In the dorm room, Dudley sat on the bed and opened the diary. To his disappointment, it was empty. He was just about to toss it aside when he noticed there was a name written on the inside cover. Tom M. Riddle.

"Riddle … Tom Riddle … Voldemort!" he shouted. "Dean, Ron, come here!"

"What's up, Dud?" Dean asked.

"Hang on," Dudley got off his bed and walked over to Seamus's bed where the Irish wizard was reading a quidditch magazine.

"Out!" Dudley ordered.

"No!" Seamus said, leaping to his feet.

"What?"

"I said, no! You've been pushing me around too much. You're not kicking me around any more. I'm ready for bed, and I'm not going anywhere."

"You'll do what I say or …"

"Or what?" Seamus demanded. "Going to hit me again? Do it! I don't care."

"Locomotor mortis."

Seamus cried out as his legs snapped together and he fell on the floor.

"Release me! You big, fat, bullying waste …"

"Scourgify!" Dudley snarled and Seamus started spluttering as soap started to fill his mouth.

"Dud, come on," Dean said.

"Yeah, that's enough," Ron agreed.

Dudley lowered his wand. "He should have just got out, we've got important stuff to talk about and I don't want him listening."

Not lifting the curse, Dudley grabbed Seamus' pajamas and hurled him up. He half dragged half carried Seamus to the door and tossed him out into the corridor.

Dean was frowning.

"I'll let him back in after we're finished," Dudley promised. "But this is serious."

He grabbed the diary and opened the cover. "Look—Tom Riddle."

"Crumbs," said Dean.

"No way, you don't think …" Ron said.

"Who else?" Dudley said. "Dumbledore said Tom Riddle was Voldemort's real name

Ron, cautiously flicked through the pages. "It's empty though."

"Yeah, but it's You-Know-Who," said Dean. "I bet he knows ways to keep it secret."

Dean suddenly looked thoughtful. "Hey, now, hang on a minute—you don't think Riddle opened the Chamber last time, do you?"

Ron looked impressed. "I wouldn't put it past him. You-Know-Who being Slytherin's heir makes sense."

"But when was Riddle at the school, did Dumbledore say?"

Dudley shook his head. "He just said it was a long time ago."

"Even if we knew when Riddle was here, it wouldn't help because we don't know when the chamber was first opened," Dean said.

"We need Hermione," Ron said, not for the first time. Reluctantly, Dudley agreed. She was smarter than the lot of them together, but she was still in the hospital wing.

Not having any more they could do with the diary, Dudley tossed it into his trunk and locked it.

Hermione was still in the hospital even towards the middle of January when the quidditch match between Slytherin and Hufflepuff was due to take place.

After Malfoy's apparent improvement in dueling, Dudley had urged the other two to restart the practice club from last year. They didn't have a huge amount of time—Oliver Wood was booking as many training sessions as possible, so Ron wasn't always available. When they had the time however, the three gathered at their usual spot to practice.

"We've got to stay ahead of Malfoy," Dudley insisted. The first weekend they practiced Incarcerous, a simple spell to bind the opponent with ropes but very useful. Dudley demanded they practice something more aggressive at their next session, so they tried a more advanced spell which Dudley found called the Conjunctivitis Curse. Unfortunately, this spell proved too advanced for the three. Dean managed to make Dudley's eyes water and Dudley's own made one's eyes swell up for a few seconds before the effect dissipated.

Dudley was still struggling with his classes, and he didn't seem to be the only one. He noticed that both Ginny and Luna—who still often visited Gryffindor Tower—didn't seem to be their usual selves. In the past, they had been chattering away or exploring the castle together. Now, they often just stayed in the dorm room, studying. Ginny wasn't as cheerful, inquisitive or annoying as she was, and Dudley hadn't heard Luna mention Crumple-Horned Snorkacks for close to a month. They still greeted him, Dean and Ron whenever they passed in the corridors or the dorm, but weren't as chatty as usual.

As for Colin Creevey, Dudley barely even saw him. As soon as he had woke up, he left and remained out of the way doing who knows what in who knows where until curfew. Dudley supposed he was still terrified of getting another beating.

The morning of the quidditch match was a clear day. Ron had lamented that Gryffindor weren't playing as, despite it being the end of Jauary, the skies were clear and the weather was fine. It was perfect flying conditions were it not for the cold.

The trio were cheering for Hufflepuff, though half-heartedly. Dudley hated the Hufflepuffs but he hated Slytherin more. And, as Ron pointed out, Gryffindor stood a small chance of winning the House Cup if Slytherin lost.

It didn't look like that was going to happen. As much as Dudley hated the Slytherins, they flew well. Their chasers were making mincemeat of the Hufflepuffs and Derrick and Bole were dominating with their accurate bludger work. Derrick got an especially loud cheer from the rest of his house with a well-aimed bludger which broke Cadwallader's nose.

Hufflepuff's only real success came from their seeker, Cedric Diggory who was a very handsome boy and an excellent flyer. Dudley, Ron and Dean had laughed loudly when Cedric tricked Malfoy into a dive which ended up with him hitting the ground hard. "A Wronski Feint," Ron had called it, impressed.

Despite Cedric's own skills, it was looking likely that even if he caught the snitch, Slytherin would win. The Hufflepuffs had only scored twice, and were now tailing 20-140.

Dudley watched, hating Malfoy as the Slytherins scored yet another goal, courtesy of Marcus Flint. Oh he wanted to pay him back for the spell which had forced his teeth to grow.

He put his hand into his pockets and frowned as he felt something there. Pulling it out, it was the voodoo doll. He hadn't worn these robes since he had agreed to get rid of it and had forgotten all about the thing. And here it was.

Dean and Ron were engrossed in the match—cheering as the Hufflepuff goalkeeper pulled off a very good save with the tips of his fingers.

What would be the harm? Just one poke to sabotage Malfoy.

Suddenly, Malfoy went into a dive with Diggory alongside him. Both seemed to have spotted the snitch hovering near the Slytherin goal at the same time.

This was it. Almost without thinking, Dudley grabbed a pin and staring at Draco, jabbed it into the doll.

Draco screamed, his hands shooting to his chest as he fell sideways off of his broom from 20 feet in the air.

He slowed near the ground but still landed with a thud—Dumbledore, Dudley saw, had his wand raised and had cast some sort of spell.

Diggory had caught the snitch but wasn't celebrating—he looked puzzled. Snape and Dumbledore were hurrying onto the pitch. Now, Snape was casting some sort of charm.

"What happened?" Ron asked. "He just fell."

Dudley just gaped. He hadn't meant for this to happen. He had just wanted to hurt Malfoy enough so he missed the snitch.

He looked down at the doll and saw with horror that he had used one of the black pins.