Arabella felt her feet hit solid ground, and stood, shaking, as the blurred shapes around her came suddenly into focus. Lyla was beside her, looking washed of color and frightened. With one glance around, the dark-haired sister was able to orient just where they were. This circular room with the sleeping portraits was Dumbledore's office— but it wasn't Dumbledore who was sitting behind the desk. A wizened, frail-looking wizard, bald except for a few wisps of white hair, was reading a letter by candlelight. Arabella had never seen this man before.

"I'm sorry," Lyla said hesitantly. "We didn't mean to butt in—"

But the wizard didn't look up. He continued to read, frowning slightly. Arabella drew nearer to his desk and stammered, "Er — I'll just go, shall I?"

Still, the wizard ignored them. He didn't seem even to have heard him. Thinking that the wizard might be deaf, Lyla raised her voice.

"Sorry I disturbed you. I'll go now," she half-shouted.

The wizard folded up the letter with a sigh, stood up, walked past where Arabella stood without glancing at her and went to draw the curtains at his window. The sky outside the window was ruby-red; it seemed to be sunset. The wizard went back to the desk, sat down, and twiddled his thumbs, watching the door.

Arabella looked around the office. No Fawkes the phoenix— no whirring silver contraptions. This was Hogwarts as Riddle had known it, meaning that this unknown wizard was Headmaster, not Dumbledore, and Arabella and Lyla were little more than phantoms, completely invisible to the people of fifty years ago.

There was a knock on the office door.

"Enter," said the old wizard in a feeble voice.

A boy of about sixteen entered, taking off his pointed hat. A silver prefect's badge was glinting on his chest. He was tall and lean, as well as quite handsome. His dark eyes looked intellect and his head of jet-black hair lay neatly pressed to his head.

"Ah, Riddle," said the Headmaster.

"You wanted to see me, Professor Dippet?" asked Riddle. He looked nervous.

"Sit down," said Dippet. "I've just been reading the letter you sent me."

"Oh," said Riddle. He sat down, gripping his hands together very tightly.

"My dear boy," said Dippet kindly, "I cannot possibly let you stay at school over the summer. Surely you want to go home for the holidays?"

"No," said Riddle at once. "I'd much rather stay at Hogwarts than go back to that— to that —"

"You live in a Muggle orphanage during the holidays, I believe?" said Dippet curiously.

"Yes, sir," said Riddle, reddening slightly. "I do."

"You are Muggle-born?"

"Half-blood, sir," said Riddle. "Muggle father, Witch mother."

"And are both your parents —?"

"From what I know, my mother died just after I was born, sir. They told me at the orphanage she lived just long enough to name me— Tom after my father, Marvolo after my grandfather."

Dipper clucked his tongue sympathetically.

"The thing is, Tom," he sighed, "Special arrangements might have been made for you, but in the current circumstances..."

"You mean all these attacks, sir?" said Riddle, and Arabella felt her heart leap.

"Precisely," said the headmaster. "My dear boy, you must see how foolish it would be of me to allow you to remain at the castle when the term ends. Particularly in light of the recent tragedy... the death of that poor little girl... You will be safer by far at your orphanage. As a matter of fact, the Ministry of Magic is even now talking about closing the school. We are no nearer locating the — er — source of all this unpleasantness..."

Riddle's eyes had widened.

"Sir — if the person was caught — if it all stopped —"

"What do you mean?" said Dippet with a squeak in his voice, sitting up in his chair. "Riddle, do you mean you know something about these attacks?"

"No, sir," said Riddle quickly.

But Arabella was sure it was the same sort of "no" that Lyla had given Dumbledore. Dippet sank back, looking faintly disappointed.

"You may go, Tom..."

Riddle slid off his chair and slouched out of the room. With a curious look passing between the sisters, they followed him without a word.

Down the moving spiral staircase, they went, emerging next to the gargoyle in the darkening corridor. Riddle stopped, and so did Arabella and Lyla, watching him closely. Arabella could tell that Riddle was doing some serious thinking. He was biting at his lower lip, his forehead furrowed. Then, as though he had suddenly reached a decision, he hurried off, the sisters gliding noiselessly behind him. They didn't see another person until they reached the entrance hall when a tall wizard with long, sweeping auburn hair and a beard called to Riddle from the marble staircase.

"What are you doing, wandering around this late, Tom?"

Lyla gaped at the wizard. He was none other than a fifty-year-younger Dumbledore.

"I had to see the headmaster, sir," said Riddle.

"Well, hurry off to bed," said Dumbledore, giving Riddle exactly the kind of penetrating stare Harry knew so well. "Best not to roam the corridors these days. Not since..."

He sighed heavily, bade Riddle good night, and strode off. Riddle watched him walk out of sight and then, moving quickly, headed straight down the stone steps to the dungeons, with Arabella and Lyla in hot pursuit.

But to Arabella's disappointment, Riddle led him not into a hidden passageway or a secret tunnel but to the very dungeon in which they had Potions with Snape. The torches hadn't been lit, and when Riddle pushed the door almost closed, Arabella could only just see him, standing stock-still by the door, watching the passage outside. It felt to her that they were there for at least an hour.

"What's he doing?" whispered Lyla.

"Shhhh!"

All Arabella could see was the figure of Riddle at the door, staring through the crack, waiting like a statue. And just when she had stopped feeling expectant and tense and started wishing they could return to the present, she heard something move beyond the door. Someone was creeping along the passage. She heard whoever it was pass the dungeon where she and Riddle were hidden. Riddle, quiet as a shadow, edged through the door and followed, the sisters tiptoeing behind him, forgetting that they couldn't be heard. For perhaps five minutes they followed the footsteps, until Riddle stopped suddenly, his head inclined in the direction of new noises. Arabella heard a door creak open, and then someone speaking in a hoarse whisper.

"C'mon... gotta get yeh outta here... C'mon now... in the box..."

There was something familiar about that voice…

Riddle suddenly jumped around the corner. Arabella and Lyla fanned out behind him. They could see the dark outline of a huge boy who was crouching in front of an open door, a very large box next to it.

"Evening, Rubeus," said Riddle sharply.

The boy slammed the door shut and stood up.

"What yer doin' down here, Tom?"

Riddle stepped closer, eyeing the giant with caution.

"It's all over," he said. "I'm going to have to turn you in, Rubeus. They're talking about closing Hogwarts if the attacks don't stop."

"'What d'yeh —"

"I don't think you meant to kill anyone. But monsters don't make good pets. I suppose you just let it out for exercise and —"

"He never killed no one!" said the large boy, backing against the closed door. From behind him, Arabella could hear a funny rustling and clicking.

"Come on, Rubeus," said Riddle, moving yet closer. "The dead girl's parents will be here tomorrow. The least Hogwarts can do is make sure that the thing that killed their daughter is slaughtered..."

"It wasn't him!" roared the boy, his voice echoing in the dark passage. "He wouldn'! He never!"

"Stand aside, Rubeus!" said Riddle firmly, drawing out his wand.

His spell lit the corridor with a sudden flaming light. The door behind the large boy flew open with such force it knocked him into the wall opposite. And out of it came something that made Arabella let out a long, piercing scream unheard by anyone. A vast, low-slung, hairy body and a tangle of black legs; a gleam of many eyes and a pair of razor-sharp pincers— Riddle raised his wand again, but he was too late. The thing bowled him over as it scuttled away, tearing up the corridor and out of sight. Riddle scrambled to his feet, looking after it; he raised his wand, but the huge boy leaped on him, seized his wand, and threw him back down,

"NOOOOOO!" he bellowed.

The scene whirled, the darkness became complete; Arabella felt herself falling and, with a crash, she landed spread-eagled on the library floor, the diary lying open beside her on the floor. Lyla was beside her, panting harshly, and quickly jumped up.

"It was Hagrid!" she wheezed, clambering back to the table where they had started the night.

"It was Hagrid," repeated Arabella, slowly getting to her own feet, "I can't believe it– It was Hagrid who opened the Chamber of Secrets fifty years ago."

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