The magical staircase dropped Harry off in front of a large oak door. Shaking with trepidation, Harry raised a hand to knock, but stopped at the sound of voices on the other side. It sounded like there was an argument of sort. Unable to help himself, Harry pressed an ear to the door, and felt his eyes widen when he heard the voice of Professor Jackson.
"…Can't go on for much longer, Dumbledore. If there's another attack, there will be calls for blood."
"I'm aware, Perseus." Dumbledore said calmly, "How close are you?"
"Not very. All I've been able to figured out is that whatever this thing is, it's using the plumbing." Professor Jackson was sounding very irritated.
"What makes you say that?" Dumbledore was asking,
"The water. Think of the two attacks, there was water on the floor both times, right? And both attacks took place near bathrooms. It could be coincidence, but you and I have seen enough to know there's no such thing. It's the only thing that makes sense." Professor Jackson explained, and Harry felt his eyes widen.
"Do you believe you can track it?" Dumbledore asked,
"Not sure. I can try. But it'll be a tall order. This castle has an enormous plumbing system. But it would certainly be worth a look. What is that noise?" He was asking, as a loud whistling noise began filling the room.
"Oh dear," Dumbledore murmured, and then sighed, "There has been, another attack."
Something inside slammed, and Harry got the impression that Professor Jackson had thrown something, and then said something that Harry was sure was a curse in a language he didn't understand.
"Perseus, please." Dumbledore was pleading, "Please try and calm down,"
Harry could hear Professor Jackson panting, "Who was it this time?" he asked,
"Young Justin Finch-Fletchley" and Professor Jackson swore.
"If only I had my sword," Professor Jackson grumbled, and Harry felt his eyebrows shoot to his hairline. Why did Professor Jackson have a sword? Was that something they used in the American Military?
"Where is it? Would it be possible for you-"
"No!" Professor Jackson said harshly, cutting across Dumbledore, then his tone became much more subdued, "It's in New York, where it needs to stay. It has to be there when…when…If something happens. If I grab it and it's not there when…" Professor Jackson sighed, "It just has to stay where it is."
"Ah, yes, my apologies I had not realized," Dumbledore was apologizing,
"We need to get a handle on this. Dumbledore." Professor Jackson said, his tone fierce, "End of term is next week. I'm going to find this thing, and kill it."
"Perseus, you were just saying that you don't know what we're dealing with yet. Isn't charging headlong into trouble without knowing what you're getting into exactly what got you into this situation in the first place?"
There was a pregnant silence,
"Low blow, Dumbledore, low blow," Professor Jackson was saying, his voice so soft and so defeated, Harry thought the man might have been on the verge of tears.
Harry's face scrunched in concentration. Maybe Harry had been right all along. Maybe Professor Jackson was a wanted criminal. Maybe he really was on the run, and Dumbledore was sheltering him here at the castle. Was his name even Percy Jackson? Did he release the monster that was petrifying students? Was the Chamber of Secrets just an elaborate hoax to throw everyone off the trail of the fact that Professor Jackson had let loose some kind of killing machine?
But that couldn't be right, Professor Jackson had been nothing but kind, helpful, and all around arguably the best teacher Harry ever had. There was no way that he could be responsible for the attacks, but there was something else going on. There was much, much more to Professor Jackson than Harry had even imagined.
Harry shook his head, and listened more carefully, as Dumbledore began speaking again,
"My apologies, Perseus, I do not mean to be unnecessarily harsh. But you must think, if you act rashly before you know what you're getting into, then you could be killed or worse. What use will you be to the students if you're petrified, or dead."
"I need to do some research, can you handle the cleanup without me?" Professor Jackson asked,
"Naturally," Dumbledore said, "But try not to shirk your teaching responsibilities too much, Perseus."
Professor Jackson snorted, but didn't respond. Harry quickly backed away, and just in time, as almost as soon as Harry got his cheek off of the door, it swung open and Harry found himself staring into the shocked face of Professor Jackson. Even though he'd been face to face with the man only the day before, Harry felt like he was seeing the man truly for only the first time.
He had deep, dark circles under his eyes, his hands were shaking slightly, and there was a manic gleam to his eyes, that Harry thought he might have been prepared to run at the first loud sound that he heard.
"Harry?" Professor Jackson asked, "What the hades are you doing here?"
Again with the weird curses, something Harry filed away to discuss with his friends for later. Harry tried to think about what he wanted to say, but was saved the trouble by Dumbledore, who said,
"He's here to see me, Perseus,"
Professor Jackson looked back at Dumbledore then looked down at Harry, and then his eyes widened as comprehension dawned on him.
"Dammit kid," Professor Jackson sighed, as he rubbed tiredly at his face, "You might just have worse luck than I do."
"I, erm, suppose so, sir." Harry admitted nervously. Professor Jackson clapped him on the shoulder, and gave him a reassuring look that didn't quite meet his eyes, and moved out of the way so Harry could shuffle past. Professor Jackson closed the door behind him, leaving Harry alone with Professor Dumbledore.
He glanced around the room. Harry had been in many offices in his brief time at Hogwarts, but none of them were quite like Dumbledore's office. There were all manner of interesting silver instruments sitting on tables around the room, many of which were emitting interesting and high-pitched sounds. Behind Dumbledore's large desk was an enormous wall where all of the former headmasters of the school were dozing softly in several large portraits. Next to Dumbledore's desk, was the most fascinating bird Harry had ever seen in his entire life. Large and imposing, it had a beautiful coat of red, and gold feathers, and a large, ornate beak. However, before Harry could take another step into the office, the bird erupted into flames, and disintegrated in a flash of ashes.
Harry could only stare in awe and horror at what he just witnessed. His mouth worked wordlessly. He turned to look helplessly at Dumbledore, who was just looking at the perch, where his bird had just burst into flames in amusement.
"About time." He said casually, "He's been looking dreadful for days now. Shame, Harry, that you had to see him on burning day. Fawkes is usually quite the splendid sight."
"Sir?" Harry asked, unsure, but Dumbledore just chuckled,
"Fawkes, is a phoenix Harry. When they die, they burst into flames." Dumbledore rose from behind the desk, and approached the large perch, gazing expectantly at the ashes. He gestured for Harry to approach and he did apprehensively.
"But, when they die, they are reborn from the ashes," There was a small squeak, and Harry watched in amazement as a small, featherless animal, that looked distinctly like a small chicken poked its way out of the ashes.
"Fascinating creatures, Phoenix's." Dumbledore was saying, "They can carry immensely heavy burdens, and their tears can cure almost any mortal wound. That's not to mention their immense loyalty, and incredible intelligence." He stroked the bald head of the newborn Phoenix fondly, as he reached into the ashes and lifted the small creature to place him upon the top of the perch.
With one last fond look at his Phoenix, Dumbledore swept back behind his desk, but before he could say another word the door to the office flew open and Hagrid burst into the room,
"It wasn' Harry, Professor Dumbledore!" said Hagrid urgently. "I was talkin' ter him seconds before that kid was found, he never had time, sir-" Dumbledore tried to say something, but Hagrid went ranting on, waving the rooster clutched in his enormous mitt in his agitation, sending feathers everywhere. "-it can't've bin him, I'll swear it in front o' the Ministry o' Magic if I have to -"
"Hagrid, I-"
" -yeh've got the wrong boy, sir, I know Harry never-"
"Hagrid!" said Dumbledore loudly. "I do not think that Harry attacked those people."
"Oh," said Hagrid, the rooster falling limply at his side. "Right. I'll er, I'll just wait outside then, Headmaster." And he stomped out looking embarrassed.
Harry felt a swell of affection for Hagrid as he watched the large man exit the room. He could always count on the man to have Harry's back no matter the circumstances. Then what Dumbledore had said finally registered with him,
"You don't think it was me, Professor?" Harry repeated hopefully as Dumbledore brushed rooster feathers off his desk.
"No, Harry, I don't," said Dumbledore, though his face was somber again. "But I still want to talk to you."
Harry waited nervously while Dumbledore considered him, the tips of his long fingers together. "I must ask you, Harry, whether there is anything you'd like to tell me," he said gently. "Anything at all."
Harry didn't know what to say. He thought of Malfoy shouting, "You'll be next, Mudbloods!" and of the Polyjuice Potion simmering away in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. Then he thought of the disembodied voice he had heard twice and remembered what Ron had said: "Hearing voices no one else can hear isn't a good sign, even in the wizarding world " He thought, too, about what everyone was saying about him, and his growing dread that he was somehow connected with Salazar Slytherin. Finally, he thought of Professor Jackson, about his monster of a dog he kept as a pet, and how everything he learned about the man, left more questions than answers…
"No," said Harry. "There isn't anything, Professor..."
BREAK
Things did not improve for Harry as the end of term rapidly arrived. People were avoiding him in the halls, and were muttering and pointing at him, others outright tried to hex or curse him. Fred and George had taken it upon themselves to follow Harry around the school when they could, acting as his pseudo bodyguards. It had meant a lot to him, that they cared so much for his well-being like that. When the twins weren't able to be there though, Harry had taken to donning the invisibility cloak, which he began carrying with him in his bag at all times. Ron or Hermione would act as his lookout, and wait for him to don it, before escorting him to class.
The end of term soon arrived, and with it came the departure of the majority of the castle, as the most students left to visit their families for the holidays. Harry, Hermione, Ron along with the rest of the Weasley's had stayed behind at the castle for the holidays. They had been in luck, as not only had Malfoy apparently decided to stay for the Holidays, but so too had his friends Crabbe and Goyle. Which was perfect, because for their plan to plug Malfoy for information about the Chamber of Secrets, Harry, Ron and Hermione had decided they should use Crabbe and Goyle.
Earlier that morning, Hermione had told Harry and Ron in an excited whisper, that the potion was ready for use, and all Harry and Ron needed for its completion, was a piece of hair from Crabbe and Goyle. They decided that they would put their plan into action after the holiday feast that evening.
The Great Hall was certainly a sight to behold. Not only were there a dozen frost-covered Christmas trees and thick streamers of holly and mistletoe crisscrossing the ceiling, but enchanted snow was falling, warm and dry, from the ceiling. After Dumbledore led them through a chorus of holiday related tunes, Harry and the others dug into a fabulous feast, enjoying as an animated Professor Jackson finished up telling a rather amusing story.
"…and so we get there and Clarisse is trying to fend the thing off right," He said, laughing around his goblet, "And what do we see? We see Grover, in a wedding dress, the worst fake eyeball taped to his head, talking to the Cyclops, I kid you not, and the Cyclops goes, "That's no satyr, that's my wife!" Fred and George howled with laughter, as Ron sloshed pumpkin juice down his front. Even Professor Dumbledore was chuckling in amusement.
"Professor Jackson," Tracy Davis asked, she and her friend Daphne had also apparently decided to stay for the holidays. Professor Jackson wiped a tear from his eye and turned to the small girl, smiling,
"Yes, Tracy?"
Tracy shifted uncomfortably, "Um, I was just wondering sir, why did you choose to stay in England for the holidays? Didn't you want to go back to the United States? See some family?"
Something flashed in Professor Jackson's face, and for a moment he looked like someone had just told him his dog had died. But the expression was brief, and the smile returned quickly,
"Ah no," he said uncomfortably, shifting in his place, "No I don't really have any family left in the United States. Mom-" He looked choked up for a moment, but swallowed through it, "I lost mom a number of years ago. And Dad was lost at sea when I was a kid."
"Oh…" Tracy said, flushing in embarrassment, "I'm so sorry Professor, I didn't mean to-" But Professor Jackson just waved off her concern,
"It's all right Tracy," he said, though his smile was no longer a natural one, "No way for you to have known. I have some friends left in the States, but…" He looked around the Great Hall, a melancholic and slightly pinched expression on his face, "But Hogwarts is my home now. Need to leave the past in the past, and start making…new memories." With that he raised his goblet and set about proposing a toast, "To Hogwarts, and happy memories" he said, and several glasses clinked together as the table enthusiastically shared in the toast.
Professor Jackson downed the rest of his drink in one gulp, wiped at his chin, and shared a look with Dumbledore. Pushing away from his seat, he rose to his feet,
"Well, I don't know about you kids," He said, giving an overly exaggerated stretch and a groan. "But it is getting to be way past my bedtime. I think I'll head off to bed. Happy Holidays, everyone" And before anyone could say another word. He left at a brisk pace from the table. Harry watched him leave, and as he turned back to his food, he caught a glimpse of Daphne consoling Tracy, who looked extremely guilty, as though she were about to start crying.
Harry shared a look with Ron and Hermione, he had told both of them about the exchange that he'd overhead at Dumbledore's office. Perhaps whatever caused him to lose his mother had been what had driven him to Hogwarts.
As the feast drew closer to an end, Harry and Ron kipped off and stowed away in a nearby broom cupboard. Their plan involved drugging a pair of cakes with sleeping droughts and waiting for Crabbe and Goyle to consume them. The plan, to their unbelievable surprise, worked. With incredible difficulty they hid Crabbe and Goyle's considerable bulk in the broom closet Harry and Ron and hidden away in. Stole a pair of their hairs, as well as their shoes before scurrying off to Myrtles bathroom.
However, when they'd tried to mix the potion, something had gone wrong with Hermione's. She had been meant to transform into Millicent Bulstrode, but whatever she had turned into, had been so bad that she had refused to leave her bathroom stall. Leaving Harry and Ron, disguised as Crabbe and Goyle, to try and find the Slytherin Common Room on their own. Luck, as it turned out, was on their side. By complete happenstance, they managed to run into the boy they were looking for and after a brief run-in with Percy Weasley, they found themselves in the Slytherin Common Room.
Malfoy disappeared into his dormitory to grab something, leaving Harry and Ron to plop themselves down on a lush sofa. They weren't alone, hunched in the corner, talking in hushed whispers, were Daphne and Tracy. Tracy looked like she had been crying, apparently she had gotten over driving Professor Jackson from dinner.
Malfoy came back a minute later, holding what looked like a newspaper clipping. He thrust it under Ron's nose. "That'll give you a laugh," he said. Harry saw Ron's eyes widen in shock. He read the clipping quickly, gave a very forced laugh, and handed it to Harry. It had been clipped out of the Daily Prophet, which had a story about an inquiry into Arthur Weasley about his flying car. While Harry and Ron had held true to Professor Jackson's advice on sending an apology letter, which had been VERY well received by Molly Weasley, a swell of guilt built up in Harry's stomach. Mr. Weasley would not be facing that inquiry if not for him and Ron. Knowing that if things continued, Ron might attack Malfoy Harry began prodding Malfoy in the direction of the Chamber.
"Saint Potter, the Mudbloods' friend," said Malfoy slowly. "He's another one with no proper wizard feeling, or he wouldn't go around with that jumped-up Granger Mudblood. And people think he's Slytherin's heir!"
Harry and Ron waited with bated breath: Malfoy was surely seconds away from telling them it was him-but then, their hopes were dashed, "I wish I knew who it is," said Malfoy petulantly. "I could help them."
Ron's jaw dropped so that Crabbe looked even more clueless than usual. Fortunately, Malfoy didn't notice, and Harry, thinking fast, said,
"You must have some idea who's behind it all…"
"You know I haven't, Goyle, how many times do I have to tell you?" snapped Malfoy. "And Father won't tell me anything about the last time the Chamber was opened either. Of course, it was fifty years ago, so it was before his time, but he knows all about it, and he says that it was all kept quiet and it'll look suspicious if I know too much about it. But I know one thing-last time the Chamber of Secrets was opened, a Mudblood died. So I bet it's a matter of time before one of them's killed this time….I hope it's Granger," he said with relish, then after a moments thought he added, "Or Jackson,"
At that, Daphne and Tracy's heads snapped in their direction, and they began listening attentively,
Malfoy's face contorted into an ugly looking snarl, "I don't know who that bastard thinks he is," he snarled, "I wrote to father about him, told him about the humiliation he's forced upon me, but father couldn't do anything. Apparently, he's too well connected, which doesn't make sense since he's a Mudblood too. Father couldn't get much about the bastard, but did you know he only had two years of schooling?"
"Huh?" Harry grunted, trying his best to adopt Goyle's dullest expression, missing the way Daphne was watching him intently,
"That's right, he's barely got an education, some nonsense about homeschooling apparently." Malfoy prattled,
But before the discussion could go any further, both Harry and Ron had to leave, their time was up and the potion was beginning to reverse. Both missed the knowing look, Daphne shot to Tracy as they raced out of the Slytherin Common Room. They'd barely made it back to the bathroom by the time the potion ran out.
"That," Ron panted, "Was a complete and utter waste of time."
"Not necessarily," Harry said, slipping out of Goyle's oversized boots, "We know that Malfoy isn't the heir, and we know that he doesn't know anything."
"Which leaves us with nothing," Ron groaned in annoyance, before calling out for Hermione, who, when she finally re-emerged, appeared looking far more like a cat, than a human. Apparently, the hair she got had not belonged to Millicent Bulstrode, but to her cat.
Harry and Ron were walking back to the Common Room, after dropping Hermione off at the Hospital Wing, and giving the nurse an absurd story about a mismanaged attempt at transfiguration.
They were just passing by Myrtle's bathroom when Ron abruptly pushed Harry to the side, Harry was about to say something when Ron shushed him and pointed, his eyes wide and terrified. There, kneeling in front of the entrance to Myrtle's bathroom was Professor Jackson. He had one hand on the ground, and seemed almost like he was looking for something. He looked up from the ground, and looked at the entrance to the toilets. Squaring his shoulders he drew his wand and pushed into the bathroom, wand raised high.
The door closed behind him with a click.
"What the hell was that?" Ron asked, looking terrified, "Do you think he knows?" He asked, looking panicked, "Do you think he knows what we've been up to?"
"I don't think so…" Harry said slowly, watching the door closely, "Remember what I said about him and Dumbledore, he's looking for the monster, and he thinks it has something to do with the plumbing."
"Yeah but Moaning Myrtle's bathroom? You're joking," Ron said, but right at that moment, the door to the bathroom burst open, and Professor Jackson came out at a dead sprint. Skidding along the floor, he tore off in the other direction from Ron and Harry, running faster than Harry could have sworn was possible.
"Whaddya reckon?" Ron asked, "Should we follow him?"
"I don't think we could if we wanted to," Harry said softly, the echo of Professor Jackson's footsteps finally disappeared in the distance.
Ron and Harry stepped out from their hiding place, watching where their professor had disappeared to.
"He's got to be off to Professor Dumbledore," Harry said,
"Yeah, but with what?" Ron asked incredulously,
"He can't honestly think that the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets is in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom."
BREAK
Hermione was still in the Hospital Wing at the start of the new term. Harry and Ron had shared what they'd seen with Hermione but she hadn't had any more to contribute to their conversation than they had, but she had made mention about a book in the library she'd seen about dangerous magical creatures, and that she'd look at when she was out of the Hospital.
Harry and Ron left leaving the hospital late one night, a week into the beginning of the term. In spite of having the excuse of being turned into a cat, Hermione had insisted on Harry and Ron gathering all her homework and delivering it to her at the end of each day. They were technically running the gamut on being out past curfew, but Harry and Ron had been out of bounds late at night not to be too considered over the matter.
They had been just turning down a corridor on the second floor when the distinct yelling off Argus Filch reached their ears,
"…even more work for me! Mopping all night, like I haven't got enough to do! No, this is the final straw, I'm going to Dumbledore"
Sharing a look with Ron, the pair decided to investigate, before finding themselves in the corridor where Mrs. Norris had been attacked.
Like the night she'd been petrified, the floor of the corridor was flooded with water, only it was much worse. The water was running so high, that it was threatening to spill into Harry's shoes. Unable to help themselves, the boys followed the flood of water, until they found themselves outside the door to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. They could hear the distinct sound of Myrtle wailing inside.
"Now what's up with her?" said Ron.
"Let's go and see," said Harry,
Holding their robes over their knees so they weren't dragging in the water, they waded their way into the bathroom. Myrtle was crying, if possible, louder and harder than ever before. She seemed to be hiding down her usual toilet.
"Myrtle?" Harry called out, and at once, the sobbing stopped.
"Who's that?" She demanded, "Come to throw something else at me?"
Harry shared a confused look with Ron, before asking,
"Why would I throw something at you?" Harry asked,
"Don't ask me," Myrtle shouted, emerging with a wave of yet more water, which splashed onto the already sopping floor. "Here I am, minding my own business, and someone thinks it's funny to throw a book at me…"
"But…I mean," Harry began incredulously, "It's not like it could hurt you, could it? It would just pass through you," That had been the wrong thing to say.
Myrtle puffed herself up and shrieked, "Let's all throw books at Myrtle, because she can't feel it! Ten points if you can get it through her stomach! Fifty points if it goes through her head! Well, ha, ha, ha! What a lovely game!"
"Who threw it at you?" Ron asked,
"I don't know," Myrtle wailed, "I was just sitting in the U-bend, thinking about death, and it fell right through the top of my head," said Myrtle, glaring at them. "It's over there, it got washed out,"
Harry and Ron looked under the sink where Myrtle was pointing. A small, thin book lay there. It had a shabby black cover and was as wet as everything else in the bathroom. Harry stepped forward to pick it up, but Ron suddenly flung out an arm to hold him back.
"What?" said Harry.
"Are you crazy?" said Ron. "It could be dangerous,"
"Dangerous?" said Harry, laughing. "Come off it, how could it be dangerous?"
"You'd be surprised," said Ron, who was looking apprehensively at the book, but Harry ignored her and reached out for the book. Lifting it up, he turned it experimentally in his hand, when nothing happened, he showed it to Ron who was looking at Harry as though the book were about to suddenly explode in Harry's hand.
Opening the book, Harry found that there was nothing written in any of the pages, until Harry got to the first page where they found, written in smudged ink, was "T.M. Riddle,"
"Hang on," said Ron, who had approached cautiously and was looking over Harry's shoulder. "I know that name…T. M. Riddle got an award for special services to the school fifty years ago."
"How do you know that?" Harry asked,
"Remember my detention with Filch at the beginning of the year?" Ron asked, "Well, Filch made me polish his shield about fifty times in detention," said Ron resentfully. "That was the one I burped slugs all over. If you'd wiped slime off a name for an hour, you'd remember it, too."
"What I want to know," Harry said, once more flipping through the diary, "Is why he never wrote in it."
"I'm more curious why someone tried to flush it down a toilet," Ron said, still looking apprehensively at the diary. Then, as Harry pocketed it, Ron looked over shoulder and then whispered in a hushed tone,
"Fifty points if you get it through her head,"
BREAK
Valentine's day had been an utter disaster. Lockhart had the brilliant idea of hiring a bunch of gnomes and dressing them up as little cupids, and allowing them to run amok around the castle, handing out individually crafted valentines. Harry had had a particularly mortifying encounter, where one of the things had sung to him in the middle of the corridor between classes. He spent the rest of the day listening to people sing the valentine at him under their breath. The only highlight of the day had been History of Magic.
Professor Jackson, who had apparently received at least two-dozen valentines before second period, had gotten so enraged by the singing gnomes, that he'd banished the four that had tried to start singing in Harry's lesson, through the classroom door.
That night, after escaping Fred and George who were making a show of reciting Harry's valentine, Harry began pouring over the diary. What had happened, had shocked him to his core. Ron had been quite right, when he'd said that looks could be deceiving. Tom Riddle's diary had been enchanted, with the memory of Riddle himself. After a brief exchange, the diary had sucked Harry inside its contents, and Harry had been forced to watch as Riddle, confronted the person who had last opened the Chamber, over fifty years ago.
Harry would have never suspected it to be Hagrid.
Harry still refused to believe it, even after seeing the evidence with his own two eyes. Hagrid, had been his first real friend in the entire world. The first person to ever genuinely care about Harry and his well-being. Sure, Hagrid had a pension for loving dark and dangerous monsters, but he would never do something so heinous, as sicking one of his monsters on the students of the school, and he certainly would never had killed anyone.
Harry had just come out of the diary, when Ron came meandering up the stairs. Harry quickly explained what happened and, after a brief discussion, both he and Ron agreed they needed to tell someone.
"But who? Dumbledore would never believe us, he'd think we're nutters," Ron said,
Harry thought for a moment, and the image of someone flashed through his minds eye, and he spoke without thinking,
"Professor Jackson," Harry said quickly, "He's trying to kill the monster, maybe he can use the diary, maybe he can get Tom-"
"Tom?" Ron asked,
"The diary," Harry explained exasperatedly, "Maybe he can use it to find the monster. Or even find the chamber, it looked to me an awful lot like Tom knew a lot about the Chamber," Harry said excitedly,
Ron looked apprehensive. As much as they liked Professor Jackson, his actions the past several weeks, and the strange conversations he'd been having with Dumbledore, were leaving both Harry and Ron a little leery of their history professor. When Ron voiced as much, Harry said,
"I know, but from everything we've heard, it sounds like Professor Jackson is the only one trying to do something, we have to help him if we can,"
Finally, Ron agreed, and after looking at the clock and seeing that they still had some time before curfew, they bolted from the Common Room towards Professor Jackson's office. However, when they arrived at the office of the history professor, they found that they weren't the only ones seeking his counsel. Outside the door, fidgeting and shifting from one foot to the other nervously, was Ginny Weasley.
She turned when she heard them approach, her eyes meeting Harry's and, as was custom, widened in surprise in horror. She then looked down at Harry's arms, and more specifically, at the diary he was holding. What little color remained in her cheeks vanished, and before either Harry or Ron could stop, she turned on her heel, and ran as fast as she could down the corridor.
"What was that all about?" Ron asked Harry incredulously,
"I have no idea," Harry said, watching the spot Ginny had run from in bewilderment.
They were saved from their confusion by the door to Professor Jackson's door opening, and the sound of voices coming from inside, Professor Jackson was saying,
"…and don't worry about getting that back to me anytime soon, just get it back to me when you're done with it, same goes for you Tracey." And out stepped Daphne Greengrass and Tracey Davis, both carrying old looking books in their arms. They stopped dead when they saw Harry and Ron, and Daphne's eyes narrowed suspiciously at them.
"Oh, Harry. Ron. What are you two doing here, curfew is in only a few minutes," Professor Jackson said,
"We need to speak to you Professor," Harry said, glancing nervously at the Slytherins and unconsciously shifting the diary around in his arms, "It's…it's urgent."
Professor Jackson gave them both a quizzical look before nodding, "Very well," He said, then turned to the Slytherin's, "Off to bed, both of you. Quick before the Prefects find you,"
"Thanks Professor," Tracey called out, grabbing Daphne by the hand who was still staring at Harry and Ron suspiciously, before allowing herself to be dragged away,
"And I don't want to hear about you reading those in class, Professor Snape would have my head if you get caught," Professor Jackson yelled at their backs before turning to Harry and Ron, "Well you two, come on in," Then he quickly ushered them both into his office, before glancing down both ends of the hallway and making sure no teachers were around.
Harry followed Ron into the office, before abruptly slamming into his back. Ron had stopped in his tracks, and was staring over into the corner at Mrs. O'Leary.
"Relax Ron, she's harmless," Professor Jackson said with a laugh and giving Ron a gently push forward. Ron allowed himself to be guided into one of the chairs in front of Professor Jackson's desk, though he never took his eyes off the large animal.
"Now, what can I help you two with," Professor Jackson said, taking his seat behind the desk, Harry shared a quick glance with Ron, who had finally taken his attention off of Mrs. O'Leary, before Harry showed off the diary. He went into a quick explanation over how they found the diary and what Harry had experienced. Both Harry and Ron had decided that while they wouldn't admit to their little excursion to the Slytherin Common Room, they wouldn't deny that they too were looking into the chamber. Professor Jackson listened intently as Harry described his experience with the diary, and what he had seen inside the diary. When Harry had finished with his story, Professor Jackson didn't say anything, he just held out a hand expectantly for the diary. Hesitating only for a moment, Harry handed over the diary, and Professor Jackson looked at it in interest. Reaching into a small cupboard in his desk, Professor Jackson fiddled around for a second, before he pulled out a pair of spectacles.
"They're enchanted," Professor Jackson explained as he put the square-frames on his face, "I have dyslexia and they're enchanted to help me read properly." Opening the diary, he flipped briefly through the empty pages, before setting it down on the table. Withdrawing his wand, he pressed the tip against the black leather cover and said, "Apokalýpste ta mystiká sas" in an undertone.
There was a tremendously loud 'BANG' and all three of them were blown from their chairs. Papers on the desk went flying and Mrs. O'Leary leapt to her feet and began barking loud enough to make it sound as though they were being bombarded. Professor Jackson recovered quickly, and in an instant, he was back on his feet, his wand pointed at the diary, which had flipped open. Harry and Ron recovered their faculties quickly enough and got back to their feet.
As startling as the sudden explosion of magic had been, what happened next left Harry feeling more than a little terrified. The diary had opened to the halfway mark, its yellowed pages open for all to see. Then, in the same curvy and well penned letters Harry had seen earlier that night, words began to appear.
"Nice try, Professor Jackson. Try again for a Sickle?"
Professor Jackson was breathing heavily, his glasses had been knocked from his face, and his eyes were wide and slightly manic. The grip on his wand was so tight, that Harry was worried that if Professor Jackson gripped his wand any harder he'd break it in half.
Mrs. O'Leary was still barking, and the windows were shaking from the force of the noise,
"Stille!" Professor Jackson snapped at the large dog, who obeyed immediately.
"Get back to your dorm," Professor Jackson said softly, not taking his eyes off of the diary,
"Sir?" Harry asked nervously,
"Get back to your dorm right now. Don't stop, don't do anything else, and don't tell anyone about this," Professor Jackson said again, his voice tight which brokered no argument. But when Harry and Ron didn't move, he shouted, "Go!" and Harry and Ron scrambled as fast as possible away from the office, and they didn't stop running until they made it all the way back to the Gryffindor Common Room.
The portrait closed behind them, and they found themselves alone in the Common Room,
"What the hell was that?" Ron demanded,
"I have absolutely no idea," Harry breathed, "But Professor Jackson looked terrified,"
They fell into silence for a moment, both breathing heavily, before Ron shot Harry a look,
"I told you it could be dangerous,"
AN: Well, well, well, what happens next? Does the good professor know what he's stumbled upon? Will Professor Jackson find a way to destroy the diary? And what plans do Riddle and the diary have for him? Who knows? I know. And you'll know soon enough. Thanks for all the love this has been getting guys, it really means a lot to see so many people are enjoying this, hopefully, fresh take on an overdone trope. Things escalates very, very quickly in the next chapter, and we're getting to the introduction of some characters I very much enjoyed writing very soon. I got a lot of fun things in store for all of you, so I hope