"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."
"Oh," said Riddle. He sat down, gripping his hands togethervery tightly.
"My dear boy," said Dippet kindly, "I cannot possibly let youstay at school over the summer. Surely you want to go home for theholidays?"
"No," said Riddle at once. "I'd much rather stay at Hogwartsthan go back to that — to that —"
"You live in a Muggle orphanage during the holidays, I believe?"said Dippet curiously.
"Yes, sir," said Riddle, reddening slightly.
"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 theorphanage she lived just long enough to name me — Tom after myfather, Marvolo after my grandfather."
Dippet clucked his tongue sympathetically."The thing is, Tom," he sighed, "special arrangements mighthave been made for you, but in the current circumstances. . . ."
"You mean all these attacks, sir?" said Riddle, and my heartleapt, and I moved closer, scared of missing anything."Precisely," said the headmaster.
"My dear boy, you must seehow foolish it would be of me to allow you to remain at the castlewhen term ends. Particularly in light of the recent tragedy . . . thedeath 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 nowtalking 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 somethingabout these attacks?""No, sir," said Riddle quickly.
Dippet sank back, looking faintly disappointed."You may go, Tom. . . ."
Riddle slid off his chair and slouched out of the room. I followed him.Down the moving spiral staircase they went, emerging next tothe gargoyle in the darkening corridor. Riddle stopped, and sodid Harry, watching him. I could tell that Riddle was doingsome serious thinking. He was biting his lip, his forehead furrowed.
Then, as though he had suddenly reached a decision, he hurriedoff, Me gliding noiselessly behind him. We didn't see anotherperson until they reached the entrance hall, when a tall wizard withlong, sweeping auburn hair and a beard called to Riddle from themarble staircase."What are you doing, wandering around this late, Tom?" I 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 I knew so well.
"Best not toroam 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 Mein hot pursuit.But to my disappointment, Riddle led me not into a hidden passageway or a secret tunnel but to the very dungeon in whichwe had Potions with Snape. The torches hadn't been lit, andwhen Riddle pushed the door almost closed, I could only just see him, standing stock-still by the door, watching the passage outside.
It felt to me that we were there for at least an hour. All Icould see was the figure of Riddle at the door, staring through thecrack, waiting like a statue. And just when I had stopped feeling expectant and tense and started wishing he could return to thepresent, I heard something move beyond the door.Someone was creeping along the passage. I heard whoever itwas pass the dungeon where he and Riddle were hidden. Riddle,quiet as a shadow, edged through the door and followed, me tiptoeing behind him, forgetting that I couldn't be heard.For perhaps five minutes we followed the footsteps, until Riddle stopped suddenly, his head inclined in the direction of newnoises. I heard a door creak open, and then someone speakingin a hoarse whisper."C'mon . . . gotta get yeh outta here. . . . C'mon now . . . in thebox . . ."
There was something familiar about that voice. . . .
Riddle suddenly jumped around the corner. I steppedout behind him. I could see the dark outline of a huge boywho was crouching in front of an open door, a very large box nextto 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."
Hagrid.
"What d'yeh —"
"I don't think you meant to kill anyone. But monsters don'tmake good pets. I suppose you just let it out for exercise and —"
"It never killed no one!" said the Hagridbacking against theclosed door. From behind him, I could hear a funny rustlingand clicking."Come on, Rubeus," said Riddle, moving yet closer. "The deadgirl's parents will be here tomorrow. The least Hogwarts can do ismake sure that the thing that killed their daughter is slaughtered. . . ."
"It wasn't him!" roared Hagrid, his voice echoing in the darkpassage. "He wouldn'! He never!"
"Stand aside," said Riddle, drawing out his wand.
His spell lit the corridor with a sudden flaming light. The doorbehind the large boy flew open with such force it knocked him intothe wall opposite. And out of it came something that made Harrylet out a long, piercing scream unheard by anyone —A vast, low-slung, hairy body and a tangle of black legs; a gleamof many eyes and a pair of razor-sharp pincers — Riddle raised hiswand again, but he was too late.
The thing bowled him over as itscuttled away, tearing up the corridor and out of sight. Riddlescrambled to his feet, looking after it; he raised his wand, but thehuge boy leapt on him, seized his wand, and threw him back down,yelling, "NOOOOOOO!"
The scene whirled, the darkness became complete; I felthimself falling and, with a crash, he landed spread-eagled on myfour-poster in the slytherin dormitory, Riddle's diary lying openon my stomach.
Hagrid had opened the Chamber of secrets?