLE