The Other Potter Book Two

Chapter Twenty Seven: Riddle Me This

We stood at the end of a long, dimly lit chamber.

I could feel my heart beating forcefully against my chest. Could the basilisk be lurking in a shadowy corner, behind a pillar? And where was Ginny? 

“Try not to die, Willow. For God’s sake.” Lucy murmured.

“Stop distracting me then!”

We pulled out our wands and moved forward between the twisting columns. Every careful footstep echoed loudly off the shadowy walls. Then, as we drew level with the last pair of pillars, a statue high as the Chamber itself loomed into view, standing against the back wall. 

I craned my neck to look up into the giant face above: It was ancient and monkey-like, with a long, thin beard that fell almost to the bottom of the wizard's stone robes, where two gray feet stood on the smooth Chamber floor. And between the feet, facedown, lay a small, black-robed figure with flaming-red hair. 

"Ginny!" Harry muttered.

I tried to run toward her, but both of my legs gave way.

"You alright?" Harry said unable to keep the fear out of his quiet voice.

"I'm fine," I lied as pain seared through my legs. "Go to Ginny."

He ran toward her and dropped to his knees. 

"Ginny - don't be dead - please don't be dead -" He flung his wand aside, grabbed Ginny's shoulders, and turned her over. Even from the distance I was at, you could tell Ginny looked dead.

"Ginny, please wake up," Harry muttered desperately, shaking her. 

Ginny's head lolled hopelessly from side to side. 

"She won't wake," said a soft voice. 

Harry jumped and spun around on his knees.

I looked up and realised that this tall, black-haired boy had not noticed me.

He was leaning against the nearest pillar, watching. He was strangely blurred around the edges.

"Tom - Tom Riddle." Harry said slowly. Riddle nodded, not taking his eyes off Harry's face. 

"What d'you mean, she won't wake?" Harry said desperately. "She's not - she's not -."

"She's still alive," said Riddle. "But only just."

I stared at him. Tom Riddle had been at Hogwarts fifty years ago, yet here he stood, a weird, misty light shining about him, not a day older than sixteen. 

"Are you a ghost?" Harry said uncertainly. 

"A memory," said Riddle quietly. "Preserved in a diary for fifty years.”

He pointed toward the floor near the statue's giant toes. Lying open there was the little black diary we had found in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.  

"You've got to help me, Tom," Harry said, raising Ginny's head again. 

"We've got to get her out of here. There's a basilisk ... I don't know where it is, but it could be along any moment ... Please, help me."

Riddle didn't move and I had a freaky feeling that he was evil.

The same thing I’d felt when writing to him. There was something up, but I didn’t know what.

I started a chant in my head that would hopefully pass into Harry. "Please don't acknowledge me." I said in my mind. "Don't mention I'm here. I'm the surprise he will freak about."

Harry bent to pick up his wand again but his wand had gone. 

"Did you see -?" He looked up. Riddle was still watching him - twirling Harry's wand between his long fingers. Strange, I didn't see Riddle bend over to pick it up.