Hi guys! I'm not dead yet!

(But I'm almost dead...ugh...finals week and then SATs the day right after. Yeah, signing up for the January 26th date wasn't exactly the smartest idea.)

Updates will still be slow, but I will try my best. I just hope to goodness that I have the same teachers for the spring semester because there's a few really mean teachers who give out tons and tons of stupid work. There's always one of them in every darn school.


After discovering the diary, Artemis had much to look forward to when he returned home over the break. He could always ask his parents about his heritage later, but this…this was more important.

You'll need your past soon enough…but there's no time…

It was their first "real" Christmas together as a family, with his father back. They had all made their pledges to spend more time together as a family. Artemis was somewhat appreciative, but he couldn't fully enjoy the holiday when the mystery was perpetually nagging at him in the back of his mind.

Artemis decided to compromise – he spent the days celebrating with his parents, and solved the mysteries under his covers at night. Opening the diary, Artemis lay on his stomach on his bed and flipped through it. The pages were all blank – supposedly. But if it had been a truly blank diary, it wouldn't have been around for so long.

His mother and father would probably confiscate it if they found it in his possession – he had "promised" them that he wouldn't go looking for trouble. (Of course, he left several major loopholes so that he would not exactly be lying when he went to investigate the Chamber of Secrets).

"Specialis Revelio!" Nothing.

"Aparecium!" Not invisible ink, then, either.

There had to be some way to see all of the words that had been written in the diary so far. Ginny Weasley had been communicating with it somehow, that was for sure. Artemis had a tiny suspicion that in the end, nothing would work except for physically writing in it...but he wanted to see if he couldn't find another way first. Physically writing in it was a bit risky. Decoding the diary went on for many nights, with Artemis trying every single spell he could think of.

But it was all in vain, and Artemis knew that he didn't have much time left until he had to go back to Hogwarts. Finally, Artemis decided to steel his mind for all it was worth - and it was worth quite a bit, thank you - and feed the diary some ink. Dipping a quill in an ink pot (the diary, apparently, didn't accept pencil graphite too well - silly, backwards, medieval wizard traditions), carefully trying not to stain his bed sheets, Artemis wrote, "Hello."

The words disappeared, fading into the parchment as though it was a giant sponge, soaking up the words. New words appeared in their place. "Hello. My name is Tom Riddle. Who are you?"

As if he was going to use his own name like a complete fool. "My name is Harry Potter." It was the first name he could come up with, and taking too long to answer would probably be suspicious.

"Hello, Harry. How did you come across this diary?"

So the diary could communicate to those that wrote in it. There was always the slightest chance that this was merely a programmed answer and artificial intelligence - which would have been Artemis' first thought had he been living in the Muggle world - but as this was magic, probably not. In any other circumstance, Artemis would have called himself crazy, but for this, he would make an exception.

The most likely explanation was that the diary was a sentient being that could think for itself. How, Artemis did not know, but it probably wasn't a good reason - even in the Wizarding world, with its magically moving kitchen appliances and screaming books from the Restricted section of the library, nonliving things could not and did not think on their own - not without some sort of dark intervention.

Still, he would humor this Tom Riddle, and pretend he knew nothing. If the book had the same level of intelligence as an average human, it would not be able to see through his deception, his facade that he actually trusted this...this thing.

"Someone dropped it in the middle of a hallway."

"I see."

"Tom, what does the 'M' in your name stand for?" He already knew, of course.

"Marvolo. It was my grandfather's name."

Artemis made a mental note to look up a Marvolo more carefully - if Riddle was telling the truth about where he got his middle name from, then his lineage could be traced more effectively. Marvolo had to be some sort of wizard...Artemis couldn't imagine any Muggles naming their own child something so unusual and vaguely mythology-based.

"Were your parents wizards? No offense, but 'Riddle' doesn't ring a bell."

"No offense taken. My father was a Muggle – my magic comes from my mother's side of the family." Interesting, but that was not as important as…

"Do you know anything about the Chamber of Secrets?"

He waited for a reply.

"Of course I did. In my day, we were told that it was a legend, that it did not exist. Of course, it was a lie – in my fifth year, the Chamber was opened and the monster attacked several students, finally killing one. I caught the person who'd opened the Chamber and he was expelled. But the headmaster, Professor Dippet, ashamed that such a thing had happened at Hogwarts, forbade me not 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."

"Who was it? There have been four attacks – five, technically, because one of the attacks involved two people. Or actually, one boy, and a ghost. I'm afraid that the attacker is just choosing randomly by now – one person who got Petrified was a pureblood Slytherin," Artemis replied.

"That sounds very serious. Very well – I can show you, if you like. You don't have to take my word for it. My memories are preserved within these pages, and I can take you to the one of the night I caught him."

It was very well done, Artemis decided, but it was not enough to fool him. This Tom Marvolo Riddle…he was clever, all right. He knew just how to charm people into trusting him – giving out just enough information to entice and interest a curious soul, and then being shy and reasonable enough to not sound forceful. " 'I can show you, if you like. You don't have to take my word for it.' "

Yeah, right.

But seeing Riddle's viewpoint on the case would be interesting.

"Okay."

Artemis felt himself being sucked into the diary.


He landed on solid ground. Interesting.

Artemis could still feel a part of himself lying on his bed, safely in his room, and yet his reality seemed to be here, wherever he was. This out-of-body traveling experience was a rather odd, though enlightening sensation, in Artemis' opinion.

He looked around.

The room that he was currently in was exactly the same as Professor Dumbledore's office, except that the decorations were different. There were also less portraits.

Artemis realized that the spot where the previous headmaster's face had hung was empty.

The person in missing picture was instead, sitting behind the desk. Professor Armando Dippet – that was his name, wasn't it? Of course, this was fifty years ago, and Professor Dumbledore would not have been headmaster yet. Professor Dippet just stared in front of him, not noticing Artemis.

That was when Artemis understood, based on what he knew about his current situation – it was a memory, not going back in time. He was just a being, out of place here. A bit like watching a movie, but using one of those virtual reality gaming consoles that every single spoiled, immature, teenage, Muggle child just had to have.

A boy entered the office. Artemis assumed that he was Tom Riddle. He looked to be around fifteen or sixteen, which would fit Riddle's story that it took place in his fifth year, and his green, Slytherin robes had a badge pinned to it. That was also sensible, considering Riddle's tale.

Artemis was mildly impressed – Tom Riddle could easily be a classic Slytherin. He supposed that many people would describe him with the typical phrase, "tall, dark, and handsome." His deep brown hair was neatly styled, for someone who lived in the 1940's, anyway, and his even features, shapely nose, and strong jaw – they all blended perfectly well on his face. No one would suspect such a model, well-behaved child of being a criminal.

He and Tom Riddle looked alike, Artemis decided. In a completely humble manner, of course. This had nothing to do with looks - it was just a description meant for the benefit of the audience.

(Yeah, sure.)

(Shut it, you - and stop abusing the fourth wall so much. Honestly. Now let's get back to the story and stop these random interruptions and tangents, shall we?)

Professor Dippet looked up from his desk. "My boy, Tom, what can I do for you?"

"Professor Dippet…about my question…Are you sure I am not allowed to stay over the summer?"

The old man sighed, and shook his head. "I am sorry, Tom, but we can't afford to let you stay here. With all of these attacks, and that girl that just got killed…They may just close down the school altogether."

Tom Riddle looked quite shocked and worried. Obviously, he didn't want his magical education to end. Did he not like his home? Artemis knew that he was not revealing everything he knew.

"Professor Dippet, what if someone were to catch the person who's doing this? If they were caught, surely the school would be opened again?"

The headmaster looked surprised. "Tom, do you know something about it, then?" he asked gleefully. Of course he would be, if one's school was about to be closed down and one was presented a way to prevent that.

But Tom just stared at him with dark, calculating eyes. "No, sir."

It was just like the "No" that Artemis had given Professor Dumbledore a few weeks ago.

Tom Riddle then turned and left. Artemis could feel the memory pulling him after the boy, and followed him.

"Tom, what are you doing up at this time of night?" a man asked. Artemis found something familiar about the man…of course! It was Professor Dumbledore – simply younger. Artemis had grown so used to the ancient vision of the man. His silver hair and beard were still auburn (although long and styled in the same way) and his wizened face was not yet wrinkled.

"Nothing, Professor Dumbledore," Tom said innocently. Professor Dumbledore's blue eyes pierced him calculatingly – they were cold and thoughtful, not the twinkling look which accompanied the amused smile that Artemis was so used to seeing.

Clearly, Professor Dumbledore and Tom Riddle had a bit of a turbulent history, because warranting that sort of behavior from the current (well, technically, future) Headmaster did not come without a good reason. Especially since Dumbledore was the type of guy who was always trying to give out second chances.

After all, Dumbledore still chose to give even Artemis himself a chance and treat him like the other students even among rumors of his notorious exploits (some were merely rumors, but most were even worse than the story told).

Dumbledore continued staring at Tom as he said, "Then I must ask you to return to your dormitory. Be careful, Tom…it is not a good idea to roam about alone at night." Then, he walked away, but from his gait, Artemis could easily tell that while Professor Dumbledore had physically turned his back on Tom Riddle, he would never for a single second metaphorically turn his back on such a dangerous individual.

Artemis wondered where someone like Riddle was now, and why he would be returning to Hogwarts...

He had never before heard about someone named Tom Riddle.

Riddle stood there for a long time in the same spot, watching the future headmaster disappear into the distance, before some footsteps sounded. Following the noise, both Artemis and Tom ran until they ended up in front of a cupboard in an abandoned corridor.

It was a younger version of Rubeus Hagrid – still lots of thick, frizzy hair, though no beard had yet developed. Even as a schoolboy, he towered over both Riddle and Artemis. He was trying to conceal something in a box. A mysterious rustling and clicking sound was emanating from it.

"I'm sorry, Hagrid – but I have to turn you in," Tom Riddle said. Hagrid whipped around.

"No, yeh can'! Aragog's innocent! Innocent, I tell yeh!" boy-Hagrid protested.

"I must, Hagrid – the girl's parents will be here tomorrow and they may close down the school if the perpetrator isn't caught. Please, Hagrid, be sensible –"

"No, yeh have it all wrong! Aragog wouldn' never! I never –"

"I know you didn't do it on purpose, Rubeus," Tom said. "But the fact remains that monsters just don't make good pets. I suppose you just let it out for a midnight walk and it happened upon a snack –"

Hagrid still protested violently. Not a smart idea.

Riddle pulled out his wand and with one quick movement, had unlocked the box. Immediately, the largest, hairiest spider that Artemis had ever seen sprang out of the box, scuttled over Riddle, and vanished into the night –

Another swirl of light, and then Artemis was back on his bed.


So that was the lie that Riddle had been telling everyone. That Aragog – some type of spider, probably an acromantula – was the beast of Slytherin, and that Hagrid was the Heir. He had only sealed the Chamber and "caught" someone because he didn't want to go home…

Artemis felt angry enough to kill Riddle, but decided against it. He still needed proof of his innocence, after all. Artemis picked up the quill and began writing again. "Why did you want to stay at Hogwarts over the summer in the first place?"

The response took a while. Finally, Riddle seemed to relent, deciding that Artemis, a.k.a. Harry, was not a threat, and replied, "I live(d) in a Muggle orphanage. It was a rather boring place, and no one really understood me."

"I grew up in the Muggle world, too," Artemis wrote in response, hoping that being sympathetic would allow him to wheedle more information out of Riddle.

"It's not very spectacular, is it?"

"Magic is far more interesting." Actually, Muggle technology had its perks, too, but he had to tell Riddle what he wanted to hear in order to get any more out of him.

"I think that it is an amazing thing." He wasn't going anywhere with this. Time to drop the bomb.

"But not amazing enough to detect a liar when they see one, right?"

The writing stopped. "Excuse me?"

"Do you really expect me to believe that a spider is the beast of Slytherin and that a half-giant-troll like Hagrid is the Heir of Slytherin? It was you, wasn't it? You framed him and stopped the mischief because you felt that you were too good to be sent back to a measly orphanage, isn't it right?"

There was no answer.

Of course there wouldn't be.

Maybe he had been a little too straightforward in his accusations. He threw the diary into his trunk, and sealed it properly for good measure.

He knew that Tom Riddle was the Heir now, and he knew that the diary had something to do with it. You couldn't exactly hide a concrete object or a solid, moving person in there. It could think for itself, however, which was disturbing – what if it could think for someone else as well? How would it get out –

Weasley. Not the annoying boy that was friends with Potter, but the youngest one. The one that had been carrying the book.

She had had the diary. What if she was writing in it, too? What if it had somehow gotten ahold of her and forced her to do all of these atrocious crimes? That girl – Ronald Weasley's sister – must have been writing in it all year…feeding it with her little stories on daily life.

How would she have gotten her hands on it in the first place, anyway?

Artemis' eyes widened with sudden realization. That day in the bookstore, when Lucius Malfoy had been mocking her – he had taken one of her books, hadn't he? That was probably how he knew about it – how Dobby the house-elf knew –

"Take it – it's the best your father can give you."

Hadn't the textbook been returned, slightly thicker than before? What if he had been the one who hid the diary in there – as a plot to get rid of Dumbledore? And what relation did he have to Tom Riddle – how did he even get the diary in the first place?

Artemis glowered at the innocent diary in his trunk. Tom Marvolo Riddle.

Wait – Tom Marvolo Riddle –

Artemis grabbed a piece of parchment and wrote the name down, staring at it. Then, he (metaphorically) smacked himself in the forehead.

Merlin, how could he have been so stupid as to not notice that before?

TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE

Quickly, he crossed out letters and wrote them down underneath.

XOM XAXXXXX RIDXLX / VOLDEMORT

XXM XAXXXXX XIXXXX/ LORD VOLDEMORT

XXX XXXXXXX XXXXXX/ I AM LORD VOLDEMORT

Artemis stared at the letters, still wet with ink, glistening in front of him. This wasn't good. This wasn't just some coincidence.

Winter break ended tomorrow. He had to tell Harry Potter – and fast.