Chapter Fifteen

It was the beginning of February, and Harry still hadn't gotten rid of the diary. He couldn't explain it but he felt like the book was his friend and he felt safe when he had it with him. He hadn't told his friends, they wouldn't understand and Daphne had made her feelings about the book very clear and Pansy agreed with her.

Harry was sitting in Charms bored out of his mind trying his best to stay awake.

"And if I hear one single request for a love spell or a love potion! That person will be force fed a rather powerful emetic instead. Just because it's nearly Valentines day does not mean rules have changed! Magic is not a toy and love potions are dangerous things!" Flitwick told them sternly.

Harry wasn't listening. He was fed up of people steering clear of him, evidence of which was the fact that he and his friends had the entire row of seats to themselves. There was also no one sitting directly behind him, or in front.

He shook his head and tried to focus on his lesson. Exams were looming and he felt even more behind than he did last year. He and Hermione had barely spoken and lack of exam prep only brought that fact back to him. Harry missed her company.

It was late that night when Harry was tossing and turning in his bed. Crabbe and Goyle were snoring loud enough to wake the dead and Harry felt like his head was going to explode. He sat up and roughly pulled on his dressing gown and slippers.

He grabbed the diary and headed downstairs. It was late, past three in the morning, so no one else was awake and the common room was deadly quiet.

He took a seat at one of the desks and tapped the oil lamp with his wand to turn light it, casting a flickering glow over the wrinkled pages of the diary. Despite having being soaked it had survived remarkably well. Harry wasn't sure why but he picked up a quill and let a drop of ink fall onto the page.

It stayed for a second before vanishing into the paper. Harry turned the page over to see if it had just soaked through, but it was completely gone. He dipped the quill into the ink again and wrote clearly,

My name is Harry Potter.

The ink disappeared after just a few seconds. Then something even more strange happened, new words appeared.

Hello Harry Potter, my name is Tom Riddle. How did you come by my diary?

Harry read over the words before they faded as well.

Someone tried to get rid of it.

Harry wrote.

Well it's a good job I recorded my memories in something other and more lasting than ink. I always knew that one day there would be someone who didn't wish my diary read.

Why? Why would someone try and get rid of your diary?

Because Harry, my diary holds memories of terrible things. Things that were covered up. Things that happened here, at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

That's what's happening now! I'm here and horrible, awful things are happening. Do you know something about the Chamber of Secrets?

Riddle's reply came quickly with messy writing as if someone was trying to write very quickly.

Of course I know about the Chamber of Secrets. In my day it was a myth, a legend with no truth in it. This was a lie. In my fifth year of school the Chamber was opened, the monster released. It attacked several students and it's reign of terror was only ended when it killed a girl. I caught the villain and turned him in, he was expelled. However the headmaster Professor Dippet was so embarrassed by the event, that it could happen under his watchful gaze, he covered it up. They gave me a shiny trophy and told me to keep my mouth shut! The girl's death was past off as a freak accident. Her parents never knew the truth. The monster lives and the person responsible was never punished.

Harry sat back and took several deep breaths. Sure Dumbledore wasn't headmaster at the time but he was still a teacher and he helped cover it up. Every hair on the back of his neck was standing on end.

It's happening again. You have to tell me who it was last time. Please help me no one has a clue who is hurting everyone.

I can show you if you like. So you can see through my eyes, I'll show you my memory of the night I caught him. You'll have to believe me then.

Harry stopped, everything his parents, his uncles, the Malfoys, Tonks and everyone else had ever told him said this was a bad idea. But the thought of someone getting hurt because he didn't look, he didn't take the chance to find out was too strong.

Let me show you.

Harry took a deep breath.

OK.

Harry jumped back as the pages started to flick through as if blown by a strong wind. It stopped at mid June, and a tiny little window, like a television screen, opened up on the thirteenth. Harry took a deep breath and leant forward. He felt himself fall slightly and was pulled from the bed. (44)

He landed on the floor of a large circular office. He knew it was Dumbledore's but, somehow, it wasn't. Slight differences in the decoration and there was no Fawks, no Dumbledore either. Instead an unknown Professor sat at the large desk going over some papers.

"Sorry Sir." Harry said but the teacher didn't reply, "Hello?" he couldn't here Harry. This was Riddle's Hogwarts and Harry knew he could have no effect on the ghosts of fifty years ago.

There was a sharp knock on the door.

"Come in." The head master called. The door opened and in walked a young boy of around fifteen, sixteen. Harry was struck by how alike they looked, he was almost identical to the pictures he'd seen of James at that age. Same dark eyes and unruly dark hair, same air of arrogance as well.

"Ah Riddle, please sit." The headmaster said gesturing to the chair before him.

Riddle sat down and waited for the Professor to speak.

"I've just been reading your letter Tom."

"Have you sir? What do you think Professor Dippet?" Riddle asked sitting forward.

"I'm sorry Tom, there really is nothing I can do. You can't stay here over the summer holidays. Don't you want to go home?" Professor Dippet said with a sigh.

"No, no I don't want to go back to...to that place. Please Professor." Riddle begged.

"You stay in a Home yes? An orphanage?"

Riddle nodded, "Yes."

"You're muggle born?" Dippet asked.

Why does it matter? Harry thought to himself, if he could, he would have given the headmaster a good slap. Whatever differences his parents and Dumbledore had at least Dumbledore would never have asked such questions, especially when someone was upset.

Riddle shook his head, "I'm a half-blood. Sir."

"What about your parents?" Dippet asked.

"My mother died when I was born, my father had...no interest. I've never met him." Riddle said tensely.

"Well maybe one day you will have the chance. I am sorry Tom, if things were different then maybe we could make other arrangements for you but with the current circumstances…."

"You mean the attacks sir?" Riddle asked, clutching his hands together tightly.

Professor Dippet nodded and sighed. Harry looked over him, he must have been the same age as Dumbledore was in the present but he looked older, more worn out, there was no spark in his eyes. He had only a small about of very fine grey hair and looked as though he was about to fall asleep at any moment.

"I'm afraid that if the attacks don't stop they'll be closing down the school." Dippet said.

Riddle looked shocked, "Forever? No, sir, they can't!"

"They might have to. Especially after that poor girl." Dippet shook his head.

"Sir..." Riddle began.

Dippet looked up and sat forward, "Do you know something? Tom?"

Tom thought for a few moments before shaking his heads, "No. No sir I don't."

Harry was sure he wasn't being completely truthful as Harry himself hadn't been to Dumbledore earlier in the year.

Dippet sighed and slumped back against his chair, "Very well Tom, you may go. I am sorry I couldn't help you more."

Riddle nodded and left the room quickly. Harry followed him down past the gargoyle and down the corridor. Riddle paused for a few moments in a quiet corner and paced. He was clearly thinking about something, he came to a decision and marched off.

He was far taller than Harry who had to half jog to keep up.

"Tom!" A familiar voice shouted. Harry looked up to see a familiar face. Dumbledore, fifty years younger, with long, still auburn hair, stood on the staircase. His eyes boring through Riddle.

"Yes Professor?" Riddle asked, tensing up.

"What are you out at this time of night? It's not safe to be wondering the corridors at the moment." Dumbledore said.

"Yes Sir, I know." Riddle gave a tense smile, "I was just seeing the headmaster."

"Of course." Dumbledore said, "Well hurry onto bed, there's a good lad."

Riddle hurried off down a hall Harry knew, the one to the Slytherin common room. He stopped though and ducked into an empty classroom. He stood there for over an hour, peering out the door. Harry was less than impressed and growing rather bored when Riddle finally left the room.

He moved swiftly through the corridors and stopped outside another classroom. Harry listened to the strange noises coming from inside the room.

"You gotta ge' in the box."

"Hagrid?" Harry whispered to himself, even though he knew no one could hear him.

"Please Aragog, they think it's you! Killin' tha' girl." Hagrid said urgently.

Riddle threw open the door and pointed his wand at the huge slumped figure of a young Hagrid. Hagrid turned around and shielded what looked like a large, sturdy wooden box.

"I'm sorry Hagrid but I have to turn you in." Riddle said.

"What? It weren' 'im you know tha'!" Hagrid pleaded.

"A girl is dead Hagrid. Her parents will be arriving tomorrow, the least that Hogwarts can do is make sure the monster that killed their daughter is slaughtered!" Riddle snapped, his nostrils flaring, "Now stand aside."

Riddle sent a flash of sparks at the box. Harry screamed and pressed himself against the wall as a huge spider the size of a large dog hurtled past him in a flurry of black furry legs and glinting dark eyes.

Riddle sent a flash of red light at the spider but missed and it scuttled out of view with Hagrid chasing out after him. Harry pressed against the wall and caught his breath. The world swirled about him and he found himself back at his desk in the still empty common room.

Harry felt his mind swirl, he couldn't even find a single question to focus on his brain felt so full. It couldn't be Hagrid and why did Tom look so much like his father? The common room was dark and painfully quiet compared to the vision. He could think and needed to clear his head.

He made his way up to bed and climbed gratefully under the warm blankets and fell into a fitful sleep.