My throat was tight—it was utterly dark, and I couldn't even scream. The plunge turned into a slide, one that transported me down, down, down into what could only be the sewers of the school. There was nothing, no one, except the sound of my own breathing and of the slight clatters from unknown objects that were disturbed by my presence.
And then it was over. We were on solid ground again, because of course Ginny had followed me down the nightmarish hole. As she rose to her feet, she dusted off her robes with a mild scowl of disgust; then she waved me on.
I got to my feet without a fight, as there was not much else to do except hope that wherever we were going would be somewhere better than this dank set of pipes. For that was where we'd ended up; in a confusing labyrinth of rusted pipes and circular walls. But Ginny was walking forth, directing us with ease.
We proceeded for a few minutes until a door was reached. It looked utterly impenetrable, and was decorated in little murals depicting snakes.
So it was here, then… the Chamber of Secrets. It had been in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom the entire time—it was her that had been killed by Slytherin's monster.
Ginny spoke another piece of Parseltongue, her dark eyes fixed upon the door ahead. It began to creak open, the horrid sound of olden machinery accompanying it… and then we both proceeded into the following antechamber.
If the situation had been different, more docile, I would've been impressed by what I saw in the Chamber of Secrets. But it wasn't; I had been kidnapped, and if those words on the wall had any merit, I wasn't going to be let go anytime soon…
The foyer was full of statues presumably sculpted in the like of Salazar Slytherin; his hair had been long, his eyes almond-shaped. The statues guarded a narrow path that led in front of the largest sculpture yet, once again in the likeness of Slytherin house's founder… but there was something more sinister about this enlarged sculpture that made my blood run cold.
When we reached the far end of the chamber, life and light returned to my limbs. I gasped sharply as I was released from whatever horrid spell Ginny had put me under and whirled towards the exit.
"Don't think about trying to leave this place," said Ginny, though her voice was fainter than it had been before. "There's no way out… for someone like you."
Before I could demand answers, could ask for any sort of explanation, she laid down upon the ground, never mind the thin sheet of water that coated the floor, dampening her clothes and her hair alike. Softly, solemnly, she placed Tom Riddle's diary upon her chest and closed her eyes… and then a spurt of light began emanating from the book.
Something erupted from the diary—I yelped and shielded my eyes from the sudden glare, but the jet of light had disappeared as quickly as it had arrived. When I removed my hand from my eyes, I saw someone completely unfamiliar standing upon the soaked floor in front of where Ginny was lying.
It was a young man with sharp facial features; he was tall, with dark hair and even darker eyes, and he was wearing Slytherin robes. On his chest was pinned a Prefect badge just like Percy's own—and when he realized he was standing before me, he raised his hands and looked at them as though he'd never before realized they were there.
For a brief, tense moment, we simply stood there, each of us sizing the other up. It was this man who spoke first, with a smile coated in sugar and lies. "You should be honored to be the first to witness my rebirth, Miss Skylar."
I narrowed my eyes, immediately distrustful. So this was the one who had possessed Ginny, had forced me into the Chamber of Secrets: this was the person who wished to kill me.
"Tom Riddle," I said aloud, my tongue thick.
He nodded, though there was a flick of irritation that passed through his eyes. "So I was called in this state, yes."
"Who are you really, then?"
Tom smiled again and cocked his head sideways. "I was under the impression that you're one of the top in your class. Surely you can figure out the answer to that question on your own."
I frowned heavily and scanned his body; there was a shiny haze surrounding him, as though he wasn't completely there… I stepped forward and lunged out to grab his arm—and my hand passed straight through him.
A light scoff exited my mouth at the realization. "Some rebirth you spoke of, Tom. Looks to me like you aren't all here yet."
He laughed at this, a loud, full laugh that would've made my heart melt under any other circumstances. For some reason, he reminded me of… of… well, maybe not anyone at all, but rather the ideal of the perfect person: handsome, charming, quick-witted.
I shook my head. That sort of thinking was certainly another one of his tricks.
"I'll admit that your statement has some credence to it," lamented Riddle, who was gazing at his own hands again. "But I do not believe it will take long for the process to complete."
The word 'process' made a shiver run down my spine. My eyes fell upon Ginny, who still held the diary upon her chest… there was no doubt in my mind that there was some Dark Magic laced into the pages of that book, Dark Magic that had caused her to be possessed, to have summoned this figment of its owner into my own life.
"Why am I here?" I blurted out, my fists balling at my sides. The more I looked at this Tom Riddle, the angrier I was getting; that smooth smirk on his face, the superciliousness in his eyes. It was all so infuriating.
"Ah. Apologies—I promised to explain everything to you, didn't I?" mused Tom. He tapped a finger upon his chin as if in deep thought before taking a few leisurely steps in my direction. "You weren't originally part of my plans, you see. But after Ginny talked so willingly of you and spoke of your close friendship with Harry Potter, I simply had to meet you. In short: you're here because you are my insurance policy."
I blinked, dumbfounded. "Insurance policy?"
Tom turned away from me to face the large sculpture of Slytherin's face. Now that we stood closer to it, I could see finer details within the stonework; purposeful chips in the material, careful angles and smooth edges. "Just in case Ginny Weasley's disappearance into the Chamber wasn't enough, of course."
"The professors would've come after her even without my involvement."
"Who said anything about your precious professors?" replied Tom, with only a swift glance over his shoulder. He chuckled once and shook his head. "No… the attention I seek is far more valuable than that of Minerva McGonagall."
A sinister feeling seeped into the bottom of my stomach with these words. Even though I figured I already knew the answer, my lips still opened, and my voice still asked, "Whose attention are you seeking, then?"
Tom turned around, a mildly disappointed look in his face. But after quickly scanning my expression, he smiled again. "You had me worried for a moment, Miss Skylar. I was afraid that you weren't as smart as Ginny had talked you up to be. But I can see the fear in your eyes, the concern—yes, you do know the answer."
"Harry…"
His name escaped without me really meaning to say it. The air changed between us in the chamber at that moment, however… Riddle slowly turned around, a leer threatening to spread across his face. "Very good, Miss Skylar. Now, I wonder: can you figure out the other piece of the puzzle? I'll be quite pleased if you do in the short time we'll have together."
My jaw clenched, but I said nothing in response to such an obvious goad. He was just trying to get underneath my skin; to unnerve me and get answers about Harry before he killed me. Not on my watch.
I turned away from him and took inventory of my surroundings. There were pipes leading further into the Chamber, but by no means was I feeling the urge to explore. It was entirely possible that Slytherin's monster—the basilisk, if I had been correct—was slithering about someplace, just waiting for its next meal. It would be perfectly content and able to kill me if I wandered in the wrong direction. I didn't even have my wand.
And all of that was without considering what might happen to Ginny if I were to leave. She was still lying motionless upon the ground, just as pale as the petrified people in the hospital wing… and it seemed as though she was growing weaker with each second that passed.
My eyes fell upon the diary again. There had to be a way to sever the connection between her and Riddle. If I could only just think—
"Tell me, Miss Skylar," said Riddle very suddenly, and now his voice was no longer suave or soothing. It was sharp, jagged: pointed. "What could you possibly do to save dear Ginny Weasley now?"
I turned back to Riddle, doing everything I could to keep my expression composed. There was no feasible way for him to have known what I was thinking about unless he was literally reading my mind…
"It's called Legilimency," said Riddle, smirking. "Were we in any other set of circumstances, I would've recommended you learned it. Very useful skill."
Which meant that took away any sort of avenue I had for thinking up a plan to take down Riddle. He was able to just look at me and see into my head…
"If I'm going to die down here, I want a full explanation," I said. While I tried with all my might to keep my voice strong, there was a little quaver within it that betrayed my fear. The reality of the situation was beginning to sink in—I was alone in the Chamber of Secrets, watching my friend die before my eyes, and the Heir of Slytherin, a man who had evaded detection for fifty years, wanted to kill me.
But I didn't want to die quivering. I remembered how strong Harry had been when facing down Professor Quirrell the previous year… if I could be half as strong as he had been, then it would be a good death.
I pointed towards the book lying ever so innocently upon Ginny's chest. "I see that talisman. It's no ordinary object, is it?"
"No ordinary object indeed," agreed Riddle, seeming pleased with my statement. "You would be hard-pressed to destroy it, you know."
That was obvious enough, and doubly so since I had no wand. "But how the hell does it work? You must've been able to enchant Ginny through the diary somehow—she would've never willingly allowed you to possess her…"
Riddle's smile went thin as he regarded me. "A little piece of my memory; not much, just a piece. But enough to make me strong."
His words were cryptic, and while it did not appear that he was lying, they did not make any sense at all. A frown took over my lips, frustrated as I was by the mediocre-grade answers. But… there was something else bothering me, another question that would almost certainly wield a direct answer. "Why him? What do you want with Harry?"
This particular question made Riddle laugh again. His eyes gleaming, he took a step towards me and reached out—I raised an eyebrow, expecting his hand to pass through my skin the way it had when I'd tested whether he was real or figment earlier… and much to my shock and alarm, when he reached out to brush aside a piece of my red hair, I could feel his touch.
"You still haven't figured it out?" he said, almost like he would a pout. "A shame. It would've been beautiful if you had."
I lunged away from him, pushing my hair back behind my shoulders, as if that simple gesture would prevent him from touching me again. There was something so very dark surrounding his person now, a darkness I had no name for.
The next smile that he decided to grace me with was pointed like a cat's. "You'll have to forgive me, Miss Skylar. Ginny Weasley's life force may not be sufficient enough to return me to my former state. I may have to take from yours instead… contrary to what you may believe, I truly did wish to avoid having to kill you. A perfectly good waste of near-perfect blood."
Before I could hiss at him or bare my teeth, he reached out towards me again. I knocked his hand away, but such futility only served to amuse him; Riddle chuckled and cocked his head sideways. "Like it or not, Belle… you have nowhere to go."
A great rumbling shook the entire cavern, causing streams of dust to litter our hair. I shielded my eyes and glanced upwards, daring to hope that it could mean what I thought it meant: that the professors had actually located the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets and were on their way…
Then I remembered what Riddle had said earlier: there's no way out… for someone like you.
Ginny—no, Riddle—had used Parseltongue to approach this place. If that meant the only person able to enter the Chamber was a Parselmouth, then…
"Harry," I said again, my voice hoarse.
I began to stumble towards the exit of the chamber, but like they had while I was underneath that spell, my feet turned to blocks of lead. I yelped, tripping over myself, and hit the floor hard—some of the water splashed up into my face, drenching my clothes and my long hair.
But my friend was walking right into a deadly snare, and he needed to know about it. Tom Riddle wasn't just inviting him to tea, he was using me as bait.
"Harry!" I shouted, as loudly as I possibly could. "Harry, no! It's a trap!"
The strangest amalgamation had settled upon my shoulders. Until that moment where the dust had rained down from the ceiling, I hadn't been sure that Harry would come at all. We had just argued—or something reminiscent to that anyway—the previous night; he blamed me for what happened to Hermione.
A tiny part of me had expected him to leave me…
Footsteps sloshing through water revealed that Riddle was heading in my direction. Even though my heartbeat was crashing against my skull, my breathing was labored, I tried to pull myself closer to the exit, even if I was crawling on all four of my limbs—
"Come now, Miss Skylar," sighed Riddle, as though he were bored, "let's wait patiently for Harry to arrive."
He reached out and plucked me off of the floor as though I was a sack of flour, carrying me back over to where Ginny was lying. I was kicking and screaming as best as I could the entire while, but each second that passed had me fighting harder and harder just to stay awake.
"Down!" I gasped, hissing through my teeth. "Put me down!"
Riddle just laughed and continued forward.
I was set unceremoniously down to the ground beside Ginny; try though I might to rise to my feet, that fatiguing fog was fully upon me. I didn't have the strength to stand… I hardly even had the strength to sit up straight.
I contented myself to kneeling, even if I couldn't keep my head fully upright. It would be enough—it had to be enough…
Ginny Weasley's life force may not be sufficient enough to return me to my former state. I may have to take from yours instead, Riddle had said.
A few more minutes passed; or it may have been longer. It did not take long for my concept of time to be warped, for all of my limbs were as thick as molasses, and my train of thought was processing just as quickly as the same sweet. Each beat of my heart was another thud against my already wearied skull…
And then, there was the spine-chilling sound of stone grinding against stone. On the opposite end of the Chamber, the door began creaking open.
"Belle!"
My heart leapt to my throat. With the remainder of the strength I yet possessed, I inhaled deeply and cried, "Harry!"
Harry sprinted across the narrow pathway, water splashing upon the hem of his robe as he drew nearer and nearer. My vision was blurry, but I was able to see him draw close; and then he slid to his knees in front of me, his wand clattering to the ground as he propped me up within his arms.
"What happened?" he whispered. One of his hands found my face; it was cold… so cold. "Are you all right? Is Ginny…"
"Alive," I replied, but my mouth was dry and it was hard to speak, to do anything at all. "You… you have to go. Harry…"
Harry scoffed lightly and held me closer. I could see the fear within the wells of his green eyes as he replied, "I'm not leaving without you."
"Harry Potter," said Riddle's voice.
"Tom… Tom Riddle?" asked Harry incredulously.
Each of their eyes lingered upon the other, inspecting, searching. Perhaps for some sort of weakness.
Stars were wheeling past my eyes, but I wasn't going to fall unconscious in this damned chamber. Not like that—not like this. "Harry… it's a trap. Riddle doesn't want me. He wants you."
And finally, Harry seemed to understand. His gaze hardened as he looked up, only to find that Riddle had taken his wand off of the floor. Teeth clenched, Harry said, "Give me my wand, Tom."
"You won't be needing it," replied Riddle. "I've waited a long time for this, Harry Potter. For the chance to see you; to speak to you."
Harry didn't seem to reciprocate the sentiment. Anger barely concealed in his tone, he asked, "How did Ginny and Belle end up like this?"
"Well, that's an interesting question, and quite a long story," mused Riddle with a dramatic sigh. His dark eyes flickered back to me; he proffered another sickly-sweet smile. "I did promise Miss Skylar the whole story in return for her part in escorting you down here, however. And so: I suppose the real reason Ginny Weasley is like this is because she opened her heart and spilled all her secrets to an invisible stranger. You see, little Ginny's been writing in my diary for months and months, telling me all her pitiful worries and woes: how her brothers tease her, how she had to come to school with secondhand robes and books, how she wanted to be more like Belle Skylar… and how she didn't think famous, good, great Harry Potter would ever look at her the way he looked at Belle."
Harry looked back to me, concern etched deeply into the lines of his face. He placed a hand against my forehead—and though he meant well, his touch was so cold that I couldn't help but flinch.
"It's very boring, having to listen to the silly little troubles of an eleven-year-old girl. But I was patient. I wrote back. I was sympathetic, I was kind. Ginny simply loved me. No one's ever understood me like you, Tom… I'm so glad I've got this diary to confide in… It's like having a friend I can carry around in my pocket."
Riddle laughed; a shrill, cold sound that made a familiar sensation of dread coat my entire body. "If I say it myself, I've always been able to charm the people I needed. So Ginny poured out her soul to me, and her soul happened to be exactly what I wanted. I grew stronger and stronger on a diet of her deepest fears, her darkest secrets. I grew powerful, far more powerful than little Miss Weasley. Powerful enough to start feeding her a few of my secrets, to start pouring a little of my soul back into her…"
His words were swirling throughout my head, clouding my already fuzzy mind. Harry squeezed my hand tightly—so tight it would've hurt under normal circumstances, but right now, it kept me awake. It kept me aware of the certainty that I could not close my eyes.
"It took a very long time for stupid little Ginny to stop trusting her diary. But she finally became suspicious and tried to dispose of it. And that's where you came in, Harry. You found it, and I couldn't have been more delighted. Of all the people who could have picked it up, it was you, the very person I was most anxious to meet."
"And why did you want to meet me?" asked Harry. Tom still held Harry's wand in his hands…
"Well, you see, Ginny told me all about you, Harry. Your whole fascinating history. I knew I must find out more about you, talk to you, meet you if I could. So I decided to show you my famous capture of that great oaf, Hagrid, to gain your trust."
Harry snarled. "Hagrid's my friend! And you framed him, didn't you? I thought you made a mistake, but—"
Riddle laughed again, that same shrill noise as before. "It was my word against Hagrid's. You can imagine how it looked to old Armando Dippet. On the one hand, Tom Riddle, poor but brilliant, parentless but so brave, school prefect, model student… on the other, big, blundering Hagrid, in trouble every other week, trying to raise werewolf cubs under his bed, sneaking off to the Forbidden Forest to wrestle trolls… but I admit, even I was surprised how well the plan worked."
Tom Riddle's voice was soft during his little explanation, but as he spoke it grew louder and louder; unbearably loud, so loud it started to hurt—Harry noticed the grimace on my face and squeezed my hand again.
"I knew you would go to any lengths to solve this mystery, Harry Potter, particularly if one of your best friends was attacked… particularly if I were to claim one of them for myself. And now that you're here, I have many questions for you."
"Like what?" spat Harry, though his voice sounded a million leagues away.
And yet… Riddle was so very involved with his conversation with Harry, that he was neglecting me. A mild flush of warmth returned to my legs, my arms; I could curl my fingers. It wasn't such a fight to keep my eyes open anymore, and I was even able to direct them Riddle's way as he began speaking again.
"How is it that you—a skinny boy with no extraordinary magical talent—managed to defeat the greatest wizard of all time? How did you escape with nothing but a scar, while Lord Voldemort's powers were destroyed?"
The snarl on Riddle's face, the dark energy I'd felt around him, the Dark Magic—and then it all made sense. I knew what this was; who he was.
"Harry, run!" I yelled, jerking upwards. I scrabbled forward, placing myself between my best friend and this figment of Tom Riddle's memory, desperate to keep it at bay. "Go, now!"
"I'm glad you finally put together the mystery, Miss Skylar," murmured Tom, almost comfortingly. "I knew you would. But it is much too late for Harry to leave us now. It was too late the moment he stepped into this chamber."
Riddle smiled, a cold and unfeeling gesture, before turning away and utilizing Harry's wand to spell his full name in the air, the letters made of fire: Tom Marvolo Riddle. He waved the wand, and then the words were rearranged.
I am Lord Voldemort.
