Emma Potter

43: Heir of Slytherin

"What do you mean?" I scrawled, blotting the page in excitement. 

"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," I wrote quickly. "I'm at Hogwarts, and horrible stuff's been happening. Do you know anything about the Chamber of Secrets?" My 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 who'd 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 the girl 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." 

I nearly upset my ink bottle in my 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." I hesitated, my quill suspended over the diary. What did Riddle mean? How could I be be taken inside somebody else's memory? I glanced nervously at the door to the dormitory, which was growing dark. When I looked back at the diary, he saw freshwords forming."Let me show you." I paused for a fraction of a second and then wrote twoletters."OK." 

The pages of the diary began to blow as though caught in a highwind, stopping halfway through the month of June. Mouth hanging open, I saw that the little square for June thirteenthseemed to have turned into a minuscule television screen. my hands trembling slightly, I raised the book to press my eye againstthe little window, and before I knew what was happening, I wastilting forward; the window was widening, I felt my body leave my bed, and he was pitched headfirst through the opening in the page,into a whirl of color and shadow. I felt my feet hit solid ground, and stood, shaking, as theblurred shapes around me came suddenly into focus.

 I knew immediately where I was. This circular room with thesleeping portraits was Dumbledore's office — but it wasn'tDumbledore who was sitting behind the desk. A wizened, frail looking wizard, bald except for a few wisps of white hair, was reading a letter by candlelight. I had never seen this man before."I'm sorry," I said shakily. "I didn't mean to butt in —"But the wizard didn't look up. He continued to read, frowningslightly. I drew nearer to his desk and stammered, "Er — I'lljust go, shall I?"Still the wizard ignored me. He didn't seem even to have heard me.

Maybe no one could hear me.

The sky outside the window was ruby-red; it seemed to be sunset. The wizard went back to the desk, sat down, and twiddled histhumbs, watching the door. I looked around the office. No Fawkes the phoenix — nowhirring silver contraptions. This was Hogwarts as Riddle hadknown it, meaning that this unknown wizard was headmaster, notDumbledore, and I 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 tallerthan Me."Ah, Riddle," said the headmaster. 

"You wanted to see me, Professor Dippet?" said Riddle. Helooked nervous. 

"Sit down," said Dippet. "I've just been reading the letter yousent me."