Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling; various publishers including, but not limited to, Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books; and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

A/N: I believe there's only two more chapters after this one for this book, then I'll get started posting the next book. Just a quick reminder, I'm still writing Harry's fourth year at Hogwarts, and I won't start posting it until I'm done writing it.


Chapter Nine: Yule

The Christmas holidays were a whirlwind of chaotic confusion. On the third day home, Remus and Aurilia took Harry to see the wizarding section of Des Moines – in actuality, it wasn't really a part of Des Moines, proper, but a suburb sandwiched between Clive and West Des Moines – called the Hollow. It had its own mall, but the mall didn't have so much as a single Radio Shack or Sears. It actually reminded Harry of Diagon Alley, only without the threat of being rained on. He managed to finish up his Yule shopping, and the three of them had lunch at a little restaurant not far from the mall.

The fifth day home saw the first Brewer Yule Party – the one for all their muggle friends and acquaintances. Harry got the chance to meet the girl that Aurilia was training alongside A.J. in the arts of herbal medicine. Her name was Carly Munez and was about twenty-five or so, with long black hair and the coppery complexion of someone whose parents likely didn't speak English.

The day of Yule was spent opening presents and drinking hot chocolate. Harry also spent a lot of time playing with his almost-three-year-old brother and six-month-old sister. He got to see A.J. and the two of them traded spells for the better part of four hours that afternoon, before everyone sat down to a late lunch/early dinner.

The day after Yule brought the second Brewer Yule Party and all of Harry's friends – with most of their families in tow – showed. Even Hagrid got to make an appearance this time as his duties weren't as time-consuming during the winter months. The only one of Harry's invitations that had been returned was the one for Professor Snape, who had included a terse note about how parties really weren't his scene, 'if you would care to recall that horrid affair the summer before you started Hogwarts.' Harry merely laughed and sent a reply back with Dumbledore asking something highly technical about the uses of synthetic compounds in healing salves.

During the party, Sirius managed to corner Hagrid and, two days before Harry was due back at Hogwarts, Sirius disappeared through the floo, only to portkey back an hour later in the driveway. Harry watched as he pushed a large motorcycle up the drive, parking it to one side of the garage. Didn't he mention something about that thing being able to fly?

Harry's musings were answered that evening after dinner when Sirius took him for a ride on it. Harry had once thought that nothing was more fun than flying the Cessna in his piloting class, but had to reassess that thought when he flew his ultralight for the first time, and again during that first broomstick ride. He found himself having to do so yet again after the ride on the motorcycle with his godfather.

After the exhilaration of the flight, Harry had a hard time sleeping that night, so he slid down the ladder to his hide-a-room, thinking he might work a little more on the last of his holiday homework. He got distracted, however, when he was searching for a pen and came across the diary. He sat on the bed, flipping through the small book. I wonder how this thing was supposed to work? He carried it over to his desk and sat down. Well… Most diaries get stuff written in them, right? But this one's completely blank. The clock said it had a bunch of spells woven into it… Wasn't one of those 'absorbus?' Didn't I see that one in one of James' old textbooks? Harry got to his feet and pulled down a couple of his father's old charms textbooks. After a few minutes, he located the spell in the index of the fifth-year text. He looked the spell up and found that it was an ink-specific spell intended to prolong the use-life of parchment. It was also listed as one of the spells required when making messenger-parchments; apparently, when spelled properly, two pieces of parchment could be used like text-based walkie-talkies. Harry made a note to himself to get Hermione to look into making some for their group of friends – not only would it save on floo powder, but it would mean that no more weirdo house elves could waylay the mail.

Harry hesitantly opened the diary and chewed thoughtfully on the end of his pen for a moment. What should I say? I mean… I have absolutely no idea what will happen iffen I write in this damn thing… Come on Harry, think like a Slytherin… I s'pose… Harry sat the tip of his pen onto the first blank page.

December 24, 1992

I found this old diary in a friend's dad's old school stuff a while back. I wonder why no one ever used it before? The pages are all blank. My friends would probably tease me if they knew that I'm writing in something as girly as a diary.

My name is Jay Westlake and I'm twelve. I live on a horse-ranch in Iowa, but go to school in Scotland. My parents went there when they were my age and the school gave me the option to go there, too. I'm currently home for winter break.

Suddenly, the two short paragraphs that Harry had written disappeared, the ink sinking into the paper. Harry watched in rapt fascination as this happened, and moments later, much neater handwriting than his own showed up.

Hello, Jay. My name is Tom Riddle. This used to be my diary. Do you attend Hogwarts?

Now we're getting somewhere! Harry thought. He smiled a little and replied to Tom's question.

Yes. Did you go there, too?

Yes, I did. You said that you found me among a friend's father's old school things… May I ask whom?

Harry's little smile grew. My friend's name is Draco. His dad is Lucius Malfoy. Did you know him when you were in school?

The name is not familiar, at least not the first name. I knew Abraxas Malfoy – he was several years ahead of me in school. What can you tell me about Lucius?

Just a second, Tom, Harry wrote back. My mom is calling for me. I'll be right back.

I'll be waiting.

Aurilia wasn't calling for Harry, of course, but he needed a couple of minutes to look up the name of Abraxas Malfoy in his genealogy books. It didn't take long.

I'm back. Sorry about that. Lucius is Abraxas' son. Guess that means I'm friends with the grandson of the person you knew.

So it would seem.

Anyway, Lucius is pureblood. He married Narcissa Black. I don't really know a whole lot about Lucius, though. I know he bought new brooms for the Slytherin quidditch team this year. They're really good ones, too. Nimbus 2001.

I can't say that I am familiar with the brand, but I'll trust you. Do you play quidditch?

Yeah, I'm a seeker. You?

Though most of my acquaintances were obsessed with the sport, I couldn't come up with the required enthusiasm. I was more concerned with my education.

You sound like one of the Gryffindor girls. Her name's Hermione and if it isn't in a book, I don't think she'd be interested in it.

There is more to education than merely books.

I know. Do you mind if I ask you some questions?

That would depend on what they were.

Harry nodded, he hadn't assumed that Tom would do any less. He decided to start with some easy ones before moving on to the harder ones.

How old are you? And what are you? No offense, but are you some sort of ghost or something?

No, I am not a ghost. I am… a memory of who I was at sixteen years old.

Cool. How come?

Pardon?

Why did you preserve yourself in the diary?

So that I would always be at the school, even if I was really elsewhere, doing other things.

Why? Harry wrote, thinking, Iffen I didn't know that this guy was really Voldemort, I'd be tempted to believe anything he said. I think he's doing what I am, though, and giving me only the smallest part of the truth. Harry snickered at the mental image he suddenly had of two cartoon sharks in Slytherin colors, circling round and round a large pot with the words 'THE POINT' written on it.

When I was in school, many bad things happened. I felt it would be best that they not be forgotten.

What bad things?

There were attacks on the students. A girl died.

That's awful, but why did you think that you'd be of any use by staying? Were you a teacher? I thought you said you were only sixteen…

No, I was merely a student at the time.

What else can you tell me? If I'm going to school there, I ought to know what sorts of dangers there are. I mean, everyone knows about the squid in the lake, and the creatures in the forest, but I don't remember being told about a girl dying in the school before.

Then it appears as though my goal has been thwarted. Tell me, Jay, what do you know of Salazar Slytherin?

He's one of the founders of Hogwarts, Slytherin house is named for him. He was a formidable wizard and parselmouth. He had some political views that the other founders didn't agree with, namely that he thought that only pureblood wizards should be taught magic. He also built a hideaway deep within the castle, calling it his Chamber of Secrets, and had a pet basilisk who is supposedly still waiting within the chamber for Salazar's return.

You are surprisingly well-informed for only a second-year.

Harry laughed. He could tell that Tom didn't quite know what to think of him, which was what Harry had intended. He sat pen back to paper and replied, Mayhap so, Tom. I don't like not knowing something, so I make sure to research it. I'd always wondered about Slytherin, so I researched him. Why did you want to know?

Merely curious.

I don't believe that for a second, Harry thought, but wrote, That's okay. Hey, I need to go. I'll talk again soon, yeah?

I am looking forward to it.

Harry closed the diary and sat back, thinking. Obviously, this is more than just a diary… But, then again, I knew that already. Iffen this really is a younger version of Voldemort, then he probably still has the same goals as the real Voldemort. I can tell already that I'm going to need to be really careful when I talk with him. I'm glad I didn't tell him my real name… This is going to be hard enough without who I am getting in the way. Harry put the diary away and settled into his remaining homework, letting his mind work on the diary without interference. Harry managed to complete all the homework he had remaining before bedtime that night, which was a good thing, as Little Bird would be arriving the next day, and would be staying with the Brewers until about two weeks after Harry returned to Hogwarts.

The next day, Little Bird arrived shortly after breakfast. Knowing that Harry had to return to school the next day, she spent most of the day with him.

"How'd that dream-catcher work for you?" Little Bird asked while helping him finish up the breakfast dishes. True to her name, she was slight of stature, only three inches or so taller than Harry. She had the coppery skin of a Native American, and it was impossible to say with any certainty just what color her hair had been – it was now snowy white, though still as thick, straight, and long as it had been when she was young.

Harry shrugged, "I'm not sure… I only tried it once. The dream it gave me was… really weird."

"How so?" Little Bird asked.

Over the course of the next half-hour, Harry explained about the dream, and answered his grandma's questions. When he was done, they were sitting at the kitchen table, playing gin and drinking hot chocolate. "So… What do ya think?"

Little Bird drew a card, placed it in her hand, and discarded an eight of clubs before answering. "Well… With the information y'all told me, I should think it's clear."

"How?" Harry picked up the discarded eight of clubs and placed it with the eights of diamonds and hearts in his hand before discarding a three of spades.

"Well… You said that the bathroom which ya started out in was the same one y'all had used with the clock-thing, yeah?" Little Bird drew again and reshuffled her hand. She deliberated for a moment, taking a sip of her drink.

"Yeah."

"Seems to me that iffen y'all dreamt that, then the entrance to the hidden room would be in that bath. You prob'ly noticed somethin' when y'all were in there that'd make y'all think so. Not noticed it in your wakin' mind, but saw some small detail that your sleepin' mind picked up on." She finally discarded a two of hearts.

Harry snatched it up and sandwiched it between his ace and three of hearts, discarding a card he didn't need. "Gin."

Little Bird glared at him and tallied the points in her hand. "Brat."

"You love me anyway."

She nodded, then collected the cards to deal again. "Score's at ninety-three to me, and ninety-one to you. Close game."

"Yeah. Iffen the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets really is in that bathroom, though, how would I open it? I know that iffen I could get it open, all I'd need ta do would be take a rooster down with me."

"A rooster?"

"Yeah, its crowin' would kill the basilisk."

"What about a recordin'?" She finished dealing.

"Dunno… Mayhap so… Wouldn't hurt ta ask, yeah?" Harry drew a jack of diamonds and placed it with his nine and ten of the same suit. He already had a set of threes and another of fives. He discarded the odd ace of clubs facedown. "Gin."

Little Bird sighed and melodramatically hit her head on the table. "Fifty-plus points. You won this one. Ya know, I wish I'd never taught y'all how ta play."

Harry snickered. "Come on, Grandma, you know you'd rather play with me. Mom don't like cards, an' Dad an' Dave can only play poker."

While Harry gathered the cards to deal the first hand of a new game, Little Bird thought over what Harry had told her. "You said that this Salazar-guy could talk ta snakes, yeah?"

Harry nodded, "Yeah. Its called parseltongue – it's s'posed ta be really rare."

"Makes sense, then, the giant snake… Tell me, Harry, in magic, does a secret passageway hafta be hidden by somethin' mechanical?"

Harry finished dealing and picked up his cards, "Nope. The gargoyle that hides the staircase ta the headmaster's office is password-protected. So's the entrance ta Gryffindor tower."

"An' iffen this Salazar-guy could speak a language that no one else could –"

Harry grinned. "Then the entrance would be protected by a parseltongue password!" His face suddenly fell, "But… There's still the question of what it'd be."

Little Bird shrugged, "No idea, but remember the KISS method, hon."

"Keep It Simple, Stupid." Harry sighed and arranged his cards. "At least I've got somewhere ta start."

Little Bird nodded sagely, drew a card, placed it in her hand, and discarded a nine of clubs. "That's more than most folks get," she grinned. "Gin."


A/N2: Thanks again to all my readers, and especially to my beta, Aurilia.