Draco seized his quill. Who are you?
The words appeared within seconds. I was a Hogwarts student fifty years ago.
Draco's heart pounded. Fifty years ago when the Chamber of Secrets opened?
Yes. How do you know about the Chamber?
It's been opened again. There have been more attacks. What do you know about the Chamber?
I am the person who caught the one who first opened it.
Draco's breath caught in his chest. He considered calling for Ron, but then dismissed it. He would do this alone. Who was it, he scribbled, can you tell me about it?
No.
The answer caused him to flop back in his chair. He kicked the leg of the desk. "Well that was pointless," he muttered to himself. Another sentence of writing appeared on the page. He leant forwards to read it.
I can show you.
Draco's heart quickened. He picked up the quill to write a reply, but the pages of the diary began to whirl. He felt himself sucked in, towards the pages, until he finally toppled inside the diary.
He stared around him. He found himself in Dumbledore's office. Except it wasn't Dumbledore who was sat in the chair, bent over the desk. There were no silver contraptions whizzing and whirring on little tables, no Fawkes the phoenix… Draco leant forwards. "Excuse me, I don't suppose you could tell me what year this is?"
The man behind the desk didn't move. "Excuse me," Draco raised his voice, "Could you tell me what year it is?" Still nothing. Draco tutted, as he had seen his father do on many previous occasions, and rolled his eyes, taking in more of the room as he did so. The door creaked open behind him, making him jump. A tall, sixth year boy entered, a prefect badge gleaming on his chest.
"Ah, Riddle," the old man said, standing up to greet the boy.
"Professor Dippet," Tom replied. Neither of them acknowledged Draco's presence. It dawned on him that he was in a memory, not the actual past, and therefore could not be seen or heard by anyone around him. He leant against the desk, eagerly listening in to the conversation.
"I received your letter," Professor Dippet said, holding up a neatly folded piece of paper.
"Ah, yes." Tom waited nervously for the Professor's response.
"You must see this is out of the question. I cannot allow you to remain here at Hogwarts over the summer."
Tom's face fell. "But please, Professor… I can't bear to return to that… that—"
"I understand you live in a muggle orphanage?"
"Yes, sir." Tom fiddled with the edge of his robes. "Please don't make me go back there. I don't belong! Let me stay here; Hogwarts is my home."
Professor Dippet shook his head. "Not anymore, Tom."
"Do you mean because of the recent attacks?"
"Yes. Especially because of them. I am still in talks with the Ministry as to whether Hogwarts will be closed— nothing is certain. I don't know if the school will survive this."
"You can't close Hogwarts!"
Professor Dippet gave an apologetic nod.
"But if the person responsible for these attacks was caught," Tom persisted, "then the school would be kept open."
"I would hope so," the elderly Professor sighed, "but nothing is certain, Tom. You must see that." His eyes narrowed. "Do you know who might be responsible?"
"No, sir." Tom's answer was a little too quick. The hairs on Draco's arms and neck prickled.
Professor Dippet gave another, almighty sigh and flopped back in his seat. "Very well. Goodnight, Tom."
"Goodnight, Professor." Tom rose from his seat, a steely look in his eye. He headed for the door, Draco hot on his heels. Tom glided down the stairs, but came to sudden halt at the bottom, and Draco almost crashed through him.
A silent parade passed through the halls. Two men walked in front and behind a floating stretcher. There was something, or rather someone, on the stretcher, covered by a thin blanket. Draco could see two, small shoes poking out the bottom. Tom bowed his head as it passed, but knowing he couldn't be seen, Draco stared with wide eyes. As soon as it was past them, Tom set off again, this time picking up speed. He raced down a narrow, spiral staircase, along a corridor and paused behind a slightly ajar door. There they waited, until suddenly Tom threw the door open with a bang, his wand drawn.
Draco gawped. A young Rubeus Hagrid cowered in the corner, his hands raised to protect his face.
"Come, Hagrid," Tom said breathlessly, "this has to stop."
"I don't know what yer talkin' abou'," Hagrid said quickly.
"Monsters aren't pets," Tom said, "I've just seen the body of that girl. The girl who died."
"He never killed no one!" Hagrid burst out, "Never!"
"The least we can do is bring out the body of the beast that killed her," Tom said, "it won't bring her back but her grieving parents will—"
"Aragog wouldn't hurt anyone," Hagrid protested, "he's a good boy, he is. Ain't never seen anywhere but this box 'ere tha' I keep him in. Why are yeh doin' this?"
"You don't understand, Hagrid," Tom said, "they're going to close the school. There will be no Hogwarts if the beast isn't caught, and the culprit made to pay."
"I'm not… No…"
"They'll have your wand for this," Tom said simply. He flicked his wand at the box, and the latch clicked open. The lid of the box flew off and something thick, black and hairy, with far too many legs, burst out from inside it. It bowled Tom over as it rushed for the door.
Draco screamed as it lunged towards him, passing through his body and onwards down the passageway. "Arania Exumai!" Tom shouted, scrambling across the floor, but the spell missed the creature and scorched the stone.
"Aragog!" Hagrid made for the door, but Tom sprung up in his way, wand to his neck.
Draco felt a rush of air blow from behind him, drowning out Tom's words. Everything around him started to fade. The next thing he knew, he was back on his chair in the dormitory. The chair toppled backwards and Draco fell to the floor, just as Ron entered.
"Ah, there you— What are you doing?"
Draco stared up at him from his position sprawled across the floor. "I know who opened the Chamber," he panted, "it was Hagrid all along."