Chapter 11: Myths and Memories

Hermione and John left the hospital wing at the beginning of February. On Hermione's first evening back in Gryffindor Tower, Harry showed her T. M. Riddle's diary and told her the story of how they had found it.

"Oooh, it might have hidden powers," said Hermione enthusiastically, taking the diary and looking at it closely.

"If it has, it's hiding them very well," said Ron, "Maybe it's shy. I don't know why you don't chuck it, Harry."

"I wish I knew why someone did try to chuck it," said Harry, "I wouldn't mind knowing how Riddle got an award for special services to Hogwarts either."

"If that book has hidden powers and was chucked," said the familiar voice of Prue Halliwell as she walked up to them in casual clothes, "then there's a high possibility that it's cursed."

"If it was cursed," Ron said skeptically, "then Harry would've been affected immediately."

"Ron's right, Prue," Hermione agreed, "Curses don't bide their time."

"Not all of them," Prue admitted, "but some do. Especially, of the caster wanted the one that touched it to be affected slowly as a way to torture them."

"Blimey," Ron said paling a bit, "isn't that a bit extreme?"

"Not to the caster," Prue said.

"I say we show this to John tomorrow during break," Hermione suggested, "He should be able to determine if it's cursed or not."

"Right," Harry nodded in agreement.

"Oh, John's out of the hospital wing?" Prue asked a little more eagerly than she intended to sound.

"Yeah," Hermione asked holding in a smirk, "Why? You itching to see him?"

"No," Prue said a bit too quickly, "I was just… curious, is all."

"Anyway, the reason why Riddle got that ward could've been anything," said Ron, "Maybe he got thirty O.W.L.s or saved a teacher from the giant squid. Maybe he murdered Myrtle; that would've done everyone a favor…"

But Harry could tell from the arrested look on Hermione's face that she was thinking what he was thinking.

"What?" said Ron, looking from one to the other.

"Well, the Chamber of Secrets was opened fifty years ago, wasn't it?" he said, "That's what Malfoy said."

"Yeah…" said Ron slowly.

"And this diary is fifty years old," said Hermione, tapping it excitedly.

"So?" Ron said still not getting it.

"Oh, Ron, wake up," snapped Hermione, "We know the person who opened the Chamber last time was expelled fifty years ago. We know T. M. Riddle got an award for special services to the school fifty years ago. Well, what if Riddle got his special award for catching the Heir of Slytherin? His diary would probably tell us everything… where the Chamber is, and how to open it, and what sort of creature lives in it… the person who's behind the attacks this time wouldn't want that lying around, would they?"

"That's a brilliant theory, Hermione," said Ron, "with just one tiny little flaw. There's nothing written in his diary."

But Hermione was pulling her wand out of her bag.

"It might be invisible ink!" she whispered.

She tapped the diary three times and said, "Aparecium!"

Nothing happened. Undaunted, Hermione shoved her hand back into her bag and pulled out what appeared to be a bright red eraser.

"It's a Revealer, I got it in Diagon Alley," she said.

She rubbed hard on January first. Nothing happened.

"I'm telling you, there's nothing to find in there," said Ron, "Riddle just got a diary for Christmas and couldn't be bothered filling it in."

In the Ravenclaw common room…

Phoebe, Anne, and Ritchie were all working on schoolwork next to the fireplace helping each other when needed as they had nothing else to do. However, that all ended when they saw the Ravenclaw entrance/exit open up in the corner of their eyes. Curious, they looked up from their schoolwork and saw John walk in wearing his casual clothes. They didn't move to greet him, because John had an expression that indicated he was in no mood for niceties. He proved that as he walked past them towards the boy's dormitories where he sleeps.

"What happened while he was away?" Anne asked concerned for John as she looked in the direction he went.

"I don't know," Ritchie said closing his schoolbook with his schoolwork inside, "I'll go ask."

He then packed up everything and headed to the 2nd year portion of the boys dormitories where he found John drawing in his journal he had. However, unlike most people, John uses this journal for when he's preparing spells for him to use in the future if needed. The mystical circle john was drawing was unlike any Ritchie had ever seen.

"Hey John," Ritchie said as he walked in and placed his stuff on a nearby bed, "You alright."

"I'm just dandy," John grunted, "now piss off."

"John-" Ritchie began slowly.

"Do you not have ears you git?!" John snapped as he whirled to glare at Ritchie, "I told you to piss off! Now, unless you'd like to be hexed leave me the fuck alone!"

"You have to talk to someone," Ritchie said as he picked up his stuff, "whatever you're feeling… you can't keep it to yourself otherwise it'll eat you up."

At that, Ritchie turned around and headed towards the 4th year portion of the boys dormitories. With quiet finally restored, John returned to his journal but he had completely forgotten what spell he was preparing. In irritation he shut his journal and just laid down in his bed and closed his eyes. A little while later he began dreaming, and just like last time… it was more a vision than anything else.

In the vision…

Godric Gryffindor was now on a cliffside staring over an ocean and Rowena Ravenclaw was standing right next to him. She now wore a newer blue-ish dress that also had armor on it and a sword strapped to her left hip. Slung on her back was a quiver and some bows and in her hand was a walking stick that was more staff than anything. Godric is still wearing the same attire though, but that's because he's trying to stay under the radar of some people. Rowena is as well, but of the variety that hates magic and kills those that wield it. That is why she has light armor, a sword, and a bow and quiver full of arrows. Otherwise, she'd just be wearing the blue dress.

"This place…" Godric said slowly as he surveyed the area, "looks like it could be a good place to hide our kind."

"How?" Rowena asked, "there isn't a building of any sort in sight, and neither is there land to build one. Even with magic, we can't create a building out of thin air."

"So, we form the building out of the Earth," Godric suggested.

"Even that could take years," Rowena said still skeptical.

"Then we best get started," Godric said.

The next day…

Harry was determined to find out more about Riddle, so he headed for the trophy room to examine Riddle's special award, accompanied by an interested Hermione and a thoroughly unconvinced Ron, who told them that it would just be a trophy. That there'd be nothing it could tell them. However, Harry was adamant on going down there so Ron reluctantly agreed to tag along.

"Aren't we supposed to show John that diary?" Ron asked trying to delay the trip to the trophy room.

"Oh, that's right!" Hermione said turning to Harry, "We should do that first. It shouldn't take too much time."

After a minute of thinking, Harry nodded in agreement. With that decision made, they headed off to where they new John would be. The dining hall. The reason for John being in the dining hall is it was the only place he wouldn't have to come across Gilderoy Lockhart. They found him at the Ravenclaw table doing schoolwork alongside Anne Marie and Gary Lester. Anne didn't look thrilled to be near the former drug addict, but she decided to just have John be between her and Gary.

"Heya John," Hermione said as she, Harry, and Ron walked up.

John didn't even raise his head, but he grunted an acknowledgement of her presence.

"I know you're a little busy," Hermione said, "but would you be willing to check out something."

When John ignored them, Anne stepped on his foot under the table which prompted him to look at them.

"Check on what?" John asked with a tone that indicated he didn't care.

"This," Harry said producing Riddle's diary.

"A book," John said not very thrilled.

"We're thinking it might be cursed," Hermione said.

John immediately swiped the book from Harry and muttered something under his breath before opening it to see the blank pages. He frowned as nothing happened… not even a flare of light.

"Might hand it back to you tomorrow if I figure it safe," John decided after a moment's thought as he definitely did feel some sort of aura coming from the book, "but if it is dangerous or anything of the like… I'll hand it to Dumbledore."

"That sounds reasonable," Hermione said nodding in agreement, "Well, Harry. Off to the Trophy room."

"Seeya," Anne said to Harry, Ron, and Hermione as they left. She then turned to John who was folding it in a cloth napkin before placing it into his cloak.

"Just a precaution," John said when he noticed her looking at him, "might be a delayed curse."

At that, they continued their schoolwork.

Meanwhile, with Harry…

Harry, Hermione, and Ron were now in the Trophy room looking at T. M. Riddle's trophy and Ron wasn't very impressed. He was annoyed more than not if he was being honest.

Riddle's burnished gold shield was tucked away in a corner cabinet. It didn't carry details of why it had been given to him. However, they did find Riddle's name on an old Medal for Magical Merit, and on a list of old Head Boys.

"He sounds like Percy," said Ron, wrinkling his nose in disgust, "Prefect, Head Boy… probably top of every class-"

"You say that like it's a bad thing," interrupted Hermione in a slightly hurt voice.

Later…

The sun had now begun to shine weakly on Hogwarts again. Inside the castle, the mood had grown more hopeful. There had been no more attacks since those on Justin and Nearly Headless Nick, and Madam Pomfrey was pleased to report that the Mandrakes were becoming moody and secretive, meaning that they were fast leaving childhood. John was currently walking towards the girls' bathroom where Harry found the diary.

"The moment their acne clears up, they'll be ready for repotting again," John heard her telling Filch kindly as he passed them at a certain point while on the way, "And after that, it won't be long until we're cutting them up and stewing them. You'll have Mrs. Norris back in no time."

Perhaps the Heir of Slytherin had lost his or her nerve, thought John even though he doubted it. It must be getting riskier and riskier to open the Chamber of Secrets, with the school so alert and suspicious. Perhaps the monster, whatever it was, was even now settling itself down to hibernate for another fifty years…

Ernie Macmillan of Hufflepuff didn't take this cheerful view. He was still convinced that Harry was the guilty one, that he had "given himself away" at the Dueling Club. Peeves wasn't helping matters; he kept popping up in the crowded corridors singing "Oh, Potter, you rotter…" now with a dance routine to match. Of course, John wasn't there for the dueling club. However, he did hear about it. Specifically, that Harry spoke in parseltongue. John narrowed his eyes at that, but he didn't believe Harry was the heir to Slytherin.

Eventually, he reached the girls' bathroom and entered it immediately. He looked around and saw that it was no longer flooded. However, it was still in need of repairs. He then began looking around.

"Now then," John muttered to himself, "Why would anyone try to drown a book?"

He then pulled out his wand and was about to perform a spell before someone was suddenly in his face.

"Why you here John?" Moaning Myrtle asked.

"I'm investigating the diary," John said a little irritated, "now will you please get out of my way?"

Moaning Myrtle hung her head low as she floated away moaning as she did so.

"Revealio," John said. However, nothing happened. With a frown, he tucked his wand back into his robes and crossed his arms as he thought.

With Harry…

Gilderoy Lockhart seemed to think he himself had made the attacks stop. Harry overheard him telling Professor McGonagall so while the Gryffindors were lining up for Transfiguration.

"I don't think there'll be any more trouble, Minerva," he said, tapping his nose knowingly and winking, "I think the Chamber has been locked for good this time. The culprit must have known it was only a matter of time before I caught him. Rather sensible to stop now, before I came down hard on him."

"You know, what the school needs now is a morale-booster," Gilderoy continued much to Minerva's chagrin, "Wash away the memories of last term! I won't say any more just now, but I think I know just the thing…"

He tapped his nose again and strode off.

Lockhart's idea of a morale-booster became clear at breakfast time on February fourteenth. Harry hadn't had much sleep because of a late-running Quidditch practice the night before, and he hurried down to the Great Hall, slightly late. He met John there who was staring into the Great Hall with an eye twitching. Harry could see why when he walked through the doors.

The walls were all covered with large, lurid pink flowers. Worse still, heart-shaped confetti was falling from the pale blue ceiling. As John headed to the Ravenclaw table Harry went over to the Gryffindor table, where Ron was sitting looking sickened, and Hermione seemed to have been overcome with giggles.

"What's going on?" Harry asked them, sitting down and wiping confetti off his bacon.

Ron pointed to the teachers' table, apparently too disgusted to speak. Lockhart, wearing lurid pink robes to match the decorations, was waving for silence. The teachers on either side of him were looking stony-faced. From where he sat, Harry could see a muscle going in Professor McGonagall's cheek. Snape looked as though someone had just fed him a large beaker of Skele-Gro.

"Happy Valentine's Day!" Lockhart shouted, "And may I thank the forty-six people who have so far sent me cards! Yes, I have taken the liberty of arranging this little surprise for you all… and it doesn't end here!"

Lockhart clapped his hands and through the doors to the entrance hall marched a dozen surly-looking dwarfs. Not just any dwarfs, however. Lockhart had them all wearing golden wings and carrying harps.

"My friendly, card-carrying cupids!" beamed Lockhart, "They will be roving around the school today delivering your valentines! And the fun doesn't stop here! I'm sure my colleagues will want to enter into the spirit of the occasion! Why not ask Professor Snape to show you how to whip up a Love Potion! And while you're at it, Professor Flitwick knows more about Entrancing Enchantments than any wizard I've ever met, the sly old dog!"

John and Harry both slammed their heads onto their tables unknowingly in unison because they just knew that Gilderoy was going to do something to make them the star of this Valentine's Day torture. On the other hand. Professor Flitwick had buried his face in his hands. Snape was looking as though the first person to ask him for a Love Potion would be force-fed poison.

"Please, Hermione, tell me you weren't one of the forty-six," said Ron as he, Harry, Hermione, and John left the Great Hall for their first lesson. Hermione suddenly became very interested in searching her bag for her schedule and didn't answer.

All day long, the dwarfs kept barging into their classes to deliver valentines, to the annoyance of the teachers, and late that afternoon as the Ravenclaws were walking upstairs for Charms, one of the dwarfs caught up with John.

"Oy, you! 'John Constantine!" shouted a particularly grim-looking dwarf, elbowing people out of the way to get to John.

Not interested to get this embarrassing treatment in front of people, John tried to escape. However, the dwarf cut his way through the crowd by kicking people's shins, and reached him before he'd gone two paces.

"I've got a musical message to deliver to John Constantine in person," he said, twanging his harp in a threatening sort of way.

"Then shove it where the sun don't shine," John said, trying to escape.

"Stay still!" grunted the dwarf, grabbing hold of John's robe and pulling him back.

"Let me go!" John snarled, tugging.

With a loud ripping noise, a part of his robe tore off and he was sent tumbling down the stairs like a wheel. Fortunately, the students were kind enough to stop him from going too far even though they feared him right now. Guess they thought the burning man would spare them from his fiery retribution when it comes.

John stood up with a furious expression as he stared at the dwarf. He whipped out his wand to attack him, but when he did he saw that it had snapped. He forgot all about his rage at that point as he stared at the wand which was his mother's. He just stood there not even listening to anything. Suddenly, he was snapped back to reality when e the dwarf started singing, causing something of a holdup in the corridor.

"What's going on here?" came the cold, drawling voice of Draco Malfoy. John quickly stuffed his broken wand into his robes, desperate to get away before Malfoy could hear his musical valentine.

"What's all this commotion?" said another familiar voice as Percy Weasley arrived.

Losing his head, John tried to make a run for it, but the dwarf seized him around the knees and brought him crashing to the floor.

"Right," he said, sitting on John's ankles. "Here is your singing valentine:

His eyes are as blue as a clear sky,
His hair is as sandy as sugar candy .
I wish he was mine, he's really divine,
The exorcist who conquered the demons of Hell."

John would have given all the gold in Gringotts to evaporate on the spot. With an irritated expression, he got up, his feet numb from the weight of the dwarf, as Percy Weasley did his best to disperse the crowd, some of whom were crying with mirth.

"Off you go, off you go, the bell rang five minutes ago, off to class, now," he said, shooing some of the younger students away, "And you, Malfoy…"

John, glancing over, saw Malfoy stoop and snatch up something. Leering, he showed it to Crabbe and Goyle, and John realized that his snapped wand had fallen out of his robes when the dwarf tripped him. Now Malfoy had it.

"Give that back," snarled John angrily.

"Why?" Malfoy sneered, "It's nothing but firewood now."

"What do you think I should do with it?" Malfoy asked as he looked at Crabbe and Goyle.

"Use it for shish kabobs," they said in unison.

"Is all you think about food?" Malfoy asked unimpressed and a little annoyed before turning back to John.

"Hand it over, Malfoy," said Percy sternly.

"No," Malfoy said, "i think I'll send it to my father, and with Constantine no longer having a wand… he's bound to be sent to squib school. What do they teach in squib school? How to clean up people's vomit?"

At that, John snapped. He went to tackle Malfoy, but Percy held him back.

"I'm going to rip your throat out you snake!" John snarled.

"With what?" Malfoy sneered, "your bare hands?"

At that, John elbowed Percy and leapt on top of Malfoy again. Malfoy now had a look of utter fear as John once more caught fire and this time his skin started to look scaly.

"Stupify!" Percy yelled with his wand pointed at John. The red bolt of magic hit John in the back rendering him unconscious. As soon as John had fallen off of his cousin, Malfoy scrambled to his feet and bolted off. As he did so, he dropped John's broken wand onto the stairs behind him.

Later, in the infirmary…

John woke up to find himself in the infirmary and he was strapped to the hospital bed. For whatever reason, they felt it necessary to restrain him.

"How are you feeling John?" asked the familiar voice of Dumbledore to his right. John looked to his right and saw the Headmaster sitting next to him.

"I'd feel better if I wasn't tied down like some nutjob," John said ruder than intended.

"That was for everyone's safety as well as yours," Dumbledore explained.

"Do you remember what happened?" Dumbledore asked.

"Do you mean the embarrassing valentine delivered by Gimli son of Gloin or Malfoy being a pratt?" John asked.

"I see," Dumbledore said, "So you don't remember that you leapt onto Malfoy and spontaneously combusted into flames."

"I think that's something I'd remember," John said dryly.

Dumbledore stared at him for about a minute before he produced his wand and flicked it causing the restrains to release John.

"Walk with me John," Dumbledore said as he stood up.

Quietly, John got off of the bed and followed Dumbledore. They were silent through a fair portion of the walk till they turned a corridor which John remembered lead to the headmaster's office.

"There are a lot of things people don't know about Godric Gryffindor," Dumbledore said, "And I believe that one of them is that he had a secret genetic ability to transform into a humanoid dragon."

"So," John said, "What's this have to do with my human torch moments?"

"Some historians theorize that the lion being Gryffindor's symbol was just because he liked how it looked," Dumbledore continued as he lead them to the gargoyle guarding he stairs.

"Sherbert lemon," Dumbledore said prompting the gargoyle to jump aside and allow them through.

"I still don't understand," John said confused as they walked up the stairs as it grew out of the ground.

"It is my personal belief that Godric Gryffindor and the muggle world's most popular myth are one and the same," Dumbledore said as he walked towards his bookshelf and picked up a book.

"What myth?" John asked. In response, Dumbledore merely turned around and walked over to him. When he reached john, he handed the book to him.

The title read: King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table.

"How could they be the same?" John asked skeptical, "King Arthur is a muggle without magic while Godric is a wizard."

"Tell me something John," Dumbledore asked as he walked towards the sword of Gryffindor with John right behind him, "Why would a wizard need to use a sword?"

"Swords are cool," John said, "and they wouldn't have time to use only spells once in a battle with sword users?"

"True," Dumbledore conceded, "however they could just steal a sword from a fallen or disarmed enemy. They wouldn't need to own one themselves."

John had no counter for that, because it made sense.

"I promise you john," Dumbledore said, "I'll help you learn to control this power of yours, but I need you to give me time to research it. I also need you to trust me."

"You still haven't answered what all this had to do with me," John said with a raised eyebrow.

"It's simple," Dumbledore said as he turned to look at him, "You are the last Heir of Gryffindor."

John just blinked dumbly at that before he laughed at how ridiculous it was for him to be an Heir to godric Gryffindor while being in Ravenclaw and related to the Malfoys who are die-hard Slytherins.

"Take some time to process this," Dumbledore said as he knew how ridiculous it sounded, "and when you're ready, come find me."

John tried to return the book, but Dumbledore merely shook his head as he raised his hand. It was clear that Dumbledore wanted John to keep it… or to just borrow it to catch up on his Arthurian Lore.

Later, that night…

John went to bed before anyone else in his dormitory that night. This was partly because he didn't feel like dealing with everyone's fearful looks when they looked at him. Partly because he wanted to examine finally exam Riddle's diary to see what danger it held, and knew that Anne thought he was wasting his time.

After putting on some elastic gloves and his casual clothes, John sat on his four-poster and flicked through the blank pages, not one of which had a trace of scarlet ink on it. Then he pulled a new bottle out of his bedside cabinet, dipped his quill into it, and dropped a blot onto the first page of the diary. He wasn't certain, but he figured it might've also been enchanted to hide everything that was written except to the owner.

The ink shone brightly on the paper for a second and then, as though it was being sucked into the page, vanished. Intrigued, John loaded up his quill a second time and wrote, "My name is John Constantine."

The words shone momentarily on the page and they, too, sank without trace. Then, at last, something happened. Oozing back out of the page, in his very own ink, came words John had never written.

"Hello, John Constantine. My name is Tom Riddle. How did you come by my diary?"

These words, too, faded away, but not before John had started to scribble back.

"Someone gave it to me," John wrote.

He waited eagerly for Riddle's reply. Normally, he wouldn't be eager for a strange book to talk to him. However, he had never seen such a thing happen before.

"Who gave it to you?" Riddle asked.

"An associate of mine," John said, "He wanted to know if this book was cursed or not."

"Ah," Riddle said in understanding, "Where did he get it?"

"Apparently someone tried to flush it down a toilet," John said dryly.

"Lucky that I recorded my memories in some more lasting way than ink," Riddle remarked, "But I always knew that there would be those who would not want this diary read."

John wondered what Riddle meant, and had a feeling it was that really dark magic he read about last year. However, he decided to pretend to be ignorant.

"What do you mean?" John wrote.

"I mean that this diary holds memories of terrible things," Riddle explained, "Things that were covered up. Things that happened at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

The Chamber… thought John, He must be talking about the Chamber.

"That's where I am now," John wrote quickly, "I'm at Hogwarts, and horrible stuff's been happening. Do you know anything about the Chamber of Secrets?"

His heart was hammering. Riddle's reply came quickly, his writing becoming untidier, as though he was hurrying to tell all he knew.

"Of course I know about the Chamber of Secrets. In my day, they told us it was a legend, that it did not exist. But this was a lie. In my fifth year, the Chamber was opened and the monster attacked several students, finally killing one. I caught the person who'd opened the Chamber and he was expelled. But the headmaster, Professor Dippet, ashamed that such a thing had happened at Hogwarts, forbade me to tell the truth. A story was given out that the girl had died in a freak accident. They gave me a nice, shiny, engraved trophy for my trouble and warned me to keep my mouth shut. But I knew it could happen again. The monster lived on, and the one who had the power to release it was not imprisoned."

John nearly upset his ink bottle in his hurry to write back.

"It's happening again now. There have been three attacks and no one seems to know who's behind them. Who was it last time?"

"I can show you, if you like," came Riddle's reply, "You don't have to take my word for it. I can take you inside my memory of the night when I caught him."

John hesitated, his quill suspended over the diary. What did Riddle mean? How could he be taken inside somebody else's memory? He glanced nervously at the door to the dormitory, which was growing dark. When he looked back at the diary, he saw fresh words forming.

"Let me show you."

John paused for a fraction of a second and then wrote two letters, "OK."

The pages of the diary began to blow as though caught in a high wind, stopping halfway through the month of June. Mouth hanging open, John saw that the little square for June thirteenth seemed to have turned into a minuscule television screen. His hands trembling slightly, he raised the book to press his eye against the little window, and before he knew what was happening, he was tilting forward; the window was widening, he felt his body leave his bed, and he was pitched headfirst through the opening in the page, into a whirl of color and shadow.

He felt his feet hit solid ground, and stood, shaking, as the blurred shapes around him came suddenly into focus.

He knew immediately where he was. This circular room with the sleeping portraits was Dumbledore's office, but it wasn't Dumbledore who was sitting behind the desk. A wizened, frail-looking wizard, bald except for a few wisps of white hair, was reading a letter by candlelight. John had never seen this man before.

"Bollocks," John said, "Sorry about the sudden appearance, mate. That damned-"

But the wizard didn't look up. He continued to read, frowning slightly. John began walking off and said, "I'm just gonna go for a stroll."

Still the wizard ignored him. He didn't seem even to have heard him. Thinking that the wizard might be deaf, John said something rather rude.

"Deaf git," John said.

The wizard folded up the letter with a sigh, stood up, walked past John without glancing at him, and went to draw the curtains at his window.

The sky outside the window was ruby-red; it seemed to be sunset. The wizard went back to the desk, sat down, and twiddled his thumbs, watching the door.

John looked around the office. No Fawkes the phoenix… no whirring silver contraptions. This was Hogwarts as Riddle had known it, meaning that this unknown wizard was headmaster, not Dumbledore, and he, John, was little more than a phantom, completely invisible to the people of fifty years ago.

There was a knock on the office door.

"Enter," said the old wizard in a feeble voice.

A boy of about sixteen entered, taking off his pointed hat. A silver prefect's badge was glinting on his chest. He was much taller than John, and he had jet-black hair.

"Ah, Riddle," said the headmaster.

"You wanted to see me, Professor Dippet?" said Riddle. He looked nervous.

"Sit down," said Dippet, "I've just been reading the letter you sent me."

"Oh," said Riddle. He sat down, gripping his hands together very tightly.

"My dear boy," said Dippet kindly, "I cannot possibly let you stay at school over the summer. Surely you want to go home for the holidays?"

"No," said Riddle at once, "I'd much rather stay at Hogwarts than go back to that… to that…"

Reminds me a little of Potter, John thought.

"You live in a Muggle orphanage during the holidays, I believe?" said Dippet curiously.

"Yes, sir," said Riddle, reddening slightly.

"You are Muggle-born?"

"Half-blood, sir," corrected Riddle, "Muggle father, witch mother."

"And are both your parents…?"

"My mother died just after I was born, sir. They told me at the orphanage she lived just long enough to name me… Tom after my father, Marvolo after my grandfather."

Dippet clucked his tongue sympathetically.

"The thing is, Tom," he sighed, "special arrangements might have been made for you, but in the current circumstances…"

"You mean all these attacks, sir?" said Riddle, and John's heart leapt, and he moved towards the desk, making sure he didn't miss anything.

"Precisely," said the headmaster, "My dear boy, you must see how foolish it would be of me to allow you to remain at the castle when term ends. Particularly in light of the recent tragedy… the death of that poor little girl… You will be safer by far at your orphanage. As a matter of fact, the Ministry of Magic is even now talking about closing the school. We are no nearer locating the… er… source of all this unpleasantness…"

Riddle's eyes had widened.

"Sir… if the person was caught… if it all stopped…"

"What do you mean?" said Dippet with a squeak in his voice, sitting up in his chair, "Riddle, do you mean you know something about these attacks?"

"No, sir," said Riddle quickly.

Dippet sank back, looking faintly disappointed.

"You may go, Tom…"

Riddle slid off his chair and slouched out of the room. John followed him.

Down the moving spiral staircase they went, emerging next to the gargoyle in the darkening corridor. Riddle stopped, and so did John, watching him. John could tell that Riddle was doing some serious thinking. He was biting his lip, his forehead furrowed.

Then, as though he had suddenly reached a decision, he hurried off, Harry gliding noiselessly behind him. They didn't see another person until they reached the entrance hall, when a tall wizard wearing a suit and tie with auburn hair and a beard called to Riddle from the marble staircase. That man looked like Jude Law from Fantastic beasts 2.

"What are you doing, wandering around this late, Tom?"

John gaped at the wizard. He was none other than a fifty-year-younger Dumbledore.

"I had to see the headmaster, sir," said Riddle.

"Well, hurry off to bed," said Dumbledore, giving Riddle his penetrating stare John knew well, "Best not to roam the corridors these days. Not since…"

He sighed heavily, bade Riddle good night, and strode off. Riddle watched him walk out of sight and then, moving quickly, headed straight down the stone steps to the dungeons, with John in hot pursuit.

But to John's disappointment, Riddle led him not into a hidden passageway or a secret tunnel but to the very dungeon in which John had Potions with Snape. The torches hadn't been lit, and when Riddle pushed the door almost closed, John could only just see him, standing stock-still by the door, watching the passage outside.

It felt to John that they were there for at least an hour. All he could see was the figure of Riddle at the door, staring through the crack, waiting like a statue. And just when John had stopped feeling expectant and tense and started wishing he could return to the present, he heard something move beyond the door.

Someone was creeping along the passage. He heard whoever it was pass the dungeon where he and Riddle were hidden. Riddle, quiet as a shadow, edged through the door and followed, John tip-toeing behind him, forgetting that he couldn't be heard.

For perhaps five minutes they followed the footsteps, until Riddle stopped suddenly, his head inclined in the direction of new noises. Harry heard a door creak open, and then someone speaking in a hoarse whisper.

"C'mon… gotta get yeh outta here… C'mon now… in the box…"

There was something familiar about that voice…

Riddle suddenly jumped around the corner. Harry stepped out behind him. He could see the dark outline of a huge boy who was crouching in front of an open door, a very large box next to it.

" 'Evening, Rubeus," said Riddle sharply.

The boy slammed the door shut and stood up.

"What yer doin' down here, Tom?"

Riddle stepped closer.

"It's all over," he said. "I'm going to have to turn you in, Rubeus. They're talking about closing Hogwarts if the attacks don't stop."

"What d'yeh…"

"I don't think you meant to kill anyone. But monsters don't make good pets. I suppose you just let it out for exercise and…"

"It never killed no one!" said the large boy, backing against the closed door. From behind him, Harry could hear a funny rustling and clicking.

"Come on, Rubeus," said Riddle, moving yet closer, "The dead girl's parents will be here tomorrow. The least Hogwarts can do is make sure that the thing that killed their daughter is slaughtered…"

"It wasn't him!" roared the boy, his voice echoing in the dark passage, "He wouldn'! He never!"

"Stand aside," said Riddle, drawing out his wand.

His spell lit the corridor with a sudden flaming light. The door behind the large boy flew open with such force it knocked him into the wall opposite. And out of it came something that made John let out a long, piercing scream unheard by anyone…

A vast, low-slung, hairy body and a tangle of black legs; a gleam of many eyes and a pair of razor-sharp pincers… Riddle raised his wand again, but he was too late. The thing bowled him over as it scuttled away, tearing up the corridor and out of sight. Riddle scrambled to his feet, looking after it; he raised his wand, but the huge boy leapt on him, seized his wand, and threw him back down, yelling, "NOOOOOOO!"

The scene whirled, the darkness became complete; John felt himself falling and, with a crash, he landed spread-eagled on his four-poster in the Ravenclaw dormitory, Riddle's diary lying open on his stomach.

Before he had had time to regain his breath, the dormitory door opened and Anne came in.

"There you are," she said.

John sat up. He was sweating and shaking.

"What's up?" asked Anne, looking at him with concern.

"It was Hagrid, Anne," John replied with a tone indicating he didn't believe it, "Hagrid opened the Chamber of Secrets fifty years ago."