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pass the dungeon where he and Riddle were hidden. Riddle, quiet as a

shadow, edged through the door and followed, Harry tiptoeing 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."

4 6

"N" at 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 -"

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"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 Harry 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, "NO000000!"

The scene whirled, the darkness became complete; Harry felt himself

falling and, with a crash, he landed spread-eagled on his four-poster

in the Gryffindor dormitory, Riddle's diary lying open on his stomach.

*24 7*

Before he had had time to regain his breath, the dormitory door

opened and Ron came in.

"There you are," he said.

Harry sat up. He was sweating and shaking.

"What's up?" said Ron, looking at him with concern.

"It was Hagrid, Ron. Hagrid opened the Chamber of Secrets fifty

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years ago."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione had always known that Hagrid had an

unfortunate liking for large and monstrous creatures. During their first

year at Hogwarts he had tried to raise a dragon in his little wooden

house, and it would be a long time before they forgot the giant, three-

headed dog he'd christened "Fluffy." And if, as a boy, Hagrid had

heard that a monster was hidden somewhere in the castle, Harry was

sure he'd have gone to any lengths for a glimpse of it. He'd probably

thought it was a shame that the monster had been cooped up so

long, and thought it deserved the chance to stretch its many legs;

Harry could just imagine the thirteen-year-old Hagrid trying to fit a

leash and collar on it. But he was equally certain that Hagrid would

never have meant to kill anybody.

Harry half wished he hadn't found out how to work Riddle's diary.

Again and again Ron and Hermione made him recount what

he'd seen, until he was heartily sick of telling them and sick of the

long, circular conversations that followed.

"Riddle might have got the wrong person," said Hermione. "Maybe it

was some other monster that was attacking people . . . ."

"How many monsters d'you think this place can hold?" Ron asked

dully.

"We always knew Hagrid had been expelled," said Harry miserably.

"And the attacks must've stopped after Hagrid was kicked out.

Otherwise, Riddle wouldn't have got his award."

Ron tried a different tack.

"Riddle does sound like Percy - who asked him to squeal on Hagrid,

anyway?"

"But the monster had killed someone, Ron," said Hermione.

"And Riddle was going to go back to some Muggle orphanage if they

closed Hogwarts," said Harry. "I don't blame him for wanting to stay

here ......

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"You met Hagrid down Knockturn Alley, didn't you, Harry?"

"He was buying a Flesh-Eating Slug Repellent," said Harry quickly.

The three of them fell silent. After a long pause, Hermione voiced the

knottiest question of all in a hesitant voice.

"Do you think we should go and ask Hagrid about it all?"

"That'd be a cheerful visit," said Ron. "'Hello, Hagrid. Tell us, have

you been setting anything mad and hairy loose in the castle lately?"'

In the end, they decided that they would not say anything to Hagrid

unless there was another attack, and as more and more days went by

with no whisper from the disembodied voice, they became

hopeful that they would never need to talk to him about why he had

been expelled. It was now nearly four months since Justin and Nearly

Headless Nick had been Petrified, and nearly everybody seemed to

think that the attacker, whoever it was, had retired for good. Peeves

had finally got bored of his "Oh, Potter, you rotter" song, Ernie

Macmillan asked Harry quite politely to pass a bucket of leaping

toadstools in Herbology one day, and in March several of the

Mandrakes threw a loud and raucous party in greenhouse three. This

made Professor Sprout very happy.

"The moment they start trying to move into each other's pots, we'll

know they're fully mature," she told Harry. "Then we'll be able to

revive those poor people in the hospital wing."

The second years were given something new to think about during

their Easter holidays. The time had come to choose their subjects for

the third year, a matter that Hermione, at least, took very seriously.

"it could affect our whole future," she told Harry and Ron as they

pored over lists of new subjects, marking them with checks.

"I just want to give up Potions," said Harry.

"We can't," said Ron gloomily. "We keep all our old subjects, or I'd've

ditched Defense Against the Dark Arts."

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"But that's very important!" said Hermione, shocked.

"Not the way Lockhart teaches it," said Ron. "I haven't learned

anything from him except not to set pixies loose."

Neville Longbottom had been sent letters from all the witches and

wizards in his family, all giving him different advice on what to

choose. Confused and worried, he sat reading the subject lists with

his tongue poking out, asking people whether they thought Arithmancy

sounded more difficult than the study of Ancient Runes. Dean

Thomas, who, like Harry, had grown up with Muggles, ended up

closing his eyes and jabbing his wand at the list, then picking the

subjects it landed on. Hermione took nobody's advice but signed up for

everything.

Harry smiled grimly to himself at the thought of what Uncle Vernon

and Aunt Petunia would say if he tried to discuss his career in

wizardry with them. Not that he didn't get any guidance: Percy

Weasley was eager to share his experience.

"Depends where you want to go, Harry," he said. "It's never too early

to think about the future, so Id recommend Divination. People say

Muggle Studies is a soft option, but I personally think wizards should

have a thorough understanding of the non-magical community,

particularly if they're thinking of working in close contact with them

look at my father, he has to deal with Muggle business all the time. My

brother Charlie was always more of an outdoor type, so he went for

Care of Magical Creatures. Play to your strengths, Harry."

But the only thing Harry felt he was really good at was Quidditch. In

the end, he chose the same new subjects as Ron, feeling that if he was

lousy at them, at least he'd have someone friendly to help him.

Gryffindor's next Quidditch match would be against Hufflepuff. Wood

was insisting on team practices every night after dinner, so that Harry

barely had time for anything but Quidditch and homework. However,

the training sessions were getting better, or at least

drier, and the evening before Saturday's match he went up to his

dormitory to drop off his broomstick feeling Gryffindor's chances for

the Quidditch cup had never been better.

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But his cheerful mood didn't last long. At the top of the stairs to the

dormitory, he met Neville Longbottom, who was looking frantic.

"Harry - I don't know who did it - I just found -"

Watching Harry fearfully, Neville pushed open the door.

The contents of Harry's trunk had been thrown everywhere. His

cloak lay ripped on the floor. The bedclothes had been pulled off his

four-poster and the drawer had been pulled out of his bedside

cabinet, the contents strewn over the mattress.

Harry walked over to the bed, open-mouthed, treading on a few

loose pages of Travels with Trolls. As he and Neville pulled the

blankets back onto his bed, Ron, Dean, and Seamus came in. Dean

swore loudly.

"What happened, Harry?"

"No idea," said Harry. But Ron was examining Harry's robes. All the

pockets were hanging out.

"Someone's been looking for something," said Ron. "Is there anything

missing?"

Harry started to pick up all his things and throw them into his trunk.

It was only as he threw the last of the Lockhart books back into it

that he realized what wasn't there.

"Riddle's diary's gone," he said in an undertone to Ron.

"What?"

Harry jerked his head toward the dormitory door and Ron followed

him out. They hurried down to the Gryffindor common

room, which was half-empty, and joined Hermione, who was sitting

alone, reading a book called Ancient Runes Made Easy.

Hermione looked aghast at the news.

216

"But - only a Gryffindor could have stolen - nobody else knows our

password -"

"Exactly," said Harry.

They woke the next day to brilliant sunshine and a light, refreshing

breeze.

"Perfect Quidditch conditions!" said Wood enthusiastically at the

Gryffindor table, loading the team's plates with scrambled eggs.

"Harry, buck up there, you need a decent breakfast."

Harry had been staring down the packed Gryffindor table, wondering

if the new owner of Riddle's diary was right in front of his eyes.

Hermione had been urging him to report the robbery, but Harry didn't

like the idea. He'd have to tell a teacher all about the diary, and how

many people knew why Hagrid had been expelled fifty years ago? He

didn't want to be the one who brought it all up again.

As he left the Great Hall with Ron and Hermione to go and collect his

Quidditch things, another very serious worry was added to Harry's

growing list. He had just set foot on the marble staircase when he

heard it yet again

"Kill this time ... let me rip ... tear. . ."

He shouted aloud and Ron and Hermione both jumped away from him

in alarm.

"The voice!" said Harry, -looking over his shoulder. "I just heard it

again - didn't you?"

Ron shook his head, wide-eyed. Hermione, however, clapped a

hand to her forehead.

"Harry - I think I've just understood something! I've got to go to the

library!"

And she sprinted away, up the stairs.

"What does she understand?" said Harry distractedly, still looking

around, trying to tell where the voice had come from.

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"Loads more than I do," said Ron, shaking his head.

"But why's she got to go to the library?"

"Because that's what Hermione does," said Ron, shrugging. "When in

doubt, go to the library."

Harry stood, irresolute, trying to catch the voice again, but people

were now emerging from the Great Hall behind him, talking loudly,

exiting through the front doors on their way to the Quidditch pitch.

"You'd better get moving," said Ron. "It's nearly eleven - the match

"

Harry raced up to Gryffindor Tower, collected his Nimbus Two

Thousand, and joined the large crowd swarming across the grounds,

but his mind was still in the castle along with the bodiless voice, and

as he pulled on his scarlet robes in the locker. room, his only comfort

was that everyone was now outside to watch the game.

The teams walked onto the field to tumultuous applause. Oliver

Wood took off for a warm-up flight around the goal posts; Madam

Hooch released the balls. The Hufflepuffs, who played in canary

yellow, were standing in a huddle, having a last-minute discussion of

tactics.

Harry was just mounting his broom when Professor McGonagall

came half marching, half running across the pitch, carrying an

enormous purple megaphone.

Harry's heart dropped like a stone.

"This match has been cancelled," Professor McGonagall called