Chapter 16: False Memory

When Neville opened his eyes, he found himself in the headmaster's office. But it was not the office he remembered. For one thing, none of the spindly instruments that littered the office, nor Fawkes's perch were in their usual places. Instead, a very frail-looking wizard in deep midnight robes was sitting behind the headmaster's desk. Bald except for a few wisps of hair, the man didn't look up from the letter he was reading. Neville realized that this must be the headmaster.

"Um, sorry for dropping in on you, but-" Neville paused when he realized that the headmaster didn't even react. Apparently, he was unable to be seen or heard by the headmaster.

Neville started as there was a knock on the door. "Come in." The wizard replied at once, folding the letter and stuffing it in the envelope.

A tall, pale, handsome teenager entered the office, shutting the door quietly behind him. "You wanted to see me, Headmaster?"

"Yes, Tom. I received your letter about your request to remain at Hogwarts over the summer holidays. I'm afraid I will have to decline your request, given recent events."

"You mean the attacks and the death of that girl?" Riddle asked, his face impassive.

"Yes, it is unfortunate, and the girl's parents want the culprit caught." The old man shuffled a stack of parchment on his desk to avoid looking at Riddle.

"And if the culprit is caught?" Riddle prompted.

The headmaster frowned at these words. "Tom, do you know anything about the attacks?"

"No, sir." Riddle said at once, but Neville could tell it was said the same way that he had answered Dumbledore.

"It's getting late, Tom. Hurry off to bed." The headmaster waved a hand, dismissing him.

Riddle left the office, heading down the corridor and down the stairs. Neville followed silently behind him. At the bottom of the staircase stood a tall, thin wizard with long auburn hair. With a shock, Neville realized that it was a younger version of Dumbledore. "Tom, what are you doing wandering the castle at this time of night?"

"I had to see the headmaster." Riddle explained.

"Head off to bed, then, Tom. It is unwise to linger on your own during these troubled times." Dumbledore nodded and mounted the steps, passing him as he continued upstairs.

Neville followed Riddle down the stairs to the passage to the dungeons. In the dungeons where he had Potions, movement could be heard ahead. As Riddle stepped closer, Neville saw the tall, broad figure of a large boy hunched over something. "In yeh go, that's a good lad." Neville heard a familiar voice.

"Rubeus, it's all over. You have to let the monster go. It killed that girl and her parents want the monster caught and killed." Riddle demanded, pulling out his wand and pointing it at the boy's broad back.

The boy spun around and held up his hands. "Aragog didn' hurt no one! He's harmless!" He insisted.

A jet of light shot at the object behind the boy and a bang sounded. Something with many hairy legs scuttled out, disappearing from view as Riddle shot more spells after it.

Neville felt himself being pulled away from the scene as the boy's yells echoed in his ears. He landed on his bed, panting, horrified.

The door opened and Ron and Harry entered the room, seeing Neville's horrified expression. "What's wrong?" Harry asked, concerned.

"Hagrid." Neville panted, looking up at him. "Hagrid opened the Chamber of Secrets fifty years ago."

Over the next few days, Ron, Harry, and Hermione asked what had happened so many times that Neville got tired of answering them. "There's one question that remains, though." Hermione sighed, one afternoon.

"And what is that?" Harry asked, looking over at her.

"Should we ask Hagrid if he opened the Chamber of Secrets?" Hermione asked, grimly.

"Oh yeah, that would be a happy occasion. 'Hey, Hagrid, have you sent a mad, hairy monster around the castle?'" Ron asked, snorting in amusement.

"Still-"

"I know what you mean." Neville nodded. He looked at the three of them. "I think we can let it lie unless someone else is attacked. There's no reason to talk unless the attacks continue. Agreed?"

"Agreed." The other three nodded.

As March arrived, there were no more attacks on students. The school went back to business as usual, the attacks a distant, unpleasant memory. Professor Sprout announced during one Herbology lesson that the Mandrakes had thrown a party, which indicated that they were closer to maturity. "Once they move into each other's pots, I'll know they're ready to be procured into a cure for those poor people in the hospital wing." She explained to Neville, Harry, Hermione, and Ron.

"Good! Then they'll be able to tell us who attacked them and we won't have to ask Hagrid what happened." Ron said, quietly to the other three.

As the final Quidditch match of the season approached, the second years had something else to worry about. As third years, they would have the choices of taking electives, and pamphlets were set out to help them choose. "Wish I could get rid of Potions, Richman is insufferable." Harry muttered, looking over the pamphlets.

"Sorry, mate, we keep our old subjects. Otherwise, I'd dump Defense Against the Dark Arts. With Lockhart teaching, the only thing I've learned is not to release a cage of Cornish pixies." Ron answered darkly, tossing a pamphlet for Ancient Runes onto the pile.

"What do you have against Ancient Runes, Ron? I think the subject's fascinating." Hermione gave him a glare and snatched up the pamphlet.

"What subjects are you thinking of doing?" Neville asked, looking through the pamphlets.

"I want to try all of them, they all sound so great." Hermione said, absently, flipping through the Ancient Runes pamphlet.

"Not even you could handle that many subjects, Hermione." Ron shook his head.

When it came time to picking the subjects, Harry and Neville chose the same subjects as Ron, while Hermione chose as many subjects as she could.

Saturday afternoon Harry, Ron, Neville, and Hermione returned to the common room after a Quidditch practice to find Dean pacing the room, panicking. "I'm sorry, Neville, I was just up in the dormitory and-your-the-"

"What is it, Dean?" Neville asked, his stomach dropping.

"Someone's ransacked our dormitory." Dean answered, looking horrified. "Sorry, mate."

They hurried up to the dorm room. The room was indeed ransacked, sheets yanked off the bed, hangings torn, books pulled out of the cabinets. "Who could have done this?" Ron demanded, looking around.

"Only a Gryffindor would have access to our dormitory." Harry pointed out as Neville searched through the things. "Anything missing?"

Neville gave him a significant look and waited until Dean had left. "Yeah, whoever it was stole the diary."