Chapter 18
It was dark. Very dark; Harry had not lit the candle in what he figured was the equivalent of at least two weeks. There was no reason, really, except that he was too tired to move much from the cot. He wondered at first if there had been some poisoning in on of the jars; then he realized it must just have been from the despair creeping through his all.
Beside him was the table full of jars, but he had not had occasion to use any of the ointments since before he stopped lighting the candles. Now and again, he wondered briefly why the jars had been put there at all-for his own use, or for anothers?-but soon tired from the mental strength it took to wonder.
Nothing had disturbed the dark of the dungeon cell since he had been put there by Lucius Malfoy. His meals appeared to him on a tray just beside his bed, whenever he wished for them-which was not often. Hunger seemed a thing of the past, not worth worrying about.
The spell that had bewitched him weeks before had not come back, and he was glad. For days after his headlong plunge into the large iron door of the dungeon he ached all over; not even the strange and wonderful salve that had healed his spider-bites could help much.
Often he wondered what the spell had been, why it had been, and who had inflicted it. But after a while he did not care-it didn't matter, after all. By now he knew with full certainty that he was guarded more closely than he had ever been in the bedroom-prison, that he was watched in many more ways than one.
He was now on the cot, staring up at the ceiling he could not see. A spider crawled across his hand, but he did not care; he only lay very still so that the spider would pass by. It did.
Suddenly, unexpectedly, and inexplicably, the cell flooding with light. Harry's eyelids snapped shut-he was so used to the darkness that the piercing light hurt with a very sharp pain. His hands, too, flew to his eyes to shield them from the light.
A cold laugh echoed through the stone dungeon. "I see you're surprised at the light," Lucius Malfoy drawled. "Didn't you burn the candles I sent you?"
The words, for he had not heard words in a very long time, echoed strangely through his mind.
Burn the didn't you burn the candles I burn the light the candles I sent you burn the light the candles I-
"No," said Harry. His voice was strangely croaky; when he tried to whet his lips he found his mouth to be very dry. Water. Water I need water please give me water I need-"I'd like water," he said aloud, a little more assurance in his tone.
No sooner than he had spoken than did a glass of extremely dubious-looking, brackish water appear beside him. Lucius Malfoy's lip curled, but he did not say anything for a moment.
"So," Malfoy said finally. "So."
So so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so-
"So what?" He had meant to sound defiant-instead he only croaked still more.
"So, Harry Potter, I have something to show you," said Malfoy smoothly, sneering. "Something that, no doubt, you will be happy to see."
Happy to see show you something happy to see what is it what is it show me happy to see something show me happy to see-
"Show me what?" Harry asked. This time he didn't even try to sound defiant; he realized that he had fully lost control of his vocal chords and that they would have to decide on their tone without him.
Malfoy strode over to where Harry sat on the cot. Harry stood quickly, then sank back down-weeks of not moving at all had nearly caused his joints how to stand, how to walk, how to run.
"Look at this," Malfoy sneered, and tossed a glass globe about the size of a soccer ball down to him. Smirking, he retreated into the shadowy corner and dimmed the light from the sphere he carried.
Look at this look at it look look what is it look at it look at it this what is this look at this what is look look look what is it what is look look at this look at-
Harry stared into the globe unseeingly, wondering with one corner of his mind what Malfoy could be thinking. Suddenly his eyes widened; an image had begun to form inside the ball.
What is this what is this what could it be crystal is it a crystal ball what is it does it tell the future is it a crystal a crystal ball what what what-
The image began to grow, revolving very fast. It was a person-two people-in long, black robes and tall, pointed black hats.
Who are they who who what are they who are they what are they doing who what who who who who what are they doing why are they what are they doing what who-
The image now filled the entire globe, and it came into sharp focus. Suddenly it began to move. The two figures in Hogwarts robes were both walking along a corridor-Harry recognized it as one going into the entrance hall-although they did not seem to be walking together.
The shorter figure walked slowly, drinking from a glass of clear water as she did so. Suddenly she looked towards the wall, and her face came into clear view. It was Hermione.
Harry stared at the globe hungrily. He had not realized how much he missed his friends; the sight of Hermione's familiar face was like water in the middle of a dry desert.
Hermione turned back to face forward and took another sip of water as she did so.
Suddenly the other girl flicked a wrist around as if checking the time on a wristwatch. Suddenly she quickened her pace and passed Hermione, looking distracted-as she sped up, she bumped into Hermione, knocking the glass of water out of Hermione's hand and causing it to spill all over the floor.
Hermione turned to her angrily. No sounds came from the globe, but Harry was sure from the look on Hermione's face that she was not very happy. She pointed down at the puddle of water-
Suddenly a great green shape entered the frame. An enormous snake with yellow, glowing bulbous eyes confronted the two girls, who were still looking at the puddle of water on the ground.
They both went very white-Harry supposed that the head of the great snake was reflected in the water, which was good cause to be afraid-but it didn't stop at their faces. Slowly an ashen-gray pallor crept down to their toes. Even their clothes had turned greyish white. White as-white as-Harry groped for a word.
White as marble.
"Hermione!" Harry croaked. He hadn't meant to; he regretted it now as Malfoy emerged from the shadows, smirking.
"Yes," he said drawlingly. "I do believe that Mudblood was your.friend." He spat the last word as if it were trash.
Anger welled deep inside Harry, but he was too weak to do anything about it. Instead, he looked down at the globe.
The picture of Hermione and the other girl had been replaced. Now he saw two more figures. One was a boy with dark hair, walking towards a classroom. The other was a pearly-white ghost, floating behind him-the two seemed to be talking, but Harry could not be certain.
Harry looked closer at the ghost. It was Nearly Headless Nick, the ghost of Gryffindor House.
Then Harry saw something else. The green snake had once more appeared in the frame-behind Nick. The dark-haired boy whitened as Hermione and the other girl had done. Nick simply turned to a dark grey, almost black.
A moment later, the picture blinked once and disappeared, and Harry was left holding a transparent glass globe in his hand once more.
He knew that Malfoy was simply waiting for him to ask about the black- haired boy, so he didn't. Sure enough, Malfoy made a sound of impatience and strode forward until he was towering over Harry, a twisted smile on his face.
"Uh.." Harry said finally, feeling the menace in his companion's demeanor grow with each passing moment. "Who was.he?" he asked lamely.
Malfoy gave a short, cold laugh. "I thought you might ask that. He, as you so put it, is one that bears-and disgraces-the name of Malfoy. Christof, I believe, is his given name."
Harry could not stop himself from drawing his breath in sharply. Malfoy gave another short, cold chuckle. "It is a bit disturbing, isn't it," he drawled, "To see a best friend and a powerful ally attacked in the same short span of time, isn't it."
Harry didn't answer. His stomach was churning uncomfortably, and he was afraid that he would be sick.
"Would you like to see more?" Malfoy said smoothly, and without waiting for an answer he reached one long finger towards the globe and stroked it gently. Another image began to whirl inside it, growing larger until it filled the globe as it had before. Harry was startled to see a lone, red- haired figure sitting cross-legged on a dormitory bed when the image stopped. It was Ginny Weasley.
She was bending studiously over something in her lap, her brilliant red hair screening it from his view. What it was exactly Harry did not know, but from the feathery quill-tip protruding over her shoulder it was obvious that she was writing in it.
A moment later, the tip of the quill feather stopped moving. At that moment, she shook her hair out of her face, and Harry caught a glimpse of a small black book in her lap. Words were written in scarlet ink, and it seemed as if Ginny was reading them over.
Her hair fell back in front of the book, and Harry could no longer see it. Puzzled, he looked up at Malfoy. His captor was wearing a small smile, as if he relished what he saw.
Dread building inside him, Harry looked down at the globe once more. Ginny had now set the book aside and risen from the bed. She was walking towards the dormitory door, but instinctively Harry felt that something was wrong. There was something disturbing in the way she walke-as if she had no power over her own movement.
His dread nearly choked him as she opened the door, but to his surprise there was no yellow-eyed monster awaiting her there. Once more he looked at Malfoy, nonplussed, but nothing in the latter's demeanor gave hint to what was transpiring in the glass globe.
Now Ginny was striding along an unfamiliar corridor. Again, Harry felt that all was not right in this seemingly ordinary setting. He fully expected the great green serpent to appear as it had in the other visions, but each corner Ginny turned was free of any unexpected monsters.
Several moments later-moments which seemed to Harry interminably long-Ginny arrived at what seemed to be her destination. Harry was startled to see, hanging from a wall-sconce, what looked like the stone statue of a cat.
"A cat was Petrified-that is, turned to stone."
Who had spoken those words? When? Suddenly a silvery glimmer caught his eye. Without moving his head, he looked in the direction of the wall next to his cot, and saw a corner of Danady's Invisibilty Cloak peeping out from where he had stuffed it under the covers several weeks ago, when he was still in fear of visitors in his dungeon.
The Cloak seemed to remind him of its former owner. Danady said those words, Harry thought, feeling the sharp pain that he had not felt since before he sunk into his oblivion. It had been Danady and Isabel who'd told him about the Basilisk-the giant snake-at Hogwarts. It had been Danady who'd told Harry about the Petrification of 'a cat'-this cat, Harry was sure. If his assumptions were correct, and this was the Petrified cat, then this must have taken place long before the other two-early in the year, when Isabel and Danady were still unsuspected.
Harry turned his attention back to Ginny. His jaw slackened involuntarily- while he had been thinking about Isabel and Danady, Ginny had dipped her hand into a pool of a silvery-white substance and began to awkwardly paint words on the stone wall of the corridor.
The Chamber of Secrets Has Been Opened, she wrote laboriously. Enemies of the Heir, Beware.
It was as Danady had told him then, and the infamous Chamber of Secrets had been opened and the horror therein released. Of course, the globe could be wrong, but Harry had an uneasy feeling telling him that it was exactly right.
What confused him was Ginny's part in it. Why was she, of all inconspicous people, painting the terrifying words on the wall above where the Petrified cat hung? Was Ginny the Heir of Slytherin?
No, he remembered immediately. Danady had said one Tom Marvolo Riddle was the Heir of Slytherin-a Tom Riddle who was more commonly known as the Lord Voldemort. If so, what was Ginny doing painting Voldemort's slogan on a Hogwarts wall?
His mind twisting in circles, Harry didn't notice when the picture blinked out. He turned the globe over and over in his hands, aimlessly staring at it as if it would give him the answers he sought. He had nearly forgotten Lucius Malfoy's presence in the dungeon; his questions were too urgent and needed answers too badly to let pass.
He was startled when Malfoy made a small grunting noise, as if to remind Harry of his lordly presence. Harry turned to him, his questions still unresolved, his mind still turning round and round with no possible conclusions-or rather, no reasonable conclusions. Malfoy obviously was expecting some sort of vocal questioning, but Harry was too confused to voice his concerns.
"I suppose you would like to know what is going on then," said Malfoy eventually. His air of cool I-can-wait-all-day patience was ebbing away quickly. It was not a question, and Harry did not try to answer it. Instead, Malfoy simply stroked the globe once more.
For the third time, colors began to swirl inside the globe. When the picture resolved itself, Harry was surprised to see not a peopled scene or a slinking green monster creeping around the halls, but an open book. In once glance Harry determined that it was a diary, though it had nothing written on it.
That's the same book Ginny was writing in, Harry thought suddenly, though he could not at all explain how he knew. As if it had been prompted by his thought, a hand holding a quill descended on the page. Harry decided that this must simply be a close-up of a scene just like the others he had seen.
For a moment the quill paused and a blot of ink dropped onto the page. Harry started when he saw that the ink was slowly being drawn into the page; in a moment it had disappeared.
His attention was drawn back to the quill and the hand holding it as it began to write.
Dear Tom,
The quill hesitated for a moment, then plunged on.
Dear Tom,
I think I'm losing my memory. There are rooster feathers all over my robes and I don't know how they got there.
The words blurred for a moment, and then slowly faded into the page just as the ink blot had before them.
A moment later, to Harry's surprised, the ink came back-but now it formed new words, words that Harry was sure the hand had never written.
I see you are back, Ginny Weasley, they said.
Yes, scribbled Ginny-So it was her, Harry thought, and then turned back to the diary.
Oh, Tom, she continued, I can't remember what I did on the night of Halloween but a cat was attacked and I've got paint all down my front.
That is very disturbing, came the unhelpful reply.
What should I do? Ginny scrawled. Her writing was becoming unsteadier-she seemed to be quite agitated. Tom, whoever he was, certainly wasn't helping matters.
Tom Tom Tom Tom Tom Tom Tom, Harry thought suddenly. When did I hear that name? Tom Tom Tom Tom Tom Tom Tom Tom Tom To-
"What Arrlimon did not say is this: the Heir of Slytherin is none other than Tom Marvolo Riddle, alias Lord Voldemort." Harry gave a start-they were more words from the conversation he'd had with Isabel and Danady before they'd been discovered. Tom-could it be the same? Could this diary spirit be one and the same as the infamous Lord Voldemort, terror of the wizarding world for over twenty years?
There's something else, too, Ginny wrote. Percy keeps telling me I'm pale and I'm not myself. I think he suspects me. Oh, what can I do?
Some will always be suspicous of everyone, Tom wrote back. There is no undue cause for alarm, I'm sure.
But there was another attack today, Ginny wrote frantically. I don't know where I was. It's worse than Percy suspecting me, Tom.I think I'm going mad.I think I'm the one attacking everyone!
The picture sparkled bright white for a moment, and disappeared. Harry stared at the transparent globe, much shaken.
"I could show you more," Malfoy said. The drawl had returned to his voice, along with a note of suppressed triumph. He reached to stroke the globe, but Harry pulled it out of his reach. "No," he blurted suddenly. "I don't want to see more."
Malfoy looked shocked for a moment, but then he smiled. "I apologize," he drawled. "I should have realized these scenes of your pitiful friends might have a.negative effect on your sense of well-being."
To Harry's surprise, he spun on his heel and exited the dungeon, his long black robe swishing behind him. Harry was left with the glass seeing-globe in the darkness, alone once more.
It was dark. Very dark; Harry had not lit the candle in what he figured was the equivalent of at least two weeks. There was no reason, really, except that he was too tired to move much from the cot. He wondered at first if there had been some poisoning in on of the jars; then he realized it must just have been from the despair creeping through his all.
Beside him was the table full of jars, but he had not had occasion to use any of the ointments since before he stopped lighting the candles. Now and again, he wondered briefly why the jars had been put there at all-for his own use, or for anothers?-but soon tired from the mental strength it took to wonder.
Nothing had disturbed the dark of the dungeon cell since he had been put there by Lucius Malfoy. His meals appeared to him on a tray just beside his bed, whenever he wished for them-which was not often. Hunger seemed a thing of the past, not worth worrying about.
The spell that had bewitched him weeks before had not come back, and he was glad. For days after his headlong plunge into the large iron door of the dungeon he ached all over; not even the strange and wonderful salve that had healed his spider-bites could help much.
Often he wondered what the spell had been, why it had been, and who had inflicted it. But after a while he did not care-it didn't matter, after all. By now he knew with full certainty that he was guarded more closely than he had ever been in the bedroom-prison, that he was watched in many more ways than one.
He was now on the cot, staring up at the ceiling he could not see. A spider crawled across his hand, but he did not care; he only lay very still so that the spider would pass by. It did.
Suddenly, unexpectedly, and inexplicably, the cell flooding with light. Harry's eyelids snapped shut-he was so used to the darkness that the piercing light hurt with a very sharp pain. His hands, too, flew to his eyes to shield them from the light.
A cold laugh echoed through the stone dungeon. "I see you're surprised at the light," Lucius Malfoy drawled. "Didn't you burn the candles I sent you?"
The words, for he had not heard words in a very long time, echoed strangely through his mind.
Burn the didn't you burn the candles I burn the light the candles I sent you burn the light the candles I-
"No," said Harry. His voice was strangely croaky; when he tried to whet his lips he found his mouth to be very dry. Water. Water I need water please give me water I need-"I'd like water," he said aloud, a little more assurance in his tone.
No sooner than he had spoken than did a glass of extremely dubious-looking, brackish water appear beside him. Lucius Malfoy's lip curled, but he did not say anything for a moment.
"So," Malfoy said finally. "So."
So so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so-
"So what?" He had meant to sound defiant-instead he only croaked still more.
"So, Harry Potter, I have something to show you," said Malfoy smoothly, sneering. "Something that, no doubt, you will be happy to see."
Happy to see show you something happy to see what is it what is it show me happy to see something show me happy to see-
"Show me what?" Harry asked. This time he didn't even try to sound defiant; he realized that he had fully lost control of his vocal chords and that they would have to decide on their tone without him.
Malfoy strode over to where Harry sat on the cot. Harry stood quickly, then sank back down-weeks of not moving at all had nearly caused his joints how to stand, how to walk, how to run.
"Look at this," Malfoy sneered, and tossed a glass globe about the size of a soccer ball down to him. Smirking, he retreated into the shadowy corner and dimmed the light from the sphere he carried.
Look at this look at it look look what is it look at it look at it this what is this look at this what is look look look what is it what is look look at this look at-
Harry stared into the globe unseeingly, wondering with one corner of his mind what Malfoy could be thinking. Suddenly his eyes widened; an image had begun to form inside the ball.
What is this what is this what could it be crystal is it a crystal ball what is it does it tell the future is it a crystal a crystal ball what what what-
The image began to grow, revolving very fast. It was a person-two people-in long, black robes and tall, pointed black hats.
Who are they who who what are they who are they what are they doing who what who who who who what are they doing why are they what are they doing what who-
The image now filled the entire globe, and it came into sharp focus. Suddenly it began to move. The two figures in Hogwarts robes were both walking along a corridor-Harry recognized it as one going into the entrance hall-although they did not seem to be walking together.
The shorter figure walked slowly, drinking from a glass of clear water as she did so. Suddenly she looked towards the wall, and her face came into clear view. It was Hermione.
Harry stared at the globe hungrily. He had not realized how much he missed his friends; the sight of Hermione's familiar face was like water in the middle of a dry desert.
Hermione turned back to face forward and took another sip of water as she did so.
Suddenly the other girl flicked a wrist around as if checking the time on a wristwatch. Suddenly she quickened her pace and passed Hermione, looking distracted-as she sped up, she bumped into Hermione, knocking the glass of water out of Hermione's hand and causing it to spill all over the floor.
Hermione turned to her angrily. No sounds came from the globe, but Harry was sure from the look on Hermione's face that she was not very happy. She pointed down at the puddle of water-
Suddenly a great green shape entered the frame. An enormous snake with yellow, glowing bulbous eyes confronted the two girls, who were still looking at the puddle of water on the ground.
They both went very white-Harry supposed that the head of the great snake was reflected in the water, which was good cause to be afraid-but it didn't stop at their faces. Slowly an ashen-gray pallor crept down to their toes. Even their clothes had turned greyish white. White as-white as-Harry groped for a word.
White as marble.
"Hermione!" Harry croaked. He hadn't meant to; he regretted it now as Malfoy emerged from the shadows, smirking.
"Yes," he said drawlingly. "I do believe that Mudblood was your.friend." He spat the last word as if it were trash.
Anger welled deep inside Harry, but he was too weak to do anything about it. Instead, he looked down at the globe.
The picture of Hermione and the other girl had been replaced. Now he saw two more figures. One was a boy with dark hair, walking towards a classroom. The other was a pearly-white ghost, floating behind him-the two seemed to be talking, but Harry could not be certain.
Harry looked closer at the ghost. It was Nearly Headless Nick, the ghost of Gryffindor House.
Then Harry saw something else. The green snake had once more appeared in the frame-behind Nick. The dark-haired boy whitened as Hermione and the other girl had done. Nick simply turned to a dark grey, almost black.
A moment later, the picture blinked once and disappeared, and Harry was left holding a transparent glass globe in his hand once more.
He knew that Malfoy was simply waiting for him to ask about the black- haired boy, so he didn't. Sure enough, Malfoy made a sound of impatience and strode forward until he was towering over Harry, a twisted smile on his face.
"Uh.." Harry said finally, feeling the menace in his companion's demeanor grow with each passing moment. "Who was.he?" he asked lamely.
Malfoy gave a short, cold laugh. "I thought you might ask that. He, as you so put it, is one that bears-and disgraces-the name of Malfoy. Christof, I believe, is his given name."
Harry could not stop himself from drawing his breath in sharply. Malfoy gave another short, cold chuckle. "It is a bit disturbing, isn't it," he drawled, "To see a best friend and a powerful ally attacked in the same short span of time, isn't it."
Harry didn't answer. His stomach was churning uncomfortably, and he was afraid that he would be sick.
"Would you like to see more?" Malfoy said smoothly, and without waiting for an answer he reached one long finger towards the globe and stroked it gently. Another image began to whirl inside it, growing larger until it filled the globe as it had before. Harry was startled to see a lone, red- haired figure sitting cross-legged on a dormitory bed when the image stopped. It was Ginny Weasley.
She was bending studiously over something in her lap, her brilliant red hair screening it from his view. What it was exactly Harry did not know, but from the feathery quill-tip protruding over her shoulder it was obvious that she was writing in it.
A moment later, the tip of the quill feather stopped moving. At that moment, she shook her hair out of her face, and Harry caught a glimpse of a small black book in her lap. Words were written in scarlet ink, and it seemed as if Ginny was reading them over.
Her hair fell back in front of the book, and Harry could no longer see it. Puzzled, he looked up at Malfoy. His captor was wearing a small smile, as if he relished what he saw.
Dread building inside him, Harry looked down at the globe once more. Ginny had now set the book aside and risen from the bed. She was walking towards the dormitory door, but instinctively Harry felt that something was wrong. There was something disturbing in the way she walke-as if she had no power over her own movement.
His dread nearly choked him as she opened the door, but to his surprise there was no yellow-eyed monster awaiting her there. Once more he looked at Malfoy, nonplussed, but nothing in the latter's demeanor gave hint to what was transpiring in the glass globe.
Now Ginny was striding along an unfamiliar corridor. Again, Harry felt that all was not right in this seemingly ordinary setting. He fully expected the great green serpent to appear as it had in the other visions, but each corner Ginny turned was free of any unexpected monsters.
Several moments later-moments which seemed to Harry interminably long-Ginny arrived at what seemed to be her destination. Harry was startled to see, hanging from a wall-sconce, what looked like the stone statue of a cat.
"A cat was Petrified-that is, turned to stone."
Who had spoken those words? When? Suddenly a silvery glimmer caught his eye. Without moving his head, he looked in the direction of the wall next to his cot, and saw a corner of Danady's Invisibilty Cloak peeping out from where he had stuffed it under the covers several weeks ago, when he was still in fear of visitors in his dungeon.
The Cloak seemed to remind him of its former owner. Danady said those words, Harry thought, feeling the sharp pain that he had not felt since before he sunk into his oblivion. It had been Danady and Isabel who'd told him about the Basilisk-the giant snake-at Hogwarts. It had been Danady who'd told Harry about the Petrification of 'a cat'-this cat, Harry was sure. If his assumptions were correct, and this was the Petrified cat, then this must have taken place long before the other two-early in the year, when Isabel and Danady were still unsuspected.
Harry turned his attention back to Ginny. His jaw slackened involuntarily- while he had been thinking about Isabel and Danady, Ginny had dipped her hand into a pool of a silvery-white substance and began to awkwardly paint words on the stone wall of the corridor.
The Chamber of Secrets Has Been Opened, she wrote laboriously. Enemies of the Heir, Beware.
It was as Danady had told him then, and the infamous Chamber of Secrets had been opened and the horror therein released. Of course, the globe could be wrong, but Harry had an uneasy feeling telling him that it was exactly right.
What confused him was Ginny's part in it. Why was she, of all inconspicous people, painting the terrifying words on the wall above where the Petrified cat hung? Was Ginny the Heir of Slytherin?
No, he remembered immediately. Danady had said one Tom Marvolo Riddle was the Heir of Slytherin-a Tom Riddle who was more commonly known as the Lord Voldemort. If so, what was Ginny doing painting Voldemort's slogan on a Hogwarts wall?
His mind twisting in circles, Harry didn't notice when the picture blinked out. He turned the globe over and over in his hands, aimlessly staring at it as if it would give him the answers he sought. He had nearly forgotten Lucius Malfoy's presence in the dungeon; his questions were too urgent and needed answers too badly to let pass.
He was startled when Malfoy made a small grunting noise, as if to remind Harry of his lordly presence. Harry turned to him, his questions still unresolved, his mind still turning round and round with no possible conclusions-or rather, no reasonable conclusions. Malfoy obviously was expecting some sort of vocal questioning, but Harry was too confused to voice his concerns.
"I suppose you would like to know what is going on then," said Malfoy eventually. His air of cool I-can-wait-all-day patience was ebbing away quickly. It was not a question, and Harry did not try to answer it. Instead, Malfoy simply stroked the globe once more.
For the third time, colors began to swirl inside the globe. When the picture resolved itself, Harry was surprised to see not a peopled scene or a slinking green monster creeping around the halls, but an open book. In once glance Harry determined that it was a diary, though it had nothing written on it.
That's the same book Ginny was writing in, Harry thought suddenly, though he could not at all explain how he knew. As if it had been prompted by his thought, a hand holding a quill descended on the page. Harry decided that this must simply be a close-up of a scene just like the others he had seen.
For a moment the quill paused and a blot of ink dropped onto the page. Harry started when he saw that the ink was slowly being drawn into the page; in a moment it had disappeared.
His attention was drawn back to the quill and the hand holding it as it began to write.
Dear Tom,
The quill hesitated for a moment, then plunged on.
Dear Tom,
I think I'm losing my memory. There are rooster feathers all over my robes and I don't know how they got there.
The words blurred for a moment, and then slowly faded into the page just as the ink blot had before them.
A moment later, to Harry's surprised, the ink came back-but now it formed new words, words that Harry was sure the hand had never written.
I see you are back, Ginny Weasley, they said.
Yes, scribbled Ginny-So it was her, Harry thought, and then turned back to the diary.
Oh, Tom, she continued, I can't remember what I did on the night of Halloween but a cat was attacked and I've got paint all down my front.
That is very disturbing, came the unhelpful reply.
What should I do? Ginny scrawled. Her writing was becoming unsteadier-she seemed to be quite agitated. Tom, whoever he was, certainly wasn't helping matters.
Tom Tom Tom Tom Tom Tom Tom, Harry thought suddenly. When did I hear that name? Tom Tom Tom Tom Tom Tom Tom Tom Tom To-
"What Arrlimon did not say is this: the Heir of Slytherin is none other than Tom Marvolo Riddle, alias Lord Voldemort." Harry gave a start-they were more words from the conversation he'd had with Isabel and Danady before they'd been discovered. Tom-could it be the same? Could this diary spirit be one and the same as the infamous Lord Voldemort, terror of the wizarding world for over twenty years?
There's something else, too, Ginny wrote. Percy keeps telling me I'm pale and I'm not myself. I think he suspects me. Oh, what can I do?
Some will always be suspicous of everyone, Tom wrote back. There is no undue cause for alarm, I'm sure.
But there was another attack today, Ginny wrote frantically. I don't know where I was. It's worse than Percy suspecting me, Tom.I think I'm going mad.I think I'm the one attacking everyone!
The picture sparkled bright white for a moment, and disappeared. Harry stared at the transparent globe, much shaken.
"I could show you more," Malfoy said. The drawl had returned to his voice, along with a note of suppressed triumph. He reached to stroke the globe, but Harry pulled it out of his reach. "No," he blurted suddenly. "I don't want to see more."
Malfoy looked shocked for a moment, but then he smiled. "I apologize," he drawled. "I should have realized these scenes of your pitiful friends might have a.negative effect on your sense of well-being."
To Harry's surprise, he spun on his heel and exited the dungeon, his long black robe swishing behind him. Harry was left with the glass seeing-globe in the darkness, alone once more.