第 28 页

him back.

"Let me go!" Harry snarled, tugging.

With a loud ripping noise, his bag split in two. His books, wand,

parchment, and quill spilled onto the floor and his ink bottle smashed

over everything.

Harry scrambled around, trying to pick it all up before the dwarf

started singing, causing something of a holdup in the corridor.

*237*

"What's going on here?" came the cold, drawling voice of Draco

Malfoy. Harry started stuffing everything feverishly into his ripped

bag, 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, Harry 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 Harry's ankles. "Here is your singing

valentine:

His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad,

His hair is as dark as a blackboard.

I wish he was mine, he's really divine,

The hero who conquered the Dark Lord

Harry would have given all the gold in Gringotts to evaporate on the

spot. Trying valiantly to laugh along with everyone else, 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-"

203

Harry, glancing over, saw Malfoy stoop and snatch up something.

Leering, he showed it to Crabbe and Goyle, and Harry realized that

he'd got Riddle's diary.

"Give that back," said Harry quietly.

"Wonder what Potter's written in this?" said Malfoy, who obvi

* 238

ously hadn't noticed the year on the cover and thought he had

Harry's own diary. A hush fell over the onlookers. Ginny was staring

from the diary to Harry, looking terrified.

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

"When I've had a look," said Malfoy, waving the diary tauntingly at

Harry.

Percy said, "As a school prefect -" but Harry had lost his temper. He

pulled out his wand and shouted, "Expelliarmus!" and just as

Snape had disarmed Lockhart, so Malfoy found the diary shooting

out of his hand into the air. Ron, grinning broadly, caught it.

"Harry!" said Percy loudly. "No magic in the corridors. I'll have to

report this, you know!"

But Harry didn't care, he was one-up on Malfoy, and that was worth

five points from Gryffindor any day. Malfoy was looking furious, and

as Ginny passed him to enter her classroom, he yelled spitefully after

her, "I don't think Potter liked your valentine much!"

Ginny covered her face with her hands and ran into class. Snarling,

Ron pulled out his wand, too, but Harry pulled him away. Ron didn't

need to spend the whole of Charms belching slugs.

It wasn't until they had reached Professor Flitwick's class that Harry

noticed something rather odd about Riddle's diary. All his other

books were drenched in scarlet ink. The diary, however, was as

clean as it had been before the ink bottle had smashed all over it. He

tried to point this out to Ron, but Ron was having trouble with his

204

wand again; large purple bubbles were blossoming out of the end,

and he wasn't much interested in anything else.

Harry went to bed before anyone else in his dormitory that night. This

was partly because he didn't think he could stand Fred and George

singing, "His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad" one more time,

and partly because he wanted to examine Riddle's diary again, and

knew that Ron thought he was wasting his time.

Harry 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.

The ink shone brightly on the paper for a second and then, as though it

was being sucked into the page, vanished. Excited, Harry loaded up

his quill a second time and wrote, "My name is Harry Potter."

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 Harry

had never written.

"Hello, Harry Potter. My name is Tom Riddle. How did you come by my

diary?"

These words, too, faded away, but not before Harry had started to

scribble back.

"Someone tried to flush it down a toilet."

He waited eagerly for Riddle's reply.

"Lucky that I recorded my memories in some more lasting way than ink.

But I always knew that there would be those who would not want this

diary read. "

"What do you mean?" Harry scrawled, blotting the page in his

excitement.

*240*

205

`I mean that this diary holds memories of terrible things. Things that were

covered up. Things that happened at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and

Wizardry. "

"That's where I am now," Harry 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 whod 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 thegirl 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. "

Harry 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. "

Harry 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

*241*

growing dark. When he looked back at the diary, he saw fresh words

forming.

206

"Let me show you. "

Harry paused for a fraction of a second and then wrote two letters.

(40K.55

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,

Harry saw that the little square for June thirteenth seemed to have

turned into a miniscule 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, fraillooking wizard, bald

except for a few wisps of white hair, was reading a letter by

candlelight. Harry had never seen this man before.

"I'm sorry," he said shakily. "I didn't mean to butt in -"

But the wizard didn't look up. He continued to read, frowning slightly.

Harry drew nearer to his desk and stammered, "Er - I'll just go, shall

I?"

Still the wizard ignored him. He didn't seem even to have heard him.

Thinking that the wizard might be deaf, Harry raised his voice.

*242*

"Sorry I disturbed you. I'll go now," he half-shouted.

The wizard folded up the letter with a sigh, stood up, walked past

Harry without glancing at him, and went to draw the curtains at his

window.

207

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.

Harry 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, Harry, 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

Harry, but he, too, 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 Dipper 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. "Id much rather stay at Hogwarts than go

back to that - to that -"

* 243*

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

Dippet curiously.

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

208

"You are Muggle-born?"

"Half-blood, sir," said 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."

Dipper 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 Harry's heart

leapt, and he moved closer, scared of missing 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.

But Harry was sure it was the same sort of "no" that he himself had

given Dumbledore.

*244*

Dippet sank back, looking faintly disappointed.

209

"You may go, Tom ......

Riddle slid off his chair and slouched out of the room. Harry

followed him.

Down the moving spiral staircase they went, emerging next to the

gargoyle in the darkening corridor. Riddle stopped, and so did

Harry, watching him. Harry 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 with long,

sweeping auburn hair and a beard called to Riddle from the marble

staircase.

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

Harry gaped at the wizard. He was none other than a fifty-yearyounger Dumbledore.

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

"Well, hurry off to bed," said Dumbledore, giving Riddle exactly the

kind of penetrating stare Harry knew so 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 Harry in hot

pursuit.

But to Harry's disappointment, Riddle led him not into a hidden

passageway or a secret tunnel but to the very dungeon in which

Harry had Potions with Snape. The torches hadn't been lit, and when

Riddle pushed the door almost closed, Harry could only just

*2 45 *

see him, standing stock-still by the door, watching the passage outside.

210

It felt to Harry 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 Harry 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