In the last chapter: Harry, Remus, and Sirius go to Diagon Alley to get Harry's school supplies. There, Harry sees Lucius slipping Ginny a diary and wonders what he's up to. Remus and Sirius mourn Harry's upcoming departure for school and have a serious chat about a rather possible and difficult future for their little ward. On the train back to Hogwarts, Harry has an encounter with a certain pair of twins and catches sight of their little sister, who seems different from the last time he'd seen her.


The year started off without much fuss. Harry's second year at Hogwarts ushered in a new sense of excitement and diligence.

Chatter about Harry's new guardianship had died down significantly since the beginning of the summer, but with Harry's return, people suddenly seemed to remember why they'd been so hyped up in the first place. The rumors and gossip slowly trickled back into the student populace as time went on. Almost eclipsing the dual dread-excitement at the new DADA professor being the renowned author, Gilderoy Lockhart.

Harry tended to ignore it, as he was slowly (and painfully) becoming used to being quite the spectacle to the Wizarding World. His friends, however, were having a harder go at pretending it wasn't happening. For the first time, they were able to see Hermione's rather nasty temper in the face two fifth years who hadn't bothered lowing their voices when Harry and his friends turned the corner, betting on the extent of Sirius's trauma and how 'batty' he was now.

There also may have been some dog jokes thrown in there, considering everyone now knew about Sirius's animagus form from the trial.

Hermione had stomped right up to the two fifth years and released the unholy flood gates that was a young Ravenclaw scorned. It was actually quite impressive watching as Hermione tore down the two upperclassmen verbally with such intensity. She didn't curse once, but there were plenty of exclamations of how pathetic they were and how they had no right to say what they had about Harry and his Godfather considering list 'A' through 'Z' of reasons why their own families were facing troubles and they should show some common decency for other people.

By the end of the verbal flaying, both boys looked positively queasy and ready to bolt. Harry had been inspired by Hermione's rant, so when the pair turned, ready to bolt, Harry decided to dish out his own form of retaliation. Using wandless magic, Harry yanked down both of their trousers before sending a nasty stinging hex at their behinds, causing them to yelp and jump as they ran, which inevitably resulted in them tripping on the trousers around their ankles.

One of the boys had been in the middle of trying to pull up his trousers, so he fell straight onto his face. It was apparent by the immediate flood of blood and the bruised, swollen bulb on the bridge of his nose that it had broken.

The other boy had tried to catch himself with one hand as one reached for his trousers. The second boy was unluckier than the first, since the moment he landed, a sickening crack echoed through the hallway followed by the boy's groan of pain. The bones of his wrist shattered on impact, leaving his hand hanging limply in front of him.

Both injuries would be a quick and easy fix after a trip to Pomfrey's, but they would surely hurt on the way over there. It had been more about hurting their dignity than causing damage to their bodies. Harry didn't enjoy causing pain, but sometimes, the only way to get a dog to stop biting you, was to bite it back.

"You're dead meat Potter! We won't forget this!" The one with the broken nose cursed at Harry as the pair picked themselves up from the ground. His voice was nasally and clogged from the injury, and his eyes were brimming, but his threat was no less serious.

Harry didn't say anything as he watched their retreating forms, arms crossed and face impassive. Threats were taken with a grain of salt when you could no longer stay dead.

"Oh! So the 'Ice Prince' can get angry!" Draco broke the silence first and Harry almost wished he hadn't.

"If I hear that name one more time, I think I'm going to end up hitting someone." Harry hissed forebodingly, which only elicited more laughter from Draco.

Once again, the trial was to blame; or more accurately, it was the paper that covered the trial that was to blame. It was no surprise when news of the trial, as well as Harry's picture, had been plastered all over the front page of every major newspaper in Wizarding Britain. The Daily Prophet—which always seemed to be the source of his headaches these days—had decided to put a picture of Harry on their front page, a picture from the trial.

In the picture, Harry's face was completely blank as he spoke wordlessly to people outside of the frame. The picture had made him look icy—indifferent—and it had been the cause of many students at Hogwarts suddenly dubbing him 'Ice Prince' when he returned from break. Although the majority had used the term almost endearingly of Harry (mostly upperclassmen who thought that his innocent features paired with his cold demeanor towards everyone was 'adorable') there were those who used it as an insult and said it to try and get a reaction out of Harry.

Draco, ever the empathetic, had used the title teasingly, which usually ended in either a glare from Harry, a cuff on the back of the head from Anthony, or a lecture from Hermione.

Though, overall not much had happened in the first month and a half of school to really take up his attention, aside from the ridiculous spectacle Gilderoy Lockhart made. Time and time again, the man had tried pandering Harry into friendship and even after Harry's clear refusals, an article would always appear in the Daily Prophet—thank you Rita Skeeter—in which Lockhart would have given interviews and went on about being Harry's mentor and an 'inspiration' to the Boy Who Lived.

On top of all of that, the man couldn't teach a fish to swim! Which had most students seeking out the aid of the friendlier Ravenclaw upperclassmen to teach them what they needed to know. Harry and Anthony helped a few first years where they could, but most went to Michael Corner for help, since the majority of the things that came out of his mouth were either lies and slander against Harry or boasts about his own intellect, and since the first years didn't know any better, they all sought his help.

Harry didn't really mind—less work and forced interaction for him—but Hermione and Anthony were rather livid and did what they could to combat the rumors. And each time they confronted Michael—against Harry's wishes—they often turned around and gave Harry a long lecture about standing up for himself but he never really understood.

Harry still held tight to the belief that when faced with irrationally belligerent and cruel people, the best action was to not react at all and such behaviors would only make the situation worse. Perhaps it was the way he was raised in the Dursley household, where extreme religious views were taken as doctrine in the case of Harry, where silent suffering and endurance were approved of and rewarded. Some people would call that a martyr, Harry called it survival. Perhaps . . . Harry hadn't completely abandoned that mindset when he left that damned house.


Nothing else really happened during the beginning of the year, however, at the end of the first month, Grant Page—the fourth year Ravenclaw seeker—had taken a nasty tumble during training and had refused to get back on his broom. They held tryouts following that to either fill Grant's spot, or fill the spot of another Ravenclaw player so that they could take over for Grant.

Harry hadn't thought twice about the news, but apparently his friends had something else in mind, because he was practically dragged onto the pitch by Anthony and Draco to tryout. Draco had already tried out for the Slytherin team and made seeker—which Hermione claimed was due to his father buying the team all new Nimbus 2001's, much to Draco's resentment—so he and Hermione just watched from the sidelines as Harry and Anthony tried out.

Harry hadn't any interest in the sport, but he figured that the training would help strengthen both his body and his magic. Also, it would give him a better excuse for slipping away if he needed to, claiming he needed to practice.

Both He and Anthony made the team, wanting to train Anthony to replace one of their seventh year players while she studied and took her NEWT's and for when she graduated. Harry hadn't been baffled that he made the team, he was rather good at flying, what Harry hadn't been expecting, though, was to make seeker. Anthony had been over the moon to hear that not only had they both made it, but that Harry had gotten the seeker position, and Draco had been giddy, itching to face Harry on the pitch as the enemy seeker.

So Harry took up the position on the team and started training almost every day for two hours (even more on the weekends.) It had been exhausting, but Harry quickly found a balance between Quidditch, his studies, time for his friends, and time to himself.

Throughout that time, Harry had of course kept an eye on the young Weasley girl. She had ended up in Gryffindor with her brothers, but she never ate with them during meals. Instead, she could only be found in the company of a young and eccentric Ravenclaw first year—Luna Lovegood—but was usually on her own.

Although Harry had been very discrete in his observations, eventually his friends caught on to his newfound interest in the young Gryffindor. Despite Harry insisting that he felt absolutely no romantic interest in the girl, Hermione kept giving him 'knowing smiles' whenever the girl was in the vicinity and Draco constantly whined about her being a Gryffindor-'and a Weasley at that.' Anthony had been strangely quiet about the entire situation, if not a bit more defensive on Harry's part and more reluctant to believe the others over Harry, which he greatly appreciated.

After two months of watching the redhead and weathering the constant teasing and prodding of his friends, Harry's observation finally paid off. On the day of Hallowe'en, Harry had noticed the change in Weasley's behavior. As the weeks turned into months, Harry had taken note of how the girl who seemed tenacious and fiery around her brothers, had shriveled in front of the students of Hogwarts. He noticed how she became more and more recluse and her brother's often shot her worried glances from further down the table.

Although she'd become withdrawn as time went on, she was still relatively engaged in her surroundings. On the anniversary of all three potter's deaths, though, the ginger had become nearly catatonic. In the excitement of the Hallowe'en feast, nobody had noticed the dazed girl with glazed-over eyes walking next to them in the halls, nobody but Harry.

Having a gut-feeling that something was wrong, Harry had told his friends he wanted to be left alone that day—which they understood without further explanation, considering what had happened to his parents on that day—but that he would still join them for the feast later on. Then he donned his invisibility cloak and followed Ginny as she wandered through the school, seemingly aimlessly.

It was an hour before the feast that Ginny suddenly straightened, eyes still glassy, and started off in another direction with far more purpose. Harry tailed her from fifteen meters' behind, watching from afar as she ducked around corners and snuck down hallways quickly. If Harry didn't know any better, he'd have though Ginny was trying to get away from him.

Eventually they ended up outside and on the part of the grounds where the animals and magical creatures were often kept. Harry watched in confusion as Ginny ducked into the chicken coup and reemerged with three chickens hanging limp from her fist and spotted with little white, red, and black feathers all over her robes and in her hair.

She went back inside, and by now the halls were completely deserted, and still, she snuck through the castle on silent feet. Not even a minute after entering the castle, Harry was suddenly distracted by the low, hissing voice that seemed to echo around him, vibrating up from the floor and into his bones. After a moment of careful listening, Harry realized with a start that the voice was coming from the wall.

When Harry looked back up, he cursed when he realized that he'd lost Ginny while he'd been trying to find the voice. Pushing off from the wall and gazing down the long corridor with multiple hallways branching off.

'Where the bloody hell did that girl go?' Harry growled mentally as he stalked down the hallway.

'Abandoned first floor girl's bathroom.' His companion helpfully inputted. Harry narrowed his eyes.

'You know, you being able to watch multiple places and people at once could've really helped me beforehand.' Harry hissed with mild resentment, knowing it wouldn't last long but wanting to make his words count until then.

'I am watching other things as well, but splitting my attention like this can be draining and makes me less focused the more I divide my attention. I am watching you right now, as well as Voldemort, Sirius, and your little redhead. Besides, what fun would it be if everything was laid out for you from the beginning?' The mocking tone of Death's voice rang in Harry's ears as he ascended the stairs to the first floor. Although, knowing that Death was currently watching Voldemort had him curious as to what the weakened Dark Lord was up to.

Harry soon reached the corridor that held the unused-haunted girls' bathroom and immediately spotted the pools of water forming in the hallway from the flooding bathroom. Harry slowly approached the bathroom, but stopped halfway there when Ginny emerged from the bathroom with the chickens in hand.

Harry crept closer as Ginny climbed on top of a stool and levitated two chickens with ease while she pointed her wand at the third one, mumbled some spell Harry didn't quite catch, and quickly embedded two fingers into the gash made on the chicken's side. Her fingers came back out, red and slick in the glowing light of the torches on the wall.

Harry stood back and watched with unease in his stomach as the young girl repeatedly plunged her small delicate fingers into the limp body of the chicken in order to smear the next letter on the wall. When she needed more room to write, Ginny used magic to slide her stool over a bit. The displays of magic being used by the young first year would more impressive, if not for the fact that she was currently smearing the blood of an animal all over the walls and most likely under the influence of some form of magic.

When she was done, the dripping crimson letters spelled out, 'THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR BEWARE.' It had taken the blood of all three chickens to write out the huge letters on the wall. Standing in stunned, curious silence, Harry barely registered Ginny climbing down from the stool and re-entering the bathroom. Before he could move, though, she walked back out with the stiff form of what could only be Filch's cat, Mrs. Norris, in her grasp.

She then strung up the petrified cat on the torch bracket. It seemed she was done, after that, as she just stood there, staring unseeingly at the wall for nearly two whole minutes. Harry was startled out of his own thoughts about the possible meanings behind the message written in blood on the wall when he heard the echoing scuffle of approaching footsteps.

Acting quickly. Harry vanished the dead chickens and knocked Ginny out with a stunner, catching her as her limp body crumpled towards the ground. Slipping his cloak around the girl, Harry picked up her small form 'bridal style' and quickly carried her down an adjacent hallway and away from the footsteps.

Harry quickly carried her to the library under the invisibility cloak, walking to one of the groups of tables in the back of the library, hidden by towering shelves and used only for couples who wanted to sneak away and make out or what have you.

Sitting Ginny down in a chair and carefully slumping her over the table like she'd passed out while studying, Harry made sure to slide her bag off first and fish around in her bag for a text book to set out, in case she woke up and didn't remember what she did, it would be better for her to believe she'd fallen asleep while studying. Harry also made sure to clean the drying blood off of her fingers as an added measure.

Scene set up, Harry was about to set down her bag and leave to contemplate what he'd witnessed, when he suddenly thought about the diary. Glancing back down at the unconscious form of Ginny Weasley, Harry reopened her bag and riffled around until he found the diary. Whatever it was that he'd just witnessed, Harry had a strong feeling that it had to do with that diary, and even if it didn't, perhaps reading it would grant Harry some answers.

Without wasting so much as another second, Harry slipped the diary under his robes, set the bag on the floor, and promptly left the library under his cloak of invisibility. Harry made it to the feast right on time, the diary in an inner pocket of his robes weighed him down like the pages were made of lead. Throughout the entire feast, Harry's focus was split between his surroundings, the diary, and trying to coax answers out of his companion.

'The Chamber of Secrets, what exactly is that?' Harry asked as he forked another bit of food into his mouth quietly.

There was a long pause of hesitant contemplation as Harry waited for an answer. Finally, his invisible friend piped up.

'When Salazar Slytherin helped create Hogwarts, he often butted heads with the other founders about whether or not to allow muggleborns into the school, he was—obviously—against it. Eventually, Salazar left Hogwarts, but not without leaving a parting gift should his future heir ever attend the school. He created a hidden chamber underneath the castle, as well leaving a deadly and frightening beast called a Basilisk.

'Both can only be found and obtained by a parselmouth, a measure Salazar took to ensure only direct descendants of his line would have access. No one but a descendant has ever opened the chamber.' Death clarified, each morsel of information drawing on more and more of Harry's interest, until soon he wasn't even going through the motions of eating, just staring at his plate vacantly. Thankfully, considering the occasion, nobody around him commented on it.

'Slytherins' heir? But that doesn't make any sense, the message Ginny wrote said that the chamber had been opened. If the chamber could only be opened by Slytherins heir, then how did she open it?' Death didn't answer Harry, but only because the pieces had clicked together halfway through talking.

'Voldemort! He's the last of the Slytherin line, he must be the heir! But . . . that still doesn't make any sense. Voldemort is laying low right now, gathering his strength to try to regain his body, he would have neither the strength, nor the capability to constantly imperio the Weasley girl, or use some other form of magic on her. Somehow, he is indirectly involved, as is the book. I just have to figure out how.' Harry pondered as he resumed eating.


It was blank! The journal was completely blank! Harry slumped back against his headboard, staring at the blank pages of the diary that lay open before him on his bed. After the feast, Harry had excused himself from the small group that had decided to spend a bit more time together as it was still fairly early and probably find some upperclassmen to prank because some Slytherins seemed more reckless than Gryffindors.

The dorm room had been thankfully empty when Harry got there, so the first thing Harry did was pull out the book in his pocket and open it to a random page. Blank. Fanning through the entire book. Blank. It was completely blank!

But Harry had seen Ginny writing in it. There was a reason Lucius had given the book to the girl.

Closing the book, Harry studied it for the first time since he caught a glimpse of it in Ginny's bag. The black leather cover was completely blank, but on the back . . . on the back was a name Harry never thought he'd see on the book. Pressed into the soft leather, was the gold-leaf inlay name of T. M. Riddle. This book, or journal, had belonged to Voldemort—but before he was Voldemort.

This was the diary of Tom Riddle, the ambitious young half-blood wizard with a mountain of rage and an encompassing fear of death. This diary belonged to the young man who had no way of coping with the trauma of his unfortunate childhood.

The same man who did everything he could to prove his worth and rise above the other wizards of his age at Hogwarts to compensate from his lack of high blood-status, wealth, and education. The man whose fear led him down a path that wreaked destruction and devastation and ultimately to his devolution into a mockery of the great wizard he once was.

Now knowing the original owner of the book, Harry had no doubt that the book was significant, and whatever magic was at work there, it was powerful.

With a deep, centering breath, Harry released his tight hold on his magic and allowed it to uncurl out from his body and wrap loosely around the diary. The reaction wasn't immediate. At first, Harry's disappointment flared up when his magic told him that the book was nothing more than an ordinary journal. But then, a shiver ran through Harry's body when the magic inlaid deep in the fibers of the diary slowly emerged and sent a deep thrum of magic through his fingers gripping the book, up his arm, and down his spine.

Harry couldn't tell much about the magic or what it's purpose was just from that, only that there was magic in the diary.

Setting the diary back down in front of him, Harry frowned down at the little book as he tried to find the connection between the book and the Weasley girl's behavior. 'Why did Lucius give her the book? What does the book even do?' Harry thought as he stared hard at the subject of his frustrations, as if blinking would cause him to lose his train of thought and never reach a conclusion.

'Think, Harry. You know what this book is, you just haven't realized it yet. What do you know about Tom? Why would this be significant enough to place in the care of Lucius, one of his most trusted inner circle members?' Death inquired, trying to lead Harry in the right direction but toying with him instead of just coming right out and saying it.

'But why would he have Lucius give it to a first year girl from a family that are considered 'blood traitors' if it's so important?' Harry countered.

'Voldemort hasn't called his followers back to him yet, they don't know that he lives and it's been over ten years. Lucius gave the diary away by his own volition. So tell me, Harry, what is the significance of the diary?' He asked again.

'I don't know! I don't ever remember it being mentioned before, but it's obviously a very powerful object to have completely ensnared the girl. It almost acts like a powerful compulsion curse, but that type of enchantment requires the compulsion to be pre-set, and would keep the person under constant compulsion until the requirements of the spell were fulfilled.

'This . . . it's different somehow. It's off and on again compulsion, while Ginny still seems in control of her body most of the time. The diary is also very good at masking its magical signature and making it as innocuous as possible. And the book is almost sentient in the way it's magic felt coiling along with mine. As if it has its own power . . . source. . . Oh Merlin! It's a Horcrux!' Harry sucked in a sharp breath and his eyes flicked down to the diary before him with wide, wondering eyes with an edge of fear keeping him from picking it back up.

'Very good, Harry. If you are going to be searching for the other Horcruxes, you're going to have to become familiar with them—how they feel and whatnot—so that you can quickly identify the Horcrux and take it. This first Horcrux has come into your possession completely by chance, as Lucius certainly had no knowledge of its importance, but the others will be under heavy protections and you will not always have the luxury of time to figure out where the next Horcrux is and how to get to it on your own.' Death explained.

Harry nodded, still not taking his eyes off of the diary.

'Well, what do I do with it now?' Harry asked hesitantly, still dumbfounded that he'd come across one of Voldemort's horcruxes by accident!

Death laughed haltingly. 'There isn't much you can do at this point; you still need to learn apparation before you go after the other horcruxes. Though, it might be useful to find out why it effected the girl so much and why Lucius had given it to her in the first place. And it goes without saying that you must keep the book safe and out of anyone else's hands.'

Sighing, Harry picked up the diary once again and leaned back against his headboard, flicking through the blank pages absently and wondering how much of Voldemort's soul was trapped within the confines of the book. If the amount of magic it had exhibited earlier, it's level of sentience, and the nature of the object were anything to go by, it could very well be the first. Meaning that half of Tom Riddle's soul was in his hands.