A/N So sorry for the long delay in updating, please forgive me! School has been a nightmare and that's been taking up all my time. I'll try to resume a regular update.
Try as he might, Harry couldn't get the diary to present anything more than blank pages and Harry began to think that maybe Ron was right; the diary was nothing more than an empty book. However, he couldn't shake the feeling that he'd heard the name T.M. Riddle somewhere before, as though Riddle was a close friend he'd had when he was very small. He kept absent-mindedly picking it up at odd moments and idly thumbing through the diary, even though he knew it was empty. Harry couldn't explain, even to himself, what hold it was that the diary had over him.
As they slowly exited winter and the pale sun began to shine on Hogwarts again, the mood inside the castle gradually grew more hopeful. Maybe the Heir, whoever he or she was, had lost their nerve because there had been no more attacks since those on Justin and Nearly Headless Nick. Madam Pomfrey had announced that the Mandrakes would soon be ready for preparing and those that had been petrified would be cured.
Lockhart seemed to think that he himself had made the attacks stop and strode about the castle, chest puffed out. Harry overheard him telling Professor McGonagall, who seemed to be only barely restraining her temper, "I don't think you'll have any more trouble, Minerva. After all, this 'Heir' must have known that it was only a matter of time until I caught up with them." Harry had no doubt that the story of the Chamber of Secrets would appear in Lockhart's next book, with Lockhart as the hero.
Something much worse than the Chamber of Secrets was fast approaching Hogwarts, however, and that was Lockhart's 'Valentine's Day Surprise'. The morning of February the fourteenth Harry hurried down to the Great Hall for breakfast, slightly late. He thought, for a moment, that he'd walked through the wrong doors. The walls were covered with large, lurid pink flowers. Worse still, never ending, heart shaped confetti was falling from the pale blue ceiling. Harry walked as fast as he could to the Gryffindor table and sat down beside a sickened looking Ron. At the teacher's table Lockhart stood up and spread his arms, "Happy Valentine's Day!" he shouted. "I have taken the liberty of arranging this little surprise for you all, and it doesn't end here!" Lockhart clapped his hands and a dozen surly looking dwarves marched through the Entrance Hall. Not just any dwarves however, Lockhart had them wearing gold wings and carrying harps. Harry desperately wanted to laugh but felt that it would be best not to provoke the dwarves. They were glaring as if daring anyone to question their attire.
"My friendly, card carrying, cupids," beamed Lockhart, seemingly unaware of the air of amused disbelief that was washing around the Great Hall at the word 'friendly'. "They will be roving around the school today delivering your Valentines! And the fun doesn't stop there! I'm sure my colleagues will want to enter the sprit of the occasion! Why not ask Professor Snape to show you how to whip up a Love Potion! Or ask Professor Flitwick a thing or two about Entrancing Enchantments! I'm sure he knows much more than he lets on, the old dog!"
Professor Flitwick buried his head in his hands and Harry was surprised that Lockhart was still standing since the glare that Snape was currently sending him would have levelled a full grown mountain troll. Fortunately, Lockhart soon stopped talking and sat down, allowing them to eat.
All day long, the dwarves kept barging into classes and stopping students in corridors to deliver Valentines, to the annoyance of the teachers, except Professor Binns, their History of Magic teacher, who didn't seem to notice his class being interrupted. Somebody, and Harry suspected the Weasley twins, had even sent a musical Valentine to Snape, who had promised to personally assure that the one responsible would be expelled. Late that afternoon, however, as the Gryffindors walking up for Charms, one of the dwarves caught up with Harry.
"Oy! You!" Shouted a particularly grim looking dwarf as it elbowed students out of the way to get to Harry. "'Arry Potter! C'mere!" Hot all over at the thought of being given a Valentine in front of a queue of First Years, which happened to include Ginny Weasley, Harry tried desperately to escape. Unfortunately, the dwarf reached him before he'd managed to get two paces.
"I've got a musical message to deliver to 'Arry Potter in person," he said, twanging his hap in a threatening sort of way.
"Not here," Harry hissed, trying to ignore the stares.
"Stay still," grunted the dwarf as he grabbed hold of Harry's bag and pulled 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, his ink bottle smashing over the lot. Harry scrambled, trying to pick it all up before the dwarf started to sing. He stuffed his things into his ripped bag, before muttering "Reparo,"
"What's going on here?" came the cold, drawling voice of Draco Malfoy. Harry's attempts to get away became all the more desperate before Malfoy, of all people, could hear his musical Valentine.
"What's all this commotion?" came another familiar voice as Percy Weasley came into view. 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 ground.
"Right," the dwarf said matter-of-factly as he sat on Harry's chest to stop him escaping, "here is your singing Valentine:
His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad,
His hair is as dark as a blackboard.
I with he was mine, he's really divine,
The hero who conquered the Dark Lord."
Trying desperately to laugh along with everybody else, which proved painful, as the dwarf had squashed all the air out of him. He got up slowly as Percy Weasley tried to disperse the crowd. "Off you go, the bell rang five minutes ago, off to class, now," he said, as he attempted to shoo the students along, some of who were crying with mirth. "And you, Malfoy," Harry glanced over and saw Malfoy stoop to pick something up. Leering, he leaned back to show it to Crabbe and Goyle. An inexplicable feeling of dread washed over Harry as he realised it was Riddle's diary.
"Give that back," Harry said quietly,
"Don't think I want to," Malfoy replied, sneering. He waved the diary tauntingly at Harry as a hush fell over the onlookers. Ginny was looking from the diary to Harry with a look of terror on her face.
"Hand it over, Malfoy," said Percy pompously,
"When I've had a look," replied Malfoy, grinning. Percy puffed himself up indignantly,
"As school prefect-", Percy began, but Harry had had enough. He pulled out his wand and disarmed Malfoy. Malfoy found the diary shooting out of his hand and into the air, Ron, grinning broadly, caught it. "Harry!" Percy shouted. "No magic in the corridors! I'll have to report this!"
But Harry didn't care, he'd got one over on Malfoy and that was worth five points from Gryffindor any day. Malfoy was looking furious, and as Ginny passed him to enter her classroom he yelled spitefully, "I don't think Potter liked your Valentine much, Weasley!" Ginny covered her face with hands and ran into class. Snarling, Ron pulled out his own wand, but since Harry already his out he had already hexed Malfoy, causing his face to sprout tentacles. Crabbe and Goyle cracked their knuckles menacingly, but they turned to follow Malfoy who had to go to the Hospital Wing.
It wasn't until they finally reached Professor Flitwick's class (loosing a further five points for lateness in the process) that Harry noticed something odd about Riddle's diary. All his other books were drenched in ink from the smashed bottle, although Professor Flitwick, who became immediately sympathetic when he heard that it was Lockhart's Valentines dwarfs who were to blame, was able to clean it up with a charm. The diary, however, was as clean as it had been before the ink bottle had smashed over it. Even Ron agreed that this was a sign that the diary contained some kind of magical powers, but they still had no idea of how to get the diary to reveal what they were.
Eventually, Harry found out the key to unlocking the diary's secrets. It was frustrating, in a way; having tried all manner of charms, enchantments and magical devices Harry decided, on a frustrated whim, to write in it.
And the diary wrote back.
The diary would've, it had had enough feeling left to do so, celebrated. It had finally succeeded in ensnaring the Potter boy. It was so close … so close now, it could almost feel it. It would have real life once more and the boy would reveal his secret.
Even though they had an answer, Harry, Ron and Hermione were now faced with an even greater quandary. They had been given convincing evidence that Hagrid, their friend, was the Heir of Slytherin. It sounded ridiculous to even say the phrase out loud. But, even though they were sure that Hagrid would never deliberately hurt someone, they couldn't deny that he did have an unfortunate liking for 'pets' that had the ability to rip a man to pieces.
Harry half wished he had never learned out how to work Riddle's diary. He was heartily sick of the long, circular conversations. He almost knew the back and forth arguments by heart and he stopped participating in them all together after a while. Harry had written to Sirius and Remus about what he had found out. Sirius had outright rejected Riddle's evidence, immediately insisting that Riddle must have framed Hagrid. Remus was more level headed, pointing out that the attacks must have stopped after Hagrid's expulsion, but also pointing out that Dumbledore must have known, or at least suspected, something, since it was he who insisted that Hagrid be allowed to stay on as Gamekeeper.
In the end, Harry, Ron and Hermione decided that they wouldn't say anything to Hagrid unless there was another attack, and as more and more days went by with no whisper from the disembodied voice, they became hopeful that they would never need to talk to him about why he had been expelled. It was now nearly four months since Justin and Nearly Headless Nick had been petrified and nearly everyone seemed to think that the attacker had retired for good.