Hermione remained in the hospital wing for several weeks. There was a flurry of rumor about her disappearance when the rest of the school arrived back from their Christmas holidays, because of course everyone thought that she had been attacked.
So many students filed past the hospital wing trying to catch a glimpse of her that Madam Pomfrey took out her curtains again and placed them around Hermione's bed, to spare her the shame of being seen with a furry face.
Almost every night during this time I had awoken lying in the bathroom floor with the diary next to me, and I was starting to get sick of it.
I had a strange feeling that there was something dark about this book, and finally I decided I had had enough. Pushing open the door to moaning Myrtle's bathroom I chucked it in as hard as I could before sprinting back to the dungeons.
And yet I had this horrid feeling. I felt as though I had thrown away a part of me, I still felt so strongly attached to the diary. It was starting to worry me.
...
Harry, Ron, and I went to visit Hermione every evening, and when the new term started, we brought her each day's homework.
"If I'd sprouted whiskers, I'd take a break from work," said Ron, tipping a stack of books onto Hermione's bedside table one evening.
"Don't be silly, Ron, I've got to keep up," said Hermione briskly. Her spirits were greatly improved by the fact that all the hair had gone from her face and her eyes were turning slowly back to brown.
"I don't suppose you've got any new leads?" she added in a whisper, so that Madam Pomfrey couldn't hear her.
"Nothing," said Harry gloomily.
"I was so sure it was Malfoy," said Ron, for about the hundredth time.
"What's that?" asked Harry, pointing to something gold sticking out from under Hermione's pillow.
"Just a get well card," said Hermione hastily, trying to poke it out of sight, but Ron was too quick for her. He pulled it out, flicked it open, and read aloud:
"To Miss Granger, wishing you a speedy recovery, from your concerned teacher, Professor Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League, and five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award."
"Oh my god he even has to brag about himself in a get well soon card." I said in disgust.
"You sleep with this under your pillow?" Ron said.
But Hermione was spared answering by Madam Pomfrey sweeping over with her evening dose of medicine.
"Is Lockhart the smarmiest bloke you've ever met, or what?" Ron said to Harry as we left the infirmary and started up the stairs toward Gryffindor Tower.
Snape had given us so much homework, I wasn't sure how I was going to finish it all. Ron was just saying he wished he had asked Hermione how many rat tails you were supposed to add to a Hair Raising Potion when an angry outburst from the floor above reached their ears.
"That's Filch," Harry muttered as we hurried up the stairs and paused, out of sight, listening hard.
"You don't think someone else's been attacked?" said Ron tensely.
We stood still, our heads inclined toward Flich's voice, which sounded quite hysterical.
"Even more work for me! Mopping all night, like I haven't got enough to do! No, this is the final straw, I'm going to Dumbledore —"
His footsteps receded along the out-of-sight corridor and we heard a distant door slam.
We poked their heads around the corner. Filch had clearly been manning his usual lookout post: we were once again on the spot where Mrs. Norris had been attacked.
We saw at a glance what Filch had been shouting about. A great flood of water stretched over half the corridor, and it looked as though it was still seeping from under the door of Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.
Now that Filch had stopped shouting, we could hear Myrtle's wails echoing off the bathroom walls.
"Now what's up with her?" said Ron.
"Let's go and see," said Harry, and holding his robes over his ankles be stepped through the great wash of water to the door bearing its OUT OF ORDER sign.
"Maybe we shouldn't!" I said quickly, realizing what was causing this water. It must've been the diary I'd thrown in there.
But Harry ignored me and entered anyway with Ron following behind him, and me begrudgingly bringing up the rear.
Moaning Myrtle was crying, if possible, louder and harder than ever before. She seemed to be hiding down her usual toilet. It was dark in the bathroom because the candles had been extinguished in the great rush of water that had left both walls and floor soaking wet.
"What's up, Myrtle?" said Harry.
"Who's that?" glugged Myrtle miserably.
"Come to throw something else at me?"
Harry waded across to her stall and said, "Why would I throw something at you?"
"Don't ask me," Myrtle shouted, emerging with a wave of yet more water, which splashed onto the already sopping floor. "Here I am, minding my own business, and someone thinks it's funny to throw a book at me..."
I could feel my heart beating rapidly, it was close. The diary. I could feel it, it was calling out to me, I could feel it with every beat of my heart. I could hear it call out to me faintly, begging me to write in it again, begging for me to let it in.
"But it can't hurt you if someone throws something at you," said Harry, reasonably. "I mean, it'd just go right through you, wouldn't it?"
He had said the wrong thing. Myrtle puffed herself up and shrieked, "Let's all throw books at Myrtle, because she can't feel it! Ten points if you can get it through her stomach! Fifty points if it goes through her head! Well, ha, ha, ha! What a lovely game, I don't think!"
"Who threw it at you, anyway?" asked Harry.
"I don't know... I was just sitting in the U-bend, thinking about death, and it fell right through the top of my head," said Myrtle, glaring at them. "It's over there, it got washed out..."
Harry and Ron looked under the sink where Myrtle was pointing. A small, thin book lay there. Harry stepped forward to pick it up, but Ron suddenly flung out an arm to hold him back.
"What?" said Harry.
"Are you crazy?" said Ron. "It could be dangerous."
"Dangerous?" said Harry, laughing. "Come off it, how could it be dangerous?"
"You'd be surprised," said Ron, who was looking apprehensively at the book. "Some of the books the Ministry's confiscated Dad's told me — there was one that burned your eyes out. And everyone who read Sonnets of a Sorcerer spoke in limericks for the rest of their lives. And some old witch in Bath had a book that you could never stop reading! You just had to wander around with your nose in it, trying to do everything one-handed. And —"
"All right, I've got the point," said Harry. "Well, we won't find out unless we look at it," he said, and he ducked around Ron and picked it up off the floor.
"Harry don't!" I cried to him, I could feel dark things emanating off of it, as if it was trying to draw me in, as if it wanted me. My heart was pounding harder than it ever had before, the voice getting louder and louder.
Save me (Y/n), let me in, so lonely, so cold.
Harry ignored me and opened it eagerly.
"Hang on," said Ron, who had approached cautiously and was looking over Harry's shoulder. "I know that name... T. M. Riddle got an award for special services to the school fifty years ago."
"How on earth d'you know that?" said Harry in amazement.
"Because Filch made me polish his shield about fifty times in detention," said Ron resentfully. "That was the one I burped slugs all over. If you'd wiped slime off a name for an hour, you'd remember it, too."
I could barley hear them now over the sound of my heart pounding. "Just leave it!" I practically shouted at them.
You need me (Y/n) I can show you things, I can teach you magic beyond your belief, beyond your wildest imagination.
The two of them looked at me bewildered. "Are you alright?" Ron asked me quietly, as Harry flipped through the pages.
"He never wrote in it," said Harry, disappointed.
"I wonder why someone wanted to flush it away?" said Ron curiously.
"Probably because it's dangerous!" I said frantically. "I... I think we should destroy it - take it to Dumbledore - just get rid of it!"
NO!
I staggered back slightly at the sound of the voice, catching myself on the sink.
"(Y/n) are you alright?" Ron asked running over to me. I nodded quickly pushing him off of me.
"He must've been Muggle-born," said Harry thoughtfully. "To have bought a diary from Vauxhall Road..."
"Well, it's not much use to you," said Ron. He dropped his voice. "Fifty points if you can get it through Myrtle's nose."
Harry, however, pocketed it.
"Harry don't please, please just listen to me." I begged him. He told me he would get rid of it as soon as he could.
...
Hermione left the hospital wing, de-whiskered, tail-less, and furfree, at the beginning of February. On her first evening back in Gryffindor Tower, Harry showed her T. M. Riddle's diary and told her the story of how he had found it.
"I thought you said you'd get rid of it!" I said to him.
"Look it could have information about the chamber." Harry said to me.
Let me in (Y/n), I can make you stronger, so much stronger.
"Oooh, it might have hidden powers," said Hermione enthusiastically, taking the diary and looking at it closely.
"It could be dangerous!" The others looked at me puzzled, and I could see why it was out of character for me to be this uptight about something.
"If it has, it's hiding them very well," said Ron. "Maybe it's shy. I don't know why you don't chuck it, Harry."
"Yeah, yeah listen to Ron." I said eagerly.
Your friends don't care about you. They won't even listen to you.
"I wish I knew why someone did try to chuck it," said Harry. "I wouldn't mind knowing how Riddle got an award for special services to Hogwarts either."
"Maybe they chucked it because it was empty and useless." I suggested.
Think of the magic I can teach you (Y/n). The questions I could answer.
"Could've been anything," said Ron. "Maybe he got thirty O.W.L.s or saved a teacher from the giant squid. Maybe he murdered Myrtle; that would've done everyone a favor..."
"What?" said Ron, looking from one to the other.
"Well, the Chamber of Secrets was opened fifty years ago, wasn't it?" he said. "That's what Malfoy said."
"Yeah..." said Ron slowly.
"And this diary is fifty years old," said Hermione, tapping it excitedly.
"So?"
"Oh, Ron, wake up," snapped Hermione. "We know the person who opened the Chamber last time was expelled fifty years ago. We know T. M. Riddle got an award for special services to the school fifty years ago. Well, what if Riddle got his special award for catching the Heir of Slytherin?
"His diary would probably tell us everything — where the Chamber is, and how to open it, and what sort of creature lives in it — the person who's behind the attacks this time wouldn't want that lying around, would they?"
"That's a brilliant theory, Hermione," said Ron, "with just one tiny little flaw. There's nothing written in his diary."
"And since there's nothing in it we should just get rid of it!" I told them.
I can show you so so much (Y/n). I could make you so powerful. I could give you what you want.
But Hermione was pulling her wand out of her bag. "It might be invisible ink!" she whispered. She tapped the diary three times and said, "Aparecium!"
I could help you make your mum proud of you. Help her see you're not a failure that you're more than just a Slytherin.
Nothing happened. Undaunted, Hermione shoved her hand back into her bag and
pulled out what appeared to be a bright red eraser.
"It's a Revealer, I got it in Diagon Alley," she said.
She rubbed hard on January first. Nothing happened.
Just take me back, let me in (Y/n). Let me in!
"I'm telling you, there's nothing to find in there," said Ron. "Riddle just got a diary for Christmas and couldn't be bothered filling it in."
...
The next day at break, Harry headed for the trophy room to examine Riddle's special award, accompanied by an interested Hermione, a thoroughly unconvinced Ron, and me who was still hearing the siren call of the diary.
Riddle's burnished gold shield was tucked away in a corner cabinet. It didn't carry details of why it had been given to him ("Good thing, too, or it'd be even bigger and I'd still be polishing it," said Ron).
However, they did find Riddle's name on an old Medal for Magical Merit, and on a list of old Head Boys.
"He sounds like Percy," said Ron, wrinkling his nose in disgust. "Prefect, Head Boy... probably top of every class —"
I can help you be the top of your classes. I know you're jealous of Hermione's talent, I could help you be better than her.
I shook my head trying to get rid of the voice. How did it know that? How did it know I was jealous of Hermione, I'd never told anyone that.
The sun had now begun to shine weakly on Hogwarts again. Inside the castle, the mood had grown more hopeful. There had been no more attacks since those on Justin and Nearly Headless Nick, and Madam Pomfrey was pleased to report that the Mandrakes were becoming moody and secretive, meaning that they were fast leaving childhood.
Perhaps the Heir of Slytherin had lost his or her nerve, I thought. It must be getting riskier and riskier to open the Chamber of Secrets, with the school so alert and suspicious. Perhaps the monster, whatever it was, was even now settling itself down to hibernate for another fifty years...
Ernie Macmillan of Hufflepuff didn't take this cheerful view. He was still convinced that Harry was the guilty one, that he had "given himself away" at the Dueling Club. Peeves wasn't helping matters; he kept popping up in the crowded corridors singing
"Oh, Potter, you rotter..." now with a dance routine to match.
Gilderoy Lockhart seemed to think he himself had made the attacks stop. I had even overheard him telling Professor McGonagall so while the we were lining up for Transfiguration.
"I don't think there'll be any more trouble, Minerva," he said, tapping his nose knowingly and winking. "I think the Chamber has been locked for good this time. The culprit must have known it was only a matter of time before I caught him. Rather sensible to stop now, before I came down hard on him.
"You know, what the school needs now is a morale-booster. Wash away the memories of last term! I won't say any more just now, but I think I know just the thing..."
He tapped his nose again and strode off.
Lockhart's idea of a morale-booster became clear at breakfast time on February fourteenth. I had been feeling weak every morning now, sometimes so weak I couldn't get out of bed.
Because of this I was late heading to the Great Hall and thought I had entered the wrong room. The walls were all covered with large, lurid pink flowers. Worse still, heart-shaped confetti was falling from the pale blue ceiling. I hurried over to the Gryffindor table, where Ron was sitting looking sickened, Harry looked bewildered, and Hermione seemed to have been overcome with giggles.
"What's going on?" I asked them, sitting down.
Ron pointed to the teachers' table, apparently too disgusted to speak. Lockhart, wearing lurid pink robes to match the decorations, was waving for silence.
The teachers on either side of him were looking stony-faced. From where I sat, U could see a muscle going in Professor McGonagall's cheek. Snape looked as though someone had just fed him a large beaker of SkeleGro.
"Happy Valentine's Day!" Lockhart shouted. "And may I thank the forty-six people who have so far sent me cards! Yes, I have taken the liberty of arranging this little surprise for you all — and it doesn't end here!"
Lockhart clapped his hands and through the doors to the entrance hall marched a dozen surlylooking dwarfs. Not just any dwarfs, however. Lockhart had them all wearing golden wings and carrying harps.
"My friendly, card-carrying cupids!" beamed Lockhart. "They will be roving around the school today delivering your valentines! And the fun doesn't stop here! I'm sure my colleagues will want to enter into the spirit of the occasion!
"Why not ask Professor Snape to show you how to whip up a Love Potion! And while you're at it, Professor Flitwick knows more about Entrancing Enchantments than any wizard I've ever met, the sly old dog!"
Professor Flitwick buried his face in his hands. Snape was looking as though the first person to ask him for a Love Potion would be force-fed poison.
"Please, Hermione, tell me you weren't one of the forty-six," said Ron as they left the Great Hall for their first lesson. Hermione suddenly became very interested in searching her bag for her schedule and didn't answer.
All day long, the dwarfs kept barging into their classes to deliver valentines, to the annoyance of the teachers, and late that afternoon as the Gryffindors were walking upstairs for Charms, one of the dwarfs caught up with Harry.
"Oy, you! 'Arry Potter!" shouted a particularly grim-looking dwarf, elbowing people out of the way to get to Harry.
He tried to escape, however I was quicker, grabbing him around the waist and wrestling him to the floor.
"He's over here!" I called to the dwarf.
"I've got a musical message to deliver to 'Arry Potter in person," he said, twanging his harp in a threatening sort of way.
"Not here," Harry hissed, trying to escape. I pinned him to the ground.
"Stay still!" grunted the dwarf.
"Let me go!" Harry snarled, as I grabbed his bag to get a better grip, with Harry tugging back against me.
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.
I quickly got off of him, looking longingly at the diary that had fallen to the ground
Save me (Y/n) let me in. Let me live!
Harry scrambled around, trying to pick it all up before the dwarf started singing, causing something of a holdup in the corridor.
"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
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 —"
I saw Malfoy stoop and snatch up something. Leering, he showed it to Crabbe and Goyle, and I realized that he'd got Tom's diary.
I suddenly had a stronge urge to curse Malfoy and take the diary from him, my wand wavered in my hand, I didn't even realized I had pulled it out.
"Give that back," said Harry quietly.
"Wonder what Potter's written in this?" said Malfoy, who obviously 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 I suddenly lost it.
"Patellum Revertum!" I cried, it was the spell Tom had taught me. Malfoy let out a cry of pain as both of his kneecaps were reverted, he tried to take a step, but his knees folded the other way causing him to fall to the ground.
"(Y/n)!" said Percy loudly. "No magic in the corridors. I'll have to report this, you know! Where did you even learn that!"
But I just pushed past Percy toward Ron who was picking the diary up from the ground. "I'll have to take ten points from Slytherin for that!"
Percy called at me.
"Give it here!" I hissed at Ron, he looked at me confused, as I was speaking parseltongue, but let out a yelp of surprise when he saw my face. I snatched the diary form his hands, and began to walk away feeling powerful, feeling better than I had in weeks. Feeling whole again.
"(Y/n)!" Harry called after me, I turned quickly to glare at him, and he took a step backwards. "(Y/n) your eyes." He said quietly.
The look of concern on Harry's face was all it took to bring me to my sense. I was suddenly aware of what I had done, cursing Malfoy, snarling at Ron.
"I...I'm sorry." I said quickly shoving the book into his hands and hurrying off to charms, people hurrying towards the sides of the halls as I passed them.