AN. It's been a long time since I updated - sorry for that. It is harder for me to write than is was before: RL is interferring! And, meanwhile, I'm thinking about changing my writing style; it is too complicated now. The story itself was not supposed to be very funny, though. Maybe, the next one will be different. Something more mainstream. With romance and time travel. We'll see ;)

StarMirage, thank you again. You won't let me give up!

Chapter 6. In the Library.

October 1943, Hogwarts

After such a remarkable conversation with Dippet, Albus Dumbledore found himself in rather ambiguous situation. On the one hand, the Headmaster, though not agreeing with Albus' suspicions openly, at the same time encouraged him to continue his investigation. On the other hand, he made it clear that Albus's findings could possibly make Hogwarts condition even worse, because they might result in the school closure. And, after all, the attacks had stopped, hadn't they?

Probably, the nature of those facts would be enough to prevent a more cautious man from going further. But for Albus, that kind of caution was too similar to cowardice, and thus he could not accept it. The investigation simply had to be done; in that he was sure. The question remained, however, where should he start from.

The freedom of choice allowed by this vague affair was almost frightening. After rather long deliberation, Albus decided to return to the very beginning – and namely, to the original legend about Slytherin's monster and the Chambers of secrets. Never being quite interested in the history of magic, Dumbledore knew this legend only from what others had told, and now he was going to fill that gap in his knowledge.

To his surprise, it appeared to be quite a hard task. The legend, despite being wide-spread, was covered in some sort a veil of secrecy: it seemed that everybody remembered it, but no one was able to retell its contents exactly. Even the most complete sets of works on the subject, such as "Legends and Myths of Post-Arthurian Age" of "Hogwarts, A History: Obscure Materials" had but only a brief mention of the legend, while the forty-volume "A History of Witchcraft in Britain" hadn't even that much. To crown it all, madam Paperton herself, who had been Hogwarts librarian for more than sixty years, failed to help Albus in his search.

With disappointed sigh, Dumbledore shut the huge catalogue and headed for an exit – but then he suddenly noticed the crooked frail figure in the far corner of the library. 'Old Professor Binns!' he thought. 'That's who might help me.'

It was not strange that professor Binns came to Dumbledore's mind only now. Cuthbert Binns was the kind of person who was not usually noticed - or, which is even worse, who was forgotten just after having been noticed. Professor Binns had been teaching the History of magic since Dumbledore was a boy, and now was the oldest staff member save the Headmaster Dippet himself.

'Good afternoon, professor Binns', Dumbledore said, approaching the table where Cuthbert was sitting. 'May I join you?'

'Oh, yes, of course, professor Dumbledore,' said Binns, moving his parchments to make a room for Albus. 'Here, sit down, please.'

Albus threw a brief glance at Binns papers. As far as he could say, they all were notes about some ancient goblin uprisings. Not the subject he was interested in. He sighed and nodded down closer to Binns.

'Forgive me my interrupting your studies, dear professor', he began. 'Could you spare a moment of your time?'

'Well, well, I'll be glad to,' said Bins, still not rising his head from the writings. 'I did not know you were interested in the history of goblin movement, though; it's quite a surprise for me.'

'To say the truth, dear colleague, my interests lay in slightly different field,' said Dumbledore cautiously. 'I'm not even sure whether they are dealing with history at all, and not with some contemporary mystification.'

'Oh,' said Binns and raised his eyes at last. 'Then I'm afraid don't understand how I could be of any use to you, professor Dumbledore. I'll try to help you anyway, of course. Since you mentioned possible mystification, I suggest that you need my expertise of a certain object in your possession?'

'Hmm, it rather considers a particular school relic contributed to Founders Era; the relic, in the very existence of which I'm not sure,' Albus' speak was deliberately evasive.

Binns munched and adjusted his spectacles.

'Very few objects in wizarding world could be traced thus far. Here in Hogwarts we have only two noticeable artefacts, each is believed to have been in Godric Griffyndor possession. It is his famous ruby sword and, of course, the Sorting Hat. But you certainly do not intend to say that some of them might be a fake?'

'Oh, no, of course not, professor Binns. It never came to my mind that there could be something wrong with any of these items. Just imagine – a fake Sorting Hat - what confusion it might have caused! But are you positively sure that those two are the only objects here which belonged to Founders? I assumed there might be something from the other three of them as well, from Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff or Slytherin perhaps…'

'It is very unlikely. Nowadays the Ministry catalogues all notable items, and as far as I remember, none of former Founder's possessions are put into those lists – with the exception of the two items I've mentioned. So, if such items exist, they are in private possession… with the owners who are secretive about this, or we would have known…'

There was a noise behind the nearest shelf: a group of students, probably looking for a book, came too close to them. Dumbledore lowered his voice.

'In facts, it is not as much valuables I'm interested in as documents. Do you know anything about the writings that could have belonged to them? Personal books, some chronicles maybe?'

'Well, there were rumours of some special book of Rowena Ravenclaw, since she is always portrayed as holding a book – but it is a common mistake. It is obvious that her book on those paintings bears purely symbolical meaning, emphasizing the qualities that are valued in Ravenclaw College. But in reality, we are not aware of any books or scripts or other sort of writings attributed to Founders. Or even those written in Hogwarts on that time.'

Dumbledore could not believe what Cuthbert Binns was saying. Hogwarts chronicles were started at times of Foundation and were held without interruption for centuries and now occupied a good half of the school library.

'But the Annals of Hogwarts…'

'The earliest entry in them is dated by eleventh century, which is two hundred years past the Founders time,' interrupted Binns. 'The First Annals were destroyed in the Great fire of 1066. But you obviously know that; it is mentioned in "Hogwarts, a History."… Besides, may I ask why you are interested in this subject, professor Dumbledore?'

Dumbledore slightly blushed. He knew that Binns considered only cold, verifiable facts as the valuable source of information and didn't have respect for myths or vague theories.

'I was trying to find some sources from which this Legend about the Heir of Slytherin and the Chamber of Secrets came,' he admitted at last. 'From what you've told me, it seems quite possible that it might be later invention, created after Founders time.'

To Albus' surprise, Bins laughed; his voice sounded even more cracked than before.

'Sorry, dear colleague, I did not mean to embarrass you. Your conclusion is plausible; in fact, I personally believe that you are right – it seems that the Legend was created at least a century after Slytherin's death. There's not enough evidence to confirm it, however. I did not expect, though, that you were also going to find this Slytherin Chamber after all.'

'I am not even sure it exists,' said Dumbledore, noticing for himself this 'also'.

'There is no proof that it does. The Legend you mentioned, in particular, gives only an indirect reference.'

'I'm afraid I don't quite understand,' Dumbledore frowned, 'Are you saying that the Legend is not about the Chamber of Secrets?'

'Well, if I remember correct, the oldest known sources addressed only the Heir and some great horror that Slytherin had planted in the castle. I'm not sure, though; the text is very vague. The name 'Chamber of Secrets' was introduced much later; presumably, it appeared in the process of constant retelling…'

A book fell from the shelf, hardly missing Binn's head. Those students on the other side seemed to be very careless in their examination of the shelf, and, had Albus more time, he would certainly reprove them: poor Binns was almost get hurt. However, Dumbledore was so anxious to hear the explanation that he chose to ignore the sudden interruption, especially since Cuthbert had not even noticed anything.

'What interests me most of all, Professor Binns, is those oldest known sources. Is there any of them in our library by chance?'

'Hmm, I think there is one. Just recently I worked with that book,' Binns began to search something in his yellowish papers till he exclaimed: 'Yes, here is the reference. Its title is 'Quests and Wonders and the Things weren't meant to believe in'. The book is dated 1670; it's a compound of some insignificant historical anecdotes. I myself was interested in a Tale of Two Goblins, so had not paid much attention to the other stories. But the book is still in the library; it was put into the Restricted Section, though. I wonder why.'

The title did not sound very serious to Dumbledore. Things weren't meant to believe in? What kind of book could it be then? Besides, the mere time when the book was written – seventies of the seventeenth century – was enough to put the reader on his guard and make him to perceive this document with a fairly amount of scepsis. All that was written during that period of time, from 1670 till the beginning of eighties, could not be regarded as reliable source of information. The chaos caused by the Great and Final Parting of wizarding and muggle worlds had changed the life of both those words dramatically; it was the time of utterly impossible, obscure, and sometimes even terrifying events; the time which was contemporarily considered as one of the most grievous and dark ages in the history of British wizarding community. Nobody could be sure what was true and what was not in the documents of this time; and numerous debates of historians from all over the world, despite being very passionate, failed to clarify the subject.

But at least it was something, and Albus contentedly wrote the book title down. It appeared to be quite a useful conversation after all. And who could have imagined that old Professor Binns had been interested in something beyond his goblins! However, there was still one important question that Albus would like to ask before leaving:

'I'm so grateful, dear colleague! You can't even imagine how you've helped me... Oh, and by the way, you have mentioned that I was not the only one looking for this information, haven't you? Could it be possible that somebody else had asked you the same questions that I did?'

Binns smiled: 'Afraid of competition, aren't you? You need not have to worry: it is – '

'Excuse me, professor Dumbledore?'

Dumbledore nearly jumped at the sound of the question: he had failed to notice that they were not alone anymore. Though, as he saw the person who had interrupted them, all his disappointed vanished at once: it was Lenore Lyss, Hufflepuff prefect, a girl so nice and charming that it was simply impossible to become distressed with her presence.

'I'm very sorry, sir, but Headmaster Dippet asked me to remind you that the meeting – '

'Oh, the meeting!..'

Dumbledore completely forgot about today's school council; he was five minutes late already. With a short exclamation, he leaped up from his chair and, having nodded to Binns, almost ran towards library's exit.

The meeting had turned out to be a complete fiasco for him.

From the very beginning, Albus was aware that there wouldn't be an easy conversation and that all three of them – Dippet, Merrythought and Albus himself – should be very persuasive in order to soften von Strommen's too dangerous policy regarding the project. He even had considered the possible directions that their discussion could go, and had prepared strong, solid arguments for any of those possible occasions. Each of them was powerful enough to crush down his opponent completely, not giving a single chance to his over-militarized theories. For instance, it was easy to prove that the use of any dark-magic rituals was unnecessary for students; that they should perfectly go without irreversible spells of advanced transfiguration; and that the usage of battle magic should properly be considered before the final decision could be made…

But it appeared that all his preparation had been in vain. Otto von Strommen took the floor first; in a quite everyday and composed tone he informed them that he had already assigned his project themes, and that the students had been already successfully working on them; that all ritual ceremonies, be they dark-magical or not, should be considered as pointless waste of energy and efforts; that his attitude to mass-affecting spells was ambiguous, but he nevertheless believed that some of them were necessary; that potions and basic alchemy he decided to exclude from the project completely (he even managed not to look at Slughorn while saying that part); and at last, that advanced transfiguration, and its branch dealing with essential transformation in particular, he rated very highly, but nevertheless thought that it would be unwise to focus on it – especially since they had the Unforgivables, which allowed to achieve the same goals while being must simpler, faster, more efficient, and - the most important - less energy consuming …

Dumbledore was the first to come to his senses after this 'speech', but could not produce any intelligible objection: all his polished and cogent arguments, so thoroughly prepared, had turned into incoherent pathetic phrases like "Impossible! How could that be? The Unforgivables? But… But…" Dippet and Merrythought said nothing at all; the Headmaster acquired his usual dreamy and thoughtful look, while good old Galatea, full with indignation, seemed to completely lose her gift of speech. Otto von Strommen, smiling graciously, explained to Dumbledore, that the ill fame of Unforgivables in many respects had been exaggerated and overall should be considered as a remnant of Dark Ages; and then added that of all three Unforgivable curses, only Imperius was of interest to them; the other two was useless. After that, perplexed Dumbledore was forced to listen to a rather extensive explanation on the subject; he would obviously have learned many interesting things from it had he got enough strength to be attentive; but alas, only some disordered fragments had remained in his memory.

'The Imperius Curse,' as Albus recalled von Strommen's words, 'is far from that vulgar Crucio and especially from Avada, which is completely unmanageable and thus of little use in any magic battle. They can not even be compared. Imperius – the perfect example of what the purest, clearest magic should be. Only the power of intention, only will; the material objects aren't involved at all. Imperius, when properly cast, could not be detected by any known methods. Could you imagine anything more suitable for our purposes? Its only weakness that it can't be mastered by just anyone – but wasn't it you who insisted on doing with small loses?'

With small loses. Those words must have been intended especially for Albus: not without reason von Strommen said them with special contempt. It was very painful to listen to such reproaches. With small loses… Wrong, appalling words. As if the value of human soul could be measured!

Dumbledore went to the library that very evening, despite he still could not come to his senses after his painful defeat at the meeting. As ill luck would have it, all sensible ideas came into his mind only when it all had been over. Dozens of brilliant arguments, one better than the other, were forming in his mind, and Albus could almost see as he would have given a sound scolding to von Strommen… But there was no point in it now, so he forced himself to let them be for the time being. Yes, he had lost today; thus, he should try better in order to win next time.

Madam Paperton, the old librarian, was about to leave: she was closing the numerous cabinets of her heavy oak desk.

'Professor Dumbledore?' she screwed her eyes behind the spectacles. 'Good evening to you. Are you going to order something? It is half past nine already; I'm preparing to leave.'

'We had the meeting today,' Albus said. 'Sorry, but I could not come earlier. You haven't closed the Restricted Section yet?'

Paperton sighed and put the heavy bunch of keys back on the table.

'I'll wait for you, professor,' she mumbled.

'Oh, this is not necessary, madam Paperton. You could leave the keys to me till tomorrow. I might spend quite a long time here…'

The librarian was hesitating. Hogwarts ancient codex forbade giving the keys to anybody, even to the Headmaster himself. Nevertheless, the last librarians use to break this rule quite often; so, after a brief consideration, she chose to agree.

'Very well. Will you return them before breakfast begins? Then I leave them to you. Don't forget the binding spell when you are leaving. And no magic inside, do you remember? Even the simplest spells could harm the tomes here.'

Dumbledore smiled; she was speaking as if he still was a first-year student. Of course, he knew that no magic spells were allowed in the Restricted Section: they could interfere with the old and dangerous magic from the books. There were things in Hogwarts library which nobody would like to fight with.

'Thank you, madam Paperton!' said Albus gratefully and stretched his hand for the keys.

…As soon as the old librarian had closed the door (for a moment she hesitated, as if trying to recall something important), Albus Dumbledore headed for the Restricted Section, the entrance to which was at the farthest end of the room.

The Restricted Section met him with pitch-darkness, and the stagnant air there for some reason smelled of flowers. Albus stopped for a moment, trying to see something in this darkness, and regretted that he had not brought the light. A plain Lumos would have solved the problem, but unfortunately, it was forbidden to use even a charm that simple. Having made several steps forward, he stroke against book-stand and crouched, trying to protect himself from dozens of books that began to fall on his head.

'Just a moment, madam Paperton; I'll bring the light,' a sudden voice from the darkness sounded.

Dumbledore almost jumped: he could not even think that in the room might be somebody else. Though, he calmed down immediately – besides, he did recognize the voice – and answered:

'I wouldn't like to disappoint you, Tom, but I am not madam Paperton. Good evening to you, though. By the way, what are you doing here at this time? And, what is more, in complete darkness?'

Tom Riddle, the best Hogwarts student, was the kind of person who is usually titled 'the School pride', who is adored by all the professors, and who is always held up as an example for his less-successful schoolmates - to their further discontent. The role-model students like him would rather allow themselves to be burned alive than let somebody consider them as rule-breakers. But somehow Dumbledore almost was not surprised to meet Riddle here; it was a strange feeling – as if Albus had already expected him to do something.

'Good evening, professor. We had additional Defence against Dark Arts today – but you are aware that the schedule has changed, aren't you? It seems that now we have to study way into the night in order to work on our projects…' he faltered for a moment, 'And it also seems that madam Paperton forgot to let me out when she was leaving.'

Well, now it was absolutely clear what exactly the old librarian was trying to remember before her departure. Though it was forbidden to leave students in the Restricted Section alone, Albus could easily understand why she made an exception for Riddle: just like the rest of the staff, she almost doted upon the poor talented orphan.

'You are lucky then,' said Dumbledore, 'If not for me, you'd have to stay here overnight,' Albus imagined what kind of night it would be in a place like this, and shivered.

There was a slight rustle in the darkness, and then suddenly the light appeared – it was dim and unsteady, similar to ignis fatuus or will-o'-the-wisp – but at least, now Dumbledore could see something. Tom Riddle was standing much closer to him than Albus had expected, just next to the shelves. The light originated from the small crystal that he boy held in his hands.

'What is this?' Albus asked curiously. 'Looks like the Liquid Light.'

The Liquid Light was quite expensive, especially in the time of war, and such small crystal could cost a fortune.

'Of course it is not the Liquid Light, sir,' the boy answered with a hint of a smile. 'It's just the Cat's Eye.'

'What? The cat's - Ah, you mean the stone! So, you've enchanted it with Lumos?'

That was a really good idea, Dumbledore thought; and once again regretted that he himself had come here unprepared.

'It could work that way, sir; but I chose Oculus Lucidus – the spell altering the vision,' answered Riddle. 'Only the owner could see the light then… the others only when he wants them to. You didn't see it when you entered, did you, sir?'

Interesting, why he's worried whether he was seen? Dumbledore threw a brief look at the room but didn't notice anything suspicious.

'Nothing at all,' he answered honestly. 'A pitch-darkness.'

Riddle nodded and turned to the table, gathering his books. For some reason, he was in hurry, and one of the books, pushed by his quick movement, fell from the table. Albus bended down and picked it up.

'On Usage of Unforgivable Curses and Their Derivatives in Modern Practice of Aurors,' he read the title aloud. The author was a certain Alastor Moody, of whom Dumbledore had not heard before. 'And I believed that Aurors were forbidden to use Unforgivables.'

Riddle just shrugged his shoulders indifferently and said nothing. It seemed that the moral aspects of that problem did not interest him much. Quite the opposite of what should have been, especially considering that it was Riddle who had been granted with questionable honour of preparing his graduation project on the Imperius Curse. Dumbledore recalled once again von Strommen's 'with small loses' and sighed.

'Would you be so kind as to leave me one of your crystals, Tom? It seems that I forgot the light.'

'Certainly, sir,' nodded Riddle and held out the lights.

Dumbledore took one; despite being quite bright, the crystal appeared to be very cold and unexpectedly heavy. Albus looked closer, trying to find out how the enchantment had been added; failed to understand it at first, and made the crystal go out and light up several times. Very good job, there's no denying it.

'I'll bring it back tomorrow,' said Albus.

Riddle said nothing again. He was not very talkative at all, nor was his temperament vivid or feelings deep. Not that it was something bad, but after the first encounter with Riddle in the orphanage Albus expected a somewhat different sort of behaviour. In Hogwarts the boy was much more composed than back then; it was as if something had died inside him. Albus wondered why it was so. Riddle always believed himself to be very special; so, maybe as he had managed to prove it, he had nothing to strive for? Pity, if that was true; Dumbledore thought that a really talented person – and there was no doubt that Riddle was extremely talented – just could not be such a mechanical doll.

Dumbledore often questioned himself why he disliked Riddle so much. With the exception of the first, rather unpleasant, impression that they both had of each other, there were no reasons for such attitude. Riddle was a perfect student, probably the most brilliant Hogwarts ever known - and, after all, he was not a bad person. Probably, sometimes too secretive and not very sincere, but, at least, he had not been as arrogant as the majority of other Slytherins. And the other common slytherinish qualities, such as cunning and ambition, were present just moderately, never having forced Riddle to do something utterly indecent or dishonourable. Dumbledore had to admit that even in Hagrid's case Tom behaved not without dignity: he could have chosen just to report that Rubeus had a dangerous pet, but instead he had decided to confront him openly and try to persuade…

But no matter how hard Albus tried to persuade himself, Tom Riddle left in him an impression of something wrong and flawed – as a creature most perfect, but at the same time somehow deprived of its very essence.

'How's your project going?' asked Dumbledore and took another book from the table.

It appeared to be the work of Claudius Slagg-Smogg, a famous historian of the last century, which was entitled "The Great Parting". Albus, having come across this book before, had got through only half of it: unpleasant and too realistic descriptions of barbarities of 1672 were simply loathing.

'Very good, thank you, sir,' Riddle was watching closely as Dumbledore leafed through the pages, and was looking rather nervous.

'Mmm,' nodded Dumbledore, putting Slagg-Smogg aside, and reached out for the next book. 'Ah! "The Irreversible Spells of Higher Transfiguration"!'

That book he wrote himself about ten years ago. His colleagues alchemists, aggrieved with his choice of subject, passed Albus's work over with silence in a rather pointed manner; and the rest of the wizarding scientific society praised him with but two scanty reviews, in which the book was blamed for its impracticality and for over-complexity of the formulas. After such a failure, Dumbledore gave up his alchemic studies for more than five years – partially because of his dissatisfaction with the results, partially because of simple stubbornness – and dedicated his efforts exclusively to transfiguration; so in the course of time he even began to teach it here, at Hogwarts… A fateful book, what to say. He never imagined that someone of his students would have a desire to read it, or at least had known about its existence.

'Something's not right, professor?'

Dumbledore woke up from his memories.

'No, everything is all right, Tom. It is just –' Albus looked at Riddle estimatingly, trying to guess what he'd found in this unknown monograph. The boy answered that look with seemingly empty inexpressive gaze, and Dumbledore immediately lost any intention to ask something.

'Very interesting book,' said Riddle politely and, after a brief silence, added: 'And explanations are very clear and easy to follow'.

Well, that just could not be true. Is he mocking him? Albus winced and bend his head with distrust. How he wished his Legilimency skills were just a bit stronger! But no; it was impossible to use it against a student – even against an unpleasant one, such as Tom Riddle.

'So… May I go, sir?' asked Riddle, visibly feeling uncomfortable.

'Oh, but of course,' said Dumbledore, as if suddenly recollected, 'Go. Good night, Tom. Watch your step at the staircases: it seems that house elves have tried too hard with the blackout.'

'No need to worry; I'm used to it. Good night, sir,' with that words Riddle threw the last (rather regretful) glance at his books and headed for the exit.

Dumbledore waited till the door closed behind the boy and then start his search for 'Quests and Wonders'.

He found the book rather quickly, and immediately was surprised to see that it was somewhat thin: as far as he remembered, library catalogue stated that it had more than a thousand pages. However, having briefly flicked through it, Dumbledore found that the book is seriously damaged. Someone seemed to rip off several dozens of pages, and not long ago. Albus frowned: somehow such vandalism reminded him of recent attacks. He could not say for sure that there was indeed a connection between those two things; but something was telling him that it was quite possible. His suppositions became even stronger as he discovered that the chapter with the Legend had suffered the same fate as the other disappeared pages.

Dumbledore could not overcome his disappointment. And he had hoped that he was close to – not to success, but at least to finding something. Such an unfortunate day; all the time it looked as if someone was trying to stop him. Albus sighed, ordering himself not to become upset. It might have been just coincidence, after all. The pages might have been torn off ages ago. It was still worthwhile to ask Binns about that, though. And about this other person who had been interested in the legend. Pity that it was too late, Albus thought, or he'd go to Binns at once.

Anyway, better take counsel with your pillow now. Of course, tomorrow morning would break this series of misfortunes. Having that in mind, Albus Dumbledore pocketed the light crystal and departed.

But the first thing Dumbledore got to know when he'd entered the Great Hall the next day, was that Professor Binns, the old history of magic teacher, had died in his sleep this very morning, while sitting in front of the staff room fire.

As always - thank you, my not numerous but faithful readers!