CHAPTER 12-13

They stepped off the stone staircase at the top, and Professor
McGonagall rapped on the door. It opened silently and they entered.
Professor McGonagall told Harry to wait and left him there, alone.
Harry looked around. One thing was certain: of all the teachers'
offices Harry had visited so far this year, Dumbledore's was by far
the most interesting. If he hadn't been scared out of his wits that he
was about to be thrown out of school, he would have been very
pleased to have a chance to look around it.
It was a large and beautiful circular room, full of funny little noises. A
number of curious silver instruments stood on spindlelegged tables,
whirring and emitting little puffs of smoke. The walls were covered
with portraits of old headmasters and headmistresses, all of whom
were snoozing gently in their frames. There was also an enormous,
claw-footed desk, and, sitting on a shelf behind it, a shabby, tattered
wizard's hat - the Sorting Hat.
Harry hesitated. He cast a wary eye around the sleeping witches and
wizards on the walls. Surely it couldn't hurt if he took the hat down
and tried it on again? Just to see ... just to make sure it had put him in
the right House
He walked quietly around the desk, lifted the hat from its shelf, and
lowered it slowly onto his head. It was much too large and slipped
down over his eyes, just as it had done the last time he'd put it on.
Harry stared at the black inside of the hat, waiting. Then a small voice
said in his ear, "Bee in your bonnet, Harry Potter?"
"Er, yes," Harry muttered. "Er - sorry to bother you - I wanted to ask -"
"You've been wondering whether I put you in the right House," said
the hat smartly. "Yes ... you were particularly difficult to place. But I
stand by what I said before" - Harry's heart leapt - "you would have
done well in Slytherin -"
Harry's stomach plummeted. He grabbed the point of the hat and
pulled it off. It hung limply in his hand, grubby and faded. Harry
pushed it back onto its shelf, feeling sick.
"You're wrong," he said aloud to the still and silent hat. It didn't move.
Harry backed away, watching it. Then a strange, gagging noise behind
him made him wheel around.
He wasn't alone after all. Standing on a golden perch behind the door
was a decrepit-looking bird that resembled a half-plucked turkey.
Harry stared at it and the bird looked balefully back, making its
gagging noise again. Harry thought it looked very ill. Its eyes were dull
and, even as Harry watched, a couple more feathers fell out of its tail.
Harry was just thinking that all he needed was for Dumbledore's
pet bird to die while he was alone in the office with it, when the bird
burst into flames.
Harry yelled in shock and backed away into the desk. He looked
feverishly around in case there was a glass of water somewhere but
couldn't see one; the bird, meanwhile, had become a fireball; it gave
one loud shriek and next second there was nothing but a smouldering
pile of ash on the floor.
The office door opened. Dumbledore came in, looking very somber.
"Professor," Harry gasped. "Your bird - I couldn't do anything - he just
caught fire -"
To Harry's astonishment, Dumbledore smiled.
"About time, too," he said. "He's been looking dreadful for days; I've
been telling him to get a move on."
He chuckled at the stunned look on Harry's face.
"Fawkes is a phoenix, Harry. Phoenixes burst into flame when it is
time for them to die and are reborn from the ashes. Watch him . . ."
Harry looked down in time to see a tiny, wrinkled, newborn bird poke
its head out of the ashes. It was quite as ugly as the old one.
"It's a shame you had to see him on a Burning Day," said Dumbledore,
seating himself behind his desk. "He's really very handsome most of
the time, wonderful red and gold plumage. Fascinating creatures,
phoenixes. They can carry immensely heavy loads, their tears have
healing powers, and they make highly faithful pets."
In the shock of Fawkes catching fire, Harry had forgotten what he
was there for, but it all came back to him as Dumbledore settled
himself in the high chair behind the desk and fixed Harry with his
penetrating, light-blue stare.
Before Dumbledore could speak another word, however, the door of
the office flew open with an almighty bang and Hagrid burst in, a wild
look in his eyes, his balaclava perched on top of his shaggy black head
and the dead rooster still swinging from his hand.
"It wasn' Harry, Professor Dumbledore!" said Hagrid urgently. "I was
talkin' ter him seconds before that kid was found, he never had time, sir -
"
Dumbledore tried to say something, but Hagrid went ranting on,
waving the rooster around in his agitation, sending feathers
everywhere.
"- it can't've bin him, I'll swear it in front o' the Ministry o' Magic if I
have to -"
"Hagrid, I -"
"- yeh've got the wrong boy, sir, I know Harry never ='
"Hagrid!" said Dumbledore loudly. "I do not think that Harry
attacked those people."
"Oh," said Hagrid, the rooster falling limply at his side. "Right. I'll wait
outside then, Headmaster."
And he stomped out looking embarrassed.
"You don't think it was me, Professor?" Harry repeated hopefully as
Dumbledore brushed rooster feathers off his desk.
"No, Harry, I don't," said Dumbledore, though his face was somber
again. "But I still want to talk to you."
Harry waited nervously while Dumbledore considered him, the tips of
his long fingers together.
"I must ask you, Harry, whether there is anything you'd like to tell me,"
he said gently. "Anything at all."
Harry didn't know what to say. He thought of Malfoy shouting, "You'll
be next, Mudbloods!" and of the Polyjuice Potion simmering away in
Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. Then he thought of the disembodied
voice he had heard twice and remembered what Ron had said:
"Hearing voices no one else can hear isn't a good sign, even in the
wizarding world." He thought, too, about what everyone was saying
about him, and his growing dread that he was somehow connected
with Salazar Slytherin ....
"No," said Harry. "There isn't anything, Professor . . . ."
The double attack on Justin and Nearly Headless Nick turned what
had hitherto been nervousness into real panic. Curiously, it was Nearly
Headless Nick's fate that seemed to worry people most. What could
possibly do that to a ghost? people asked each other; what terrible
power could harm someone who was already dead? There was
almost a stampede to book seats on the Hogwarts Express so that
students could go home for Christmas.
"At this rate, we'll be the only ones left," Ron told Harry and
Hermione. "Us, Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle. What a jolly holiday it's
going to be."
Crabbe and Goyle, who always did whatever Malfoy did, had signed
up to stay over the holidays, too. But Harry was glad that most people
were leaving. He was tired of people skirting around him in the
corridors, as though he was about to sprout fangs or spit poison; tired
of all the muttering, pointing, and hissing as he passed.
Fred and George, however, found all this very funny. They went out of
their way to march ahead of Harry down the corridors, shouting,
"Make way for the Heir of Slytherin, seriously evil wizard coming
through ......
Percy was deeply disapproving of this behavior.
"It is not a laughing matter," he said coldly.
"Oh, get out of the way, Percy," said Fred. "Harry's in a hurry."
"Yeah, he's off to the Chamber of Secrets for a cup of tea with his
fanged servant," said George, chortling.
Ginny didn't find it amusing either.
"Oh, don't," she wailed every time Fred asked Harry loudly who he
was planning to attack next, or when George pretended to ward Harry
off with a large clove of garlic when they met.
Harry didn't mind; it made him feel better that Fred and George, at
least, thought the idea of his being Slytherin's heir was quite ludicrous.
But their antics seemed to be aggravating Draco Malfoy, who looked
increasingly sour each time he saw them at it.
"It's because he's bursting to say it's really him," said Ron knowingly.
"You know how he hates anyone beating him at anything, and you're
getting all the credit for his dirty work."
"Not for long," said Hermione in a satisfied tone. "The Polyjuice
Potion's nearly ready. We'll be getting the truth out of him any day
now."
At last the term ended, and a silence deep as the snow on the grounds
descended on the castle. Harry found it peaceful, rather than gloomy,
and enjoyed the fact that he, Hermione, and the Weasleys had the run
of Gryffindor Tower, which meant they could
play Exploding Snap loudly without bothering anyone, and practice
dueling in private. Fred, George, and Ginny had chosen to stay at
school rather than visit Bill in Egypt with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.
Percy, who disapproved of what he termed their childish behavior,
didn't spend much time in the Gryffindor common room. He had
already told them pompously that he was only staying over Christmas
because it was his duty as a prefect to support the teachers during
this troubled time.
Christmas morning dawned, cold and white. Harry and Ron, the only
ones left in their dormitory, were woken very early by Hermione,
who burst in, fully dressed and carrying presents for them both.
"Wake up," she said loudly, pulling back the curtains at the window.
"Hermione - you're not supposed to be in here -" said Ron, shielding
his eyes against the light.
"Merry Christmas to you, too," said Hermione, throwing him his
present. "I've been up for nearly an hour, adding more lacewings to
the potion. It's ready."
Harry sat up, suddenly wide awake.
"Are you sure?"
"Positive," said Hermione, shifting Scabbers the rat so that she could
sit down on the end of Ron's four-poster. "If we're going to do it, I
say it should be tonight."
At that moment, Hedwig swooped into the room, carrying a very
small package in her beak.
"Hello," said Harry happily as she landed on his bed. "Are you
speaking to me again?"
She nibbled his ear in an affectionate sort of way, which was a far
better present than the one that she had brought him, which turned
out to be from the Dursleys. They had sent Harry a toothpick and a
note telling him to find out whether he'd be able to stay at Hogwarts
for the summer vacation, too.
The rest of Harry's Christmas presents were far more satisfactory.
Hagrid had sent him a large tin of treacle fudge, which Harry decided
to soften by the fire before eating; Ron had given him a book called
Flying with the Cannons, a book of interesting facts about his favorite
Quidditch team, and Hermione had bought him a luxury eagle-feather
quill. Harry opened the last present to find a new, hand-knitted
sweater from Mrs. Weasley and a large plum cake. He read her card
with a fresh surge of guilt, thinking about Mr. Weasley's car (which
hadn't been seen since its crash with the Whomping Willow), and the
bout of rule-breaking he and Ron were planning next.
No one, not even someone dreading taking Polyjuice Potion later,
could fail to enjoy Christmas dinner at Hogwarts.
The Great Hall looked magnificent. Not only were there a dozen
frost-covered Christmas trees and thick streamers of holly and
mistletoe crisscrossing the ceiling, but enchanted snow was falling,
warm and dry, from the ceiling. Dumbledore led them in a few of his
favorite carols, Hagrid booming more and more loudly with every
goblet of eggnog he consumed. Percy, who hadn't noticed that Fred
had bewitched his prefect badge so that it now read "Pinhead," kept
asking them all what they were sniggering at. Harry didn't even care
that Draco Malfoy was making loud, snide remarks
about his new sweater from the Slytherin table. With a bit of luck,
Malfoy would be getting his comeuppance in a few hours' time.
Harry and Ron had barely finished their third helpings of Christmas
pudding when Hermione ushered them out of the hall to finalize their
plans for the evening.
"We still need a bit of the people you're changing into," said
Hermione matter-of-facdy, as though she were sending them to the
supermarket for laundry detergent. "And obviously, it'll be best if you
can get something of Crabbe's and Goyle's; they're Malfoys best
friends, he'll tell them anything. And we also need to make sure the
real Crabbe and Goyle can't burst in on us while we're interrogating
him.
"I've got it all worked out," she went on smoothly, ignoring Harry's
and Ron's stupefied faces. She held up two plump chocolate cakes.
"I've filled these with a simple Sleeping Draught. All you have to do is
make sure Crabbe and Goyle find them. You know how greedy they
are, they're bound to eat them. Once they're asleep, pull out a few of
their hairs and hide them in a broom closet."
Harry and Ron looked incredulously at each other.
"Hermione, I don't think -"
"That could go seriously wrong -"
But Hermione had a steely glint in her eye not unlike the one
Professor McGonagall sometimes had.
"The potion will be useless without Crabbe's and Goyle's hair," she
said sternly. "You do want to investigate Malfoy, don't you?"
"Oh, all right, all right," said Harry. "But what about you? Whose hair
are you ripping out?"
"I've already got mine!" said Hermione brightly, pulling a tiny bottle
out of her pocket and showing them the single hair inside it.
"Remember Millicent Bulstrode wrestling with me at the Dueling
Club? She left this on my robes when she was trying to strangle me!
And she's gone home for Christmas - so I'll just have to tell the
Slytherins I've decided to come back."
When Hermione had bustled off to check on the Polyjuice Potion
again, Ron turned to Harry with a doom-laden expression.
"Have you ever heard of a plan where so many things could go
wrong?"
But to Harry's and Ron's utter amazement, stage one of the
operation went just as smoothly as Hermione had said. They lurked
in the deserted entrance hall after Christmas tea, waiting for Crabbe
and Goyle who had remained alone at the Slytherin table, shoveling
down fourth helpings of trifle. Harry had perched the chocolate
cakes on the end of the banisters. When they spotted Crabbe and
Goyle coming out of the Great Hall, Harry and Ron hid quickly
behind a suit of armor next to the front door.
"How thick can you get?" Ron whispered ecstatically as Crabbe
gleefully pointed out the cakes to Goyle and grabbed them. Grinning
stupidly, they stuffed the cakes whole into their large mouths. For a
moment, both of them chewed greedily, looks of triumph on their
faces. Then, without the smallest change of expression, they both
keeled over backward onto the floor.
By far the hardest part was hiding them in the closet across the hall.
Once they were safely stowed among the buckets and mops, Harry
yanked out a couple of the bristles that covered Goyle's fore
head and Ron pulled out several of Crabbe's hairs. They also stole
their shoes, because their own were far too small for Crabbe- and
Goyle-size feet. Then, still stunned at what they had just done, they
sprinted up to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.
They could hardly see for the thick black smoke issuing from the stall
in which Hermione was stirring the cauldron. Pulling their robes up
over their faces, Harry and Ron knocked softly on the door.
"Hermione?"
They heard the scrape of the lock and Hermione emerged, shinyfaced
and looking anxious. Behind her they heard the gloop gloop
of the bubbling, glutinous potion. Three glass tumblers stood ready on
the toilet seat.
"Did you get them?" Hermione asked breathlessly.
Harry showed her Goyle's hair.
"Good. And I sneaked these spare robes out of the laundry," Hermione
said, holding up a small sack. "You'll need bigger sizes once you're
Crabbe and Goyle."
The three of them stared into the cauldron. Close up, the potion looked
like thick, dark mud, bubbling sluggishly.
"I'm sure I've done everything right," said Hermione, nervously
rereading the splotched page of Moste Potente Potions. "It looks like the
book says it should ... once we've drunk it, we'll have exactly an hour
before we change back into ourselves."
"Now what?" Ron whispered.
"We separate it into three glasses and add the hairs."
Hermione ladled large dollops of the potion into each of the glasses.
Then, her hand trembling, she shook Millicent Bulstrode's hair out of
its bottle into the first glass.
The potion hissed loudly like a boiling kettle and frothed madly. A
second later, it had turned a sick sort of yellow.
"Urgh - essence of Millicent Bulstrode," said Ron, eyeing it with
loathing. "Bet it tastes disgusting."
"Add yours, then," said Hermione.
Harry dropped Goyle's hair into the middle glass and Ron put Crabbe's
into the last one. Both glasses hissed and frothed: Goyle's turned the
khaki color of a booger, Crabbe's a dark, murky brown.
"Hang on," said Harry as Ron and Hermione reached for their glasses.
"We'd better not all drink them in here .... Once we turn into Crabbe
and Goyle we won't fit. And Millicent Bulstrode's no pixie.
"Good thinking," said Ron, unlocking the door. "We'll take separate
stalls."
Careful not to spill a drop of his Polyjuice Potion, Harry slipped into
the middle stall.
"Ready?" he called.
"Ready," came Ron's and Hermione's voices.
"One - two - three -"
Pinching his nose, Harry drank the potion down in two large gulps. It
tasted like overcooked cabbage.
Immediately, his insides started writhing as though he'd just swallowed
live snakes - doubled up, he wondered whether he was going to be
sick - then a burning sensation spread rapidly from his stomach to the
very ends of his fingers and toes - next, bringing him gasping to all
fours, came a horrible melting feeling, as the skin all over his body
bubbled like hot wax - and before his eyes, his hands began to grow,
the fingers thickened, the nails broadened,
the knuckles were bulging like bolts -his shoulders stretched painfully
and a prickling on his forehead told him that hair was creeping down
toward his eyebrows - his robes ripped as his chest expanded like a
barrel bursting its hoops - his feet were agony in shoes four sizes too
small
As suddenly as it had started, everything stopped. Harry lay facedown
on the stone-cold floor, listening to Myrtle gurgling morosely in the end
toilet. With difficulty, he kicked off his shoes and stood up. So this was
what it felt like, being Goyle. His large hand trembling, he pulled off
his old robes, which were hanging a foot above his ankles, pulled on
the spare ones, and laced up Goyle's boatlike shoes. He reached up to
brush his hair out of his eyes and met only the short growth of wiry
bristles, low on his forehead. Then he realized that his glasses were
clouding his eyes because Goyle obviously didn't need them - he took
them off and called, "Are you two okay?" Goyle's low rasp of a voice
issued from his mouth.
"Yeah," came the deep grunt of Crabbe from his right.
Harry unlocked his door and stepped in front of the cracked mirror.
Goyle stared back at him out of dull, deepset eyes. Harry scratched
his ear. So did Goyle.
Ron's door opened. They stared at each other. Except that he looked
pale and shocked, Ron was indistinguishable from Crabbe, from the
pudding-bowl haircut to the long, gorilla arms.
"This is unbelievable," said Ron, approaching the mirror and prodding
Crabbe's flat nose. "Unbelievable. "
"We'd better get going," said Harry, loosening the watch that was
cutting into Goyle's thick wrist. "We've still got to find out
where the Slytherin common room is. I only hope we can find
someone to follow. . ."
Ron, who had been gazing at Harry, said, "You don't know how
bizarre it is to see Goyle thinking." He banged on Hermione's door.
"C'mon, we need to go -"
A high-pitched voice answered him.
"I - I don't think I'm going to come after all. You go on without me.
"Hermione, we know Millicent Bulstrode's ugly, no one's going to
know it's you -"
"No - really - I don't think I'll come. You two hurry up, you re
wasting time
Harry looked at Ron, bewildered.
"That looks more like Goyle," said Ron. "That's how he looks every
time a teacher asks him a question."
"Hermione, are you okay?" said Harry through the door.
"Fine - I'm fine - go on -"
Harry looked at his watch. Five of their precious sixty minutes had
already passed.
"We'll meet you back here, all right?" he said.
Harry and Ron opened the door of the bathroom carefully, checked
that the coast was clear, and set off.
"Don't swing your arms like that," Harry muttered to Ron.
"Eh?"
"Crabbe holds them sort of stiff . . . ."
"How's this?"
"Yeah, that's better . . . ."
They went down the marble staircase. All they needed now was
a Slytherin that they could follow to the Slytherin common room, but
there was nobody around.
"Any ideas?" muttered Harry.
"The Slytherins always come up to breakfast from over there," said
Ron, nodding at the entrance to the dungeons. The words had barely
left his mouth when a girl with long, curly hair emerged from the
entrance.
"Excuse me," said Ron, hurrying up to her. "We've forgotten the way
to our common room."
"I beg your pardon?" said the girl stiffly. "Our common room? I'm a
Ravenclaw."
She walked away, looking suspiciously back at them.
Harry and Ron hurried down the stone steps into the darkness, their
footsteps echoing particularly loudly as Crabbe's and Goyle's huge
feet hit the floor, feeling that this wasn't going to be as easy as they
had hoped.
The labyrinthine passages were deserted. They walked deeper and
deeper under the school, constantly checking their watches to see
how much time they had left. After a quarter of an hour, just when
they were getting desperate, they heard a sudden movement ahead.
"Ha!" said Ron excitedly. "There's one of them now!"
The figure was emerging from a side room. As they hurried nearer,
however, their hearts sank. It wasn't a Slytherin, it was Percy.
"What're you doing down here?" said Ron in surprise.
Percy looked affronted.
"That," he said stiffly, "is none of your business. It's Crabbe, isn't it?"
"Wh - oh, yeah," said Ron.
"Well, get off to your dormitories," said Percy sternly. "It's not safe to
go wandering around dark corridors these days."
"You are," Ron pointed out.
"I," said Percy, drawing himself up, "am a prefect. Nothing's about to
attack me."
A voice suddenly echoed behind Harry and Ron. Draco Malfoy was
strolling toward them, and for the first time in his life, Harry was
pleased to see him.
"There you are," he drawled, looking at them. "Have you two been
pigging out in the Great Hall all this time? I've been looking for you; I
want to show you something really funny."
Malfoy glanced witheringly at Percy.
"And what're you doing down here, Weasley?" he sneered.
Percy looked outraged.
"You want to show a bit more respect to a school prefect!" he said. "I
don't like your attitude!"
Malfoy sneered and motioned for Harry and Ron to follow him. Harry
almost said something apologetic to Percy but caught himself just in
time. He and Ron hurried after Malfoy, who said as they turned into
the next passage, "That Peter Weasley -"
"Percy," Ron corrected him automatically.
"Whatever," said Malfoy. "I've noticed him sneaking around a lot
lately. And I bet I know what he's up to. He thinks he's going to catch
Slytherin's heir single-handed."
He gave a short, derisive laugh. Harry and Ron exchanged excited
looks.
Malfoy paused by a stretch of bare, damp stone wall.
"What's the new password again?" he said to Harry.
"Er -" said Harry.
"Oh, yeah -pure-blood!" said Malfoy, not listening, and a stone door
concealed in the wall slid open. Malfoy marched through it, and
Harry and Ron followed him.
The Slytherin common room was a long, low underground room
with rough stone walls and ceiling from which round, greenish lamps
were hanging on chains. A fire was crackling under an elaborately
carved mantelpiece ahead of them, and several Slytherins were
silhouetted around it in high-backed chairs.
"Wait here," said Malfoy to Harry and Ron, motioning them to a pair
of empty chairs set back from the fire. "I'll go and get it my father's
just sent it to me -"
Wondering what Malfoy was going to show them, Harry and Ron
sat down, doing their best to look at home.
Malfoy came back a minute later, holding what looked like a
newspaper clipping. He thrust it under Ron's nose.
"That'll give you a laugh," he said.
Harry saw Ron's eyes widen in shock. He read the clipping quickly,
gave a very forced laugh, and handed it to Harry.
It had been clipped out of the Daily Prophet, and it said:
INQUIRY AT THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC
Arthur Weasley, Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office,
was today fined fifty Galleons for bewitching a Muggle car.
Mr. Lucius Malfoy, a governor of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft
and Wizardry, where the
enchanted car crashed earlier this year, called today for Mr.
Weasley's resignation.
"Weasley has brought the Ministry into disrepute," Mr. Malfoy told our
reporter. "He is clearly unfit to draw up our laws and his ridiculous
Muggle Protection Act should be scrapped immediately."
Mr. Weasley was unavailable for comment, although his wife told
reporters to clear off or she'd set the family ghoul on them.
"Well?" said Malfoy impatiently as Harry handed the clipping back to
him. "Don't you think it's funny?"
"Ha, ha," said Harry bleakly.
"Arthur Weasley loves Muggles so much he should snap his wand in
half and go and join them," said Malfoy scornfully. "You'd never know
the Weasleys were pure-bloods, the way they behave."
Ron's - or rather, Crabbe's - face was contorted with fury.
"What's up with you, Crabbe?" snapped Malfoy.
"Stomachache," Ron grunted.
"Well, go up to the hospital wing and give all those Mudbloods a kick
from me," said Malfoy, snickering. "You know, I'm surprised the Daily
Prophet hasn't reported all these attacks yet," he went on thoughtfully.
"I suppose Dumbledore's trying to hush it all up. He'll be sacked if it
doesn't stop soon. Father's always said old Dumbledore's the worst
thing that's ever happened to this place. He loves Muggle-borns. A
decent headmaster would never've let slime like that Creevey in."
Malfoy started taking pictures with an imaginary camera and did a
cruel but accurate impression of Colin: "`Potter, can I have your
picture, Potter? Can I have your autograph? Can I lick your shoes,
please, Potter?"'
He dropped his hands and looked at Harry and Ron.
"What's the matter with you two?"
Far too late, Harry and Ron forced themselves to laugh, but Malfoy
seemed satisfied; perhaps Crabbe and Goyle were always slow on
the uptake.
"Saint Potter, the Mudbloods' friend," said Malfoy slowly. "He's
another one with no proper wizard feeling, or he wouldn't go around
with that jumped up Granger Mudblood. And people think he's
Slytherin's heir!"
Harry and Ron waited with bated breath: Malfoy was surely seconds
away from telling them it was him - but then
"I wish I knew who it is," said Malfoy petulantly. "I could help them."
Ron's jaw dropped so that Crabbe looked even more clueless than
usual. Fortunately, Malfoy didn't notice, and Harry, thinking fast,
said, "You must have some idea who's behind it all ......
"You know I haven't, Goyle, how many times do I have to tell you?"
snapped Malfoy. "And Father won't tell me anything about the last
time the Chamber was opened either. Of course, it was fifty years
ago, so it was before his time, but he knows all about it, and he says
that it was all kept quiet and it'll look suspicious if I know too much
about it. But I know one thing - last time the Chamber of Secrets
was opened, a Mudblood died. So I bet it's a matter of time before
one of them's killed this time .... I hope it's Granger," he said with
relish.
Ron was clenching Crabbe's gigantic fists. Feeling that it would be a
bit of a giveaway if Ron punched Malfoy, Harry shot him a warning
look and said, "D'you know if the person who opened the Chamber
last time was caught?"
"Oh, yeah ... whoever it was was expelled," said Malfoy. "They're
probably still in Azkaban."
"Azkaban?" said Harry, puzzled.
"Azkaban - the wizard prison, Goyle," said Malfoy, looking at him in
disbelief "Honestly, if you were any slower, you'd be going
backward."
He shifted restlessly in his chair and said, "Father says to keep my
head down and let the Heir of Slytherin get on with it. He says the
school needs ridding of all the Mudblood filth, but not to get mixed
up in it. Of course, he's got a lot on his plate at the moment. You
know the Ministry of Magic raided our manor last week?"
Harry tried to force Goyle's dull face into a look of concern.
"Yeah. . ." said Malfoy. "Luckily, they didn't find much. Father's got
some very valuable Dark Arts stuff. But luckily, we've got our own
secret chamber under the drawing-room floor
-"
"Ho!" said Ron.
Malfoy looked at him. So did Harry. Ron blushed. Even his hair was
turning red. His nose was also slowly lengthening - their hour was
up, Ron was turning back into himself, and from the look of horror
he was suddenly giving Harry, he must be, too.
They both jumped to their feet.
"Medicine for my stomach," Ron grunted, and without further ado
they sprinted the length of the Slytherin common room, hurled
themselves at the stone wall, and dashed up the passage, hoping
against hope that Malfoy hadn't noticed anything. Harry
could feel his feet slipping around in Goyle's huge shoes and had to
hoist up his robes as he shrank; they crashed up the steps into the dark
entrance hall, which was full of a muffled pounding coming from the
closet where they'd locked Crabbe and Goyle. Leaving their shoes
outside the closet door, they sprinted in their socks up the marble
staircase toward Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.
"Well, it wasn't a complete waste of time," Ron panted, closing the
bathroom door behind them. "I know we still haven't found out who's
doing the attacks, but I'm going to write to Dad tomorrow and tell him
to check under the Malfoys' drawing room."
Harry checked his face in the cracked mirror. He was back to normal.
He put his glasses on as Ron hammered on the door of Hermione's
stall.
"Hermione, come out, we've got loads to tell you -"
"Go away!" Hermione squeaked.
Harry and Ron looked at each other.
"What's the matter?" said Ron. "You must be back to normal by now,
we are
But Moaning Myrtle glided suddenly through the stall door. Harry had
never seen her looking so happy.
"Ooooooh, wait till you see," she said. "It's awful-"
They heard the lock slide back and Hermione emerged, sobbing, her
robes pulled up over her head.
"What's up?" said Ron uncertainly. "Have you still got Millicent's nose
or something?"
Hermione let her robes fall and Ron backed into the sink.
Her face was covered in black fur. Her eyes had turned yellow and
there were long, pointed ears poking through her hair.
"It was a c-cat hair!" she howled. "M-Millicent Bulstrode
m-must have a cat! And the p-potion isn't supposed to be used for
animal transformations!"
"Uh-oh," said Ron.
"You'll be teased something dreadful," said Myrtle happily.
"It's okay, Hermione," said Harry quickly. "We'll take you up to the
hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey never asks too many questions ......
It took a long time to persuade Hermione to leave the bathroom.
Moaning Myrtle sped them on their way with a hearty guffaw. "Wait
till everyone finds out you've got a tail!"
ermione 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.
Harry and Ron went to visit her every evening. When the new term
started, they brought her each day's homework.
"If Id sprouted whiskers, Id 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. "
Ron looked up at Hermione, disgusted.
"You sleep with this under your pillow?"
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 they left the infirmary and started up the stairs
toward Gryffindor Tower. Snape had given them so much
homework, Harry thought he was likely to be in the sixth year before
he finished it. Ron was just saying he wished he had asked Hermione
how many rat tails you were supposed to add to a HairRaising
Potion when an angry outburst from the floor above reached their
ears.
"That's Filch," Harry muttered as they hurried up the stairs and
paused, out of sight, listening hard.
"You don't think someone else's been attacked?" said Ron tensely.
They stood still, their 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 they heard a
distant door slam.
They poked their heads around the corner. Filch had clearly been
manning his usual lookout post: They were once again on the spot
where Mrs. Norris had been attacked. They 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, they 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 their robes over their
ankles they stepped through the great wash of water to the door
bearing its OUT OF ORDER sign, ignored it as always, and entered.
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 ......
"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. It had a shabby black cover and was as
wet as everything else in the bathroom. 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.
The little book lay on the floor, nondescript and soggy.
"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 saw at once that it was a diary, and the faded year on the cover
told him it was fifty years old. He opened it eagerly. On the first page
he could just make out the name "T M. Riddle" in smudged ink.
"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."
Harry peeled the wet pages apart. They were completely blank.
There wasn't the faintest trace of writing on any of them, not even
Auntie Mabel's birthday, or dentist, half-past three.
"He never wrote in it," said Harry, disappointed.
"I wonder why someone wanted to flush it away?" said Ron curiously.
Harry turned to the back cover of the book and saw the printed name
of a variety store on Vauxhall Road, London.
"He must've been Muggle-born," said Harry thoughtfufly. "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.
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 they had found it.
"Oooh, it might have hidden powers," said Hermione enthusiastically,
taking the diary and looking at it closely.
"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."
"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."
"Could've been anything," said Ron. "Maybe he got thirty O.WL.s or
saved a teacher from the giant squid. Maybe he murdered Myrtle; that
would've done everyone a favor .....
But Harry could tell from the arrested look on Hermione's face that
she was thinking what he was thinking.
"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.
a 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."
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!"
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.
"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."
Harry couldn't explain, even to himself, why he didn't just throw
Riddle's diary away. The fact was that even though he knew the diary
was blank, he kept absentmindedly picking it up and turning the pages,
as though it were a story he wanted to finish. And while Harry was
sure he had never heard the name T. M. Riddle before, it still seemed
to mean something to him, almost as though
Riddle was a friend he'd had when he was very small, and had
halfforgotten. But this was absurd. He'd never had friends before
Hogwarts, Dudley had made sure of that.
Nevertheless, Harry was determined to find out more about Riddle, so
next day at break, he headed for the trophy room to examine Riddle's
special award, accompanied by an interested Hermione and a
thoroughly unconvinced Ron, who told them he'd seen enough of the
trophy room to last him a lifetime.
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 Id 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 -"
"You say that like it's a bad thing," said Hermione in a slightly hurt
voice.
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.
"The moment their acne clears up, they'll be ready for repotting again,"
Harry heard her telling Filch kindly one afternoon. "And after that, it
won't be long until we're cutting them up and stewing them. You'll
have Mrs. Norris back in no time."
Perhaps the Heir of Slytherin had lost his or her nerve, thought Harry.
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. Harry overheard him telling Professor McGonagall so while the
Gryffindors 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. Harry hadn't had much sleep because of a laterunning
Quidditch practice the night before, and he hurried down to
the Great Hall, slightly late. He thought, for a moment, that he'd
walked through the wrong doors.
The walls were all covered with large, lurid pink flowers. Worse

still, heart-shaped confetti was falling from the pale blue ceiling. Harry
went over to the Gryffindor table, where Ron was sitting looking
sickened, and Hermione seemed to have been overcome with giggles.
"What's going on?" Harry asked them, sitting down and wiping confetti
off his bacon.
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 he sat, Harry could see a muscle going in
Professor McGonagall's cheek. Snape looked as though someone had
just fed him a large beaker of Skele-Gro.
"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 surly-looking 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 look
ing 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, 51 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! 'Arty Potter!" shouted a particularly grim-looking dwarf,
elbowing people out of the way to get to Harry.
Hot all over at the thought of being given a valentine in front of a line
of first years, which happened to include Ginny Weasley, Harry tried
to escape. The dwarf, however, cut his way through the crowd by
kicking people's shins, and reached him before he'd gone two paces.
"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.
"Stay still!" grunted the dwarf, grabbing hold of Harry's bag and pulling
him back.
"Let me go!" Harry snarled, tugging.
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.
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
Harry would have given all the gold in Gringotts to evaporate on the
spot. Trying valiantly to laugh along with everyone else, he got up, his
feet numb from the weight of the dwarf, as 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-"
Harry, glancing over, saw Malfoy stoop and snatch up something.
Leering, he showed it to Crabbe and Goyle, and Harry realized that
he'd got Riddle's diary.
"Give that back," said Harry quietly.
"Wonder what Potter's written in this?" said Malfoy, who obvi
ously 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 Harry had lost his temper. He
pulled out his wand and shouted, "Expelliarmus!" and just as
Snape had disarmed Lockhart, so Malfoy found the diary shooting
out of his hand into the air. Ron, grinning broadly, caught it.
"Harry!" said Percy loudly. "No magic in the corridors. I'll have to
report this, you know!"
But Harry didn't care, he was one-up on Malfoy, and that was worth
five points from Gryffindor any day. Malfoy was looking furious, and
as Ginny passed him to enter her classroom, he yelled spitefully after
her, "I don't think Potter liked your valentine much!"
Ginny covered her face with her hands and ran into class. Snarling,
Ron pulled out his wand, too, but Harry pulled him away. Ron didn't
need to spend the whole of Charms belching slugs.
It wasn't until they had reached Professor Flitwick's class that Harry
noticed something rather odd about Riddle's diary. All his other
books were drenched in scarlet ink. The diary, however, was as
clean as it had been before the ink bottle had smashed all over it. He
tried to point this out to Ron, but Ron was having trouble with his
wand again; large purple bubbles were blossoming out of the end,
and he wasn't much interested in anything else.
Harry went to bed before anyone else in his dormitory that night. This
was partly because he didn't think he could stand Fred and George
singing, "His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad" one more time,
and partly because he wanted to examine Riddle's diary again, and
knew that Ron thought he was wasting his time.
Harry sat on his four-poster and flicked through the blank pages, not
one of which had a trace of scarlet ink on it. Then he pulled a new
bottle out of his bedside cabinet, dipped his quill into it, and dropped a
blot onto the first page of the diary.
The ink shone brightly on the paper for a second and then, as though it
was being sucked into the page, vanished. Excited, Harry loaded up
his quill a second time and wrote, "My name is Harry Potter."
The words shone momentarily on the page and they, too, sank without
trace. Then, at last, something happened.
Oozing back out of the page, in his very own ink, came words Harry
had never written.
"Hello, Harry Potter. My name is Tom Riddle. How did you come by my
diary?"
These words, too, faded away, but not before Harry had started to
scribble back.
"Someone tried to flush it down a toilet."
He waited eagerly for Riddle's reply.
"Lucky that I recorded my memories in some more lasting way than ink.
But I always knew that there would be those who would not want this
diary read. "
"What do you mean?" Harry scrawled, blotting the page in his
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," Harry wrote quickly. "I'm at Hogwarts, and
horrible stuff's been happening. Do you know anything about the
Chamber of Secrets?"
His 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 whod 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 thegirl 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. "
Harry nearly upset his ink bottle in his 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. "
Harry hesitated, his quill suspended over the diary. What did Riddle
mean? How could he be taken inside somebody else's memory? He
glanced nervously at the door to the dormitory, which was
growing dark. When he looked back at the diary, he saw fresh words
forming.
"Let me show you. "
Harry paused for a fraction of a second and then wrote two letters.
The pages of the diary began to blow as though caught in a high wind,
stopping halfway through the month of June. Mouth hanging open,
Harry saw that the little square for June thirteenth seemed to have
turned into a miniscule television screen. His hands trembling slightly,
he raised the book to press his eye against the little window, and
before he knew what was happening, he was tilting forward; the
window was widening, he felt his body leave his bed, and he was
pitched headfirst through the opening in the page, into a whirl of color
and shadow.
He felt his feet hit solid ground, and stood, shaking, as the blurred
shapes around him came suddenly into focus.
He knew immediately where he was. This circular room with the
sleeping portraits was Dumbledore's office - but it wasn't Dumbledore
who was sitting behind the desk. A wizened, fraillooking wizard, bald
except for a few wisps of white hair, was reading a letter by
candlelight. Harry had never seen this man before.
"I'm sorry," he said shakily. "I didn't mean to butt in -"
But the wizard didn't look up. He continued to read, frowning slightly.
Harry drew nearer to his desk and stammered, "Er - I'll just go, shall
I?"
Still the wizard ignored him. He didn't seem even to have heard him.
Thinking that the wizard might be deaf, Harry raised his voice.
"Sorry I disturbed you. I'll go now," he half-shouted.
The wizard folded up the letter with a sigh, stood up, walked past
Harry without glancing at him, and went to draw the curtains at his
window.
The sky outside the window was ruby-red; it seemed to be sunset.
The wizard went back to the desk, sat down, and twiddled his thumbs,
watching the door.
Harry looked around the office. No Fawkes the phoenix - no whirring
silver contraptions. This was Hogwarts as Riddle had known it,
meaning that this unknown wizard was Headmaster, not Dumbledore,
and he, Harry, 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 taller than
Harry, but he, too, had jet-black hair.
"Ah, Riddle," said the Headmaster.
"You wanted to see me, Professor Dippet?" said Riddle. He looked
nervous.
"Sit down," said Dippet. "I've just been reading the letter you sent me.
"Oh," said Riddle. He sat down, gripping his hands together very
tightly.
"My dear boy," said Dipper kindly, "I cannot possibly let you stay at
school over the summer. Surely you want to go home for the
holidays?"
"No," said Riddle at once. "Id much rather stay at Hogwarts than 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 the
orphanage she lived just long enough to name me - Tom after my
father, Marvolo after my grandfather."
Dipper clucked his tongue sympathetically.
"The thing is, Tom," he sighed, "Special arrangements might have
been made for you, but in the current circumstances . . . ."
"You mean all these attacks, sir?" said Riddle, and Harry's heart
leapt, and he moved closer, scared of missing anything.
"Precisely," said the headmaster. "My dear boy, you must see how
foolish it would be of me to allow you to remain at the castle when
term ends. Particularly in light of the recent tragedy ... the death 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 now talking 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 something about
these attacks?"
"No, sir," said Riddle quickly.
But Harry was sure it was the same sort of "no" that he himself had
given Dumbledore.
Dippet sank back, looking faintly disappointed.
"You may go, Tom ......
Riddle slid off his chair and slouched out of the room. Harry
followed him.
Down the moving spiral staircase they went, emerging next to the
gargoyle in the darkening corridor. Riddle stopped, and so did
Harry, watching him. Harry could tell that Riddle was doing some
serious thinking. He was biting his lip, his forehead furrowed.
Then, as though he had suddenly reached a decision, he hurried off,
Harry gliding noiselessly behind him. They didn't see another person
until they reached the entrance hall, when a tall wizard with long,
sweeping auburn hair and a beard called to Riddle from the marble
staircase.
"What are you doing, wandering around this late, Tom?"
Harry 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 Harry knew so well. "Best not to roam 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 Harry in hot
pursuit.
But to Harry's disappointment, Riddle led him not into a hidden
passageway or a secret tunnel but to the very dungeon in which
Harry had Potions with Snape. The torches hadn't been lit, and when
Riddle pushed the door almost closed, Harry could only just
see him, standing stock-still by the door, watching the passage outside.
It felt to Harry that they were there for at least an hour. All he could
see was the figure of Riddle at the door, staring through the crack,
waiting like a statue. And just when Harry had stopped feeling
expectant and tense and started wishing he could return to the present,
he heard something move beyond the door.
Someone was creeping along the passage. He heard whoever it was
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 -"
"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.
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
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, threeheaded
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 ......
"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."
"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.
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.
"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.
"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
through the megaphone, addressing the packed stadium. There were
boos and shouts. Oliver Wood, looking devastated, landed and ran
toward Professor McGonagall without getting off his broomstick.
"But, Professor!" he shouted. "We've got to play - the cup
Gryffindor -"
Professor McGonagall ignored him and continued to shout through her
megaphone:
"All students are to make their way back to the House common
rooms, where their Heads of Houses will give them further
information. As quickly as you can, please!"
Then she lowered the megaphone and beckoned Harry over to her.
"Potter, I think you'd better come with me ......
Wondering how she could possibly suspect him this time, Harry saw
Ron detach himself from the complaining crowd; he came running up
to them as they set off toward the castle. To Harry's surprise,
Professor McGonagall didn't object.
"Yes, perhaps you'd better come, too, Weasley .....
Some of the students swarming around them were grumbling about
the match being canceled; others looked worried. Harry and Ron
followed Professor McGonagall back into the school and up the
marble staircase. But they weren't taken to anybody's office this time.
"This will be a bit of a shock," said Professor McGonagall in a
surprisingly gentle voice as they approached the infirmary. "There has
been another attack ... another double attack."
Harry's insides did a horrible somersault. Professor McGonagall
pushed the door open and he and Ron entered. .
Madam Pomfrey was bending over a fifth-year girl with long, curly
hair. Harry recognized her as the Ravenclaw they'd accidentally
asked for directions to the Slytherin common room. And on the bed
next to her was
"Hermione!" Ron groaned.
Hermione lay utterly still, her eyes open and glassy.
"They were found near the library," said Professor McGonagall. "I
don't suppose either of you can explain this? It was on the floor next
to them ......
She was holding up a small, circular mirror.
Harry and Ron shook their heads, both staring at Hermione.
"I will escort you back to Gryffindor Tower," said Professor
McGonagall heavily. "I need to address the students in any case.
"All students will return to their House common rooms by six o'clock
in the evening. No student is to leave the dormitories after that time.
You will be escorted to each lesson by a teacher. No student is to use
the bathroom unaccompanied by a teacher. All further Quidditch
training and matches are to be postponed. There will be no more
evening activities."
The Gryffindors packed inside the common room listened to Professor
McGonagall in silence. She rolled up the parchment
from which she had been reading and said in a somewhat choked
voice, "I need hardly add that I have rarely been so distressed. It is
likely that the school will be closed unless the culprit behind these
attacks is caught. I would urge anyone who thinks they might know
anything about them to come forward."
She climbed somewhat awkwardly out of the portrait hole, and the
Gryffindors began talking immediately.
"That's two Gryffindors down, not counting a Gryffindor ghost, one
Ravenclaw, and one Hufflepuff, " said the Weasley twins' friend Lee
Jordan, counting on his fingers. "Haven't any of the teachers noticed
that the Slytherins are all safe? Isn't it obvious all this stuff's coming
from Slytherin? The Heir of Slytherin, the monster of Slytherin - why
don't they just chuck all the Slytherins out?" he roared, to nods and
scattered applause.
Percy Weasley was sitting in a chair behind Lee, but for once he didn't
seem keen to make his views heard. He was looking pale and stunned.
"Percy's in shock," George told Harry quietly. "That Ravenclaw girl -
Penelope Clearwater - she's a prefect. I don't think he thought the
monster would dare attack a prefect."
But Harry was only half-listening. He didn't seem to be able to get rid
of the picture of Hermione, lying on the hospital bed as though carved
out of stone. And if the culprit wasn't caught soon, he was looking at a
lifetime back with the Dursleys. Tom Riddle had turned Hagrid in
because he was faced with the prospect of a Muggle orphanage if the
school closed. Harry now knew exactly how he had felt.
"What're we going to do?" said Ron quietly in Harry's ear. "D'you
think they suspect Hagrid?"
"We've got to go and talk to him," said Harry, making up his
mind. "I can't believe it's him this time, but if he set the monster
loose last time he'll know how to get inside the Chamber of Secrets,
and that's a start."
"But McGonagall said we've got to stay in our tower unless we're
in class -"
"I think," said Harry, more quietly still, "it's time to get my dad's
old cloak out again."
Harry had inherited) ust one thing from his father: a long and sil
very Invisibility Cloak. It was their only chance of sneaking out of
the school to visit Hagrid without anyone knowing about it. They
went to bed at the usual time, waited until Neville, Dean, and Sea
mus had stopped discussing the Chamber of Secrets and finally
fallen asleep, then got up, dressed again, and threw the cloak over
themselves.
The journey through the dark and deserted castle corridors
wasn't enjoyable. Harry, who had wandered the castle at night sev
eral times before, had never seen it so crowded after sunset. Teach
ers, prefects, and ghosts were marching the corridors in pairs,
staring around for any unusual activity. Their Invisibility Cloak
didn't stop them making any noise, and there was a particularly
tense moment when Ron stubbed his toe only yards from the spot
where Snape stood standing guard. Thankfully, Snape sneezed at
almost exactly the moment Ron swore. It was with relief that they
reached the oak front doors and eased them open.
It was a clear, starry night. They hurried toward the lit windows
of Hagrid's house and pulled off the cloak only when they were
right outside his front door.
Seconds after they had knocked, Hagrid flung it open. They found
themselves face-to-face with him aiming a crossbow at them. Fang
the boarhound barked loudly behind him.
"Oh," he said, lowering the weapon and staring at them. "What're
you two doin' here?"
"What's that for?" said Harry, pointing at the crossbow as they
stepped inside.
"Nothin' - nothin' - " Hagrid muttered. "I've bin expectin' doesn'
matter - Sit down - I'll make tea -"
He hardly seemed to know what he was doing. He nearly
extinguished the fire, spilling water from the kettle on it, and then
smashed the teapot with a nervous jerk of his massive hand.
"Are you okay, Hagrid?" said Harry. "Did you hear about
Hermione?"
"Oh, I heard, all righ'," said Hagrid, a slight break in his voice.
He kept glancing nervously at the windows. He poured them both
large mugs of boiling water (he had forgotten to add tea bags) and
was just putting a slab of fruitcake on a plate when there was a loud
knock on the door.
Hagrid dropped the fruitcake. Harry and Ron exchanged
panicstricken looks, then threw the Invisibility Cloak back over
themselves and retreated into a corner. Hagrid checked that they
were hidden, seized his crossbow, and flung open his door once
more.
"Good evening, Hagrid."
It was Dumbledore. He entered, looking deadly serious, and was
followed by a second, very odd-looking man.
The stranger had rumpled gray hair and an anxious expression, and
was wearing a strange mixture of clothes: a pinstriped suit, a
scarlet tie, a long black cloak, and pointed purple boots. Under his arm
he carried a lime-green bowler.
"That's Dad's boss!" Ron breathed. "Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of
Magic!"
Harry elbowed Ron hard to make him shut up.
Hagrid had gone pale and sweaty. He dropped into one of his chairs
and looked from Dumbledore to Cornelius Fudge.
"Bad business, Hagrid," said Fudge in rather clipped tones. "Very bad
business. Had to come. Four attacks on Muggle-borns. Things've gone
far enough. Ministry's got to act."
"I never," said Hagrid, looking imploringly at Dumbledore. "You know I
never, Professor Dumbledore, sir -"
"I want it understood, Cornelius, that Hagrid has my full confidence,"
said Dumbledore, frowning at Fudge.
"Look, Albus," said Fudge, uncomfortably. "Hagrid's record's against
him. Ministry's got to do something - the school governors have been
in touch -"
"Yet again, Cornelius, I tell you that taking Hagrid away will not help
in the slightest," said Dumbledore. His blue eyes were full of a fire
Harry had never seen before.
"Look at it from my point of view," said Fudge, fidgeting with his
bowler. "I'm under a lot of pressure. Got to be seen to be doing
something. If it turns out it wasn't Hagrid, he'll be back and no more
said. But I've got to take him. Got to. Wouldn't be doing my duty -"
"Take me?" said Hagrid, who was trembling. "Take me where?"
"For a short stretch only," said Fudge, not meeting Hagrid's eyes. "Not
a punishment, Hagrid, more a precaution. If someone else is caught,
you'll be let out with a full apology -"
"Not Azkaban?" croaked Hagrid.
Before Fudge could answer, there was another loud rap on the door.
Dumbledore answered it. It was Harry's turn for an elbow in the ribs;
he'd let out an audible gasp.
Mr. Lucius Malfoy strode into Hagrid's hut, swathed in a long black
traveling cloak, smiling a cold and satisfied smile. Fang started to
growl.
"Already here, Fudge," he said approvingly. "Good, good. . ."
"What're you doin' here?" said Hagrid furiously. "Get outta my house!"
"My dear man, please believe me, I have no pleasure at all in being
inside your - er - d'you call this a house?" said Lucius Malfoy, sneering
as he looked around the small cabin. "I simply called at the school and
was told that the headmaster was here."
"And what exactly did you want with me, Lucius?" said Dumbledore.
He spoke politely, but the fire was still blazing in his blue eyes.
"Dreadful thing, Dumbledore," said Malfoy lazily, taking out a long roll
of parchment, "but the governors feel it's time for you to step aside.
This is an Order of Suspension - you'll find all twelve signatures on it.
I'm afraid we feel you're losing your touch. How many attacks have
there been now? Two more this afternoon, wasn't it? At this rate,
there'll be no Muggle-borns left at Hogwarts, and we all know what
an awful loss that would be to the school."
"Oh, now, see here, Lucius," said Fudge, looking alarmed,
"Dumbledore suspended - no, no - last thing we want just now
"The appointment - or suspension - of the headmaster is a matter for
the governors, Fudge," said Mr. Malfoy smoothly. "And as
Dumbledore has failed to stop these attacks -"
"See here, Malfoy, if Dumbledore can't stop them," said Fudge, whose
upper lip was sweating now, "I mean to say, who can?"
"That remains to be seen," said Mr. Malfoy with a nasty smile. "But as
all twelve of us have voted -"
Hagrid leapt to his feet, his shaggy black head grazing the ceiling.
'An' how many did yeh have ter threaten an' blackmail before they
agreed, Malfoy, eh?" he roared.
"Dear, dear, you know, that temper of yours will lead you into trouble
one of these days, Hagrid," said Mr. Malfoy. "I would advise you not
to shout at the Azkaban guards like that. They won't like it at all."
"Yeh can' take Dumbledore!" yelled Hagrid, making Fang the
boarhound cower and whimper in his basket. "Take him away, an' the
Muggle-borns won' stand a chance! There'll be killin' next!"
"Calm yourself, Hagrid," said Dumbledore sharply. He looked at
Lucius Malfoy.
"If the governors want my removal, Lucius, I shall of course step aside
-"
"But -" stuttered Fudge.
"No!"growled Hagrid.
Dumbledore had not taken his bright blue eyes off Lucius Malfoy's
cold gray ones.
"However," said Dumbledore, speaking very slowly and clearly so that
none of them could miss a word, "you will find that I will
ummer was creeping over the grounds around the castle; sky and lake
alike turned periwinkle blue and flowers large as cabbages burst into
bloom in the greenhouses. But with no Hagrid visible from the castle
windows, striding the grounds with Fang at his heels, the scene didn't
look right to Harry; no better, in fact, than the inside of the castle,
where things were so horribly wrong.
Harry and Ron had tried to visit Hermione, but visitors were now
barred from the hospital wing.
"We're taking no more chances," Madam Pomfrey told them severely
through a crack in the infirmary door. "No, I'm sorry, there's every
chance the attacker might come back to finish these people off . . ."
With Dumbledore gone, fear had spread as never before, so that the
sun warming the castle walls outside seemed to stop at the mullioned
windows. There was barely a face to be seen in the school
that didn't look worried and tense, and any laughter that rang through
the corridors sounded shrill and unnatural and was quickly stifled.
Harry constantly repeated Dumbledore's final words to himself "I will
only truly have left this school when none here are loyal to me... Help will
always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it." But what good
were these words? Who exactly were they supposed to ask for help,
when everyone was just as confused and scared as they were?
Hagrid's hint about the spiders was far easier to understand the
trouble was, there didn't seem to be a single spider left in the castle to
follow. Harry looked everywhere he went, helped (rather reluctantly)
by Ron. They were hampered, of course, by the fact that they weren't
allowed to wander off on their own but had to move around the castle
in a pack with the other Gryffindors. Most of their fellow students
seemed glad that they were being shepherded from class to class by
teachers, but Harry found it very irksome.
One person, however, seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the
atmosphere of terror and suspicion. Draco Malfoy was strutting
around the school as though he had just been appointed Head Boy.
Harry didn't realize what he was so pleased about until the Potions
lesson about two weeks after Dumbledore and Hagrid had left, when,
sitting right behind Malfoy, Harry overheard him gloating to Crabbe
and Goyle.
"I always thought Father might be the one who got rid of
Dumbledore," he said, not troubling to keep his voice down. "I told you
he thinks Dumbledore's the worst headmaster the school's ever
had. Maybe we'll get a decent headmaster now. Someone who won't
want the Chamber of Secrets closed. McGonagall won't last long,
she's only filling in ......
Snape swept past Harry, making no comment about Hermione's
empty seat and cauldron.
"Sir," said Malfoy loudly. "Sir, why don't you apply for the
headmaster's job?"
"Now, now, Malfoy," said Snape, though he couldn't suppress a thinlipped
smile. "Professor Dumbledore has only been suspended by the
governors. I daresay he'll be back with us soon enough."
"Yeah, right," said Malfoy, smirking. "I expect you'd have Father's
vote, sir, if you wanted to apply for the job - I'll tell Father you're the
best teacher here, sir -"
Snape smirked as he swept off around the dungeon, fortunately not
spotting Seamus Finnigan, who was pretending to vomit into his
cauldron.
"I'm quite surprised the Mudbloods haven't all packed their bags by
now," Malfoy went on. "Bet you five Galleons the next one dies. Pity
it wasn't Granger -"
The bell rang at that moment, which was lucky; at Malfoy's last
words, Ron had leapt off his stool, and in the scramble to collect bags
and books, his attempts to reach Malfoy went unnoticed.
"Let me at him," Ron growled as Harry and Dean hung onto his arms.
"I don't care, I don't need my wand, I'm going to kill him with my bare
hands -"
"Hurry up, I've got to take you all to Herbology," barked Snape over
the class's heads, and off they marched, with Harry, Ron, and Dean
bringing up the rear, Ron still trying to get loose. It was only
safe to let go of him when Snape had seen them out of the castle and
they were making their way across the vegetable patch toward the
greenhouses.
The Herbology class was very subdued; there were now two missing
from their number, Justin and Hermione.
Professor Sprout set them all to work pruning the Abyssinian
Shrivelfigs. Harry went to tip an armful of withered stalks onto the
compost heap and found himself face-to-face with Ernie Macmillan.
Ernie took a deep breath and said, very formally, "I just want to say,
Harry, that I'm sorry I ever suspected you. I know you'd never attack
Hermione Granger, and I apologize for all the stuff I said. We're all in
the same boat now, and, well -"
He held out a pudgy hand, and Harry shook it.
Ernie and his friend Hannah came to work at the same Shrivelfig as
Harry and Ron.
"That Draco Malfoy character," said Ernie, breaking off dead twigs,
"he seems very pleased about all this, doesn't he? D'you know, I think
he might be Slytherin's heir."
"That's clever of you," said Ron, who didn't seem to have forgiven
Ernie as readily as Harry.
"Do you think it's Malfoy, Harry?" Ernie asked.
"No," said Harry, so firmly that Ernie and Hannah stared.
A second later, Harry spotted something.
Several large spiders were scuttling over the ground on the other side
of the glass, moving in an unnaturally straight line as though taking the
shortest route to a prearranged meeting. Harry hit Ron over the hand
with his pruning shears.
"Ouch! What're you -"
Harry pointed out the spiders, following their progress with his eyes
screwed up against the sun.
"Oh, yeah," said Ron, trying, and failing, to look pleased. "But we can't
follow them now -"
Ernie and Hannah were listening curiously.
Harry's eyes narrowed as he focused on the spiders. If they pursued
their fixed course, there could be no doubt about where they would
end up.
"Looks like they're heading for the Forbidden Forest . . . ."
And Ron looked even unhappier about that.
At the end of the lesson Professor Sprout escorted the class to their
Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson. Harry and Ron lagged behind
the others so they could talk out of earshot.
"We'll have to use the Invisibility Cloak again," Harry told Ron. "We
can take Fang with us. He's used to going into the forest with Hagrid,
he might be some help."
"Right," said Ron, who was twirling his wand nervously in his fingers.
"Er - aren't there - aren't there supposed to be werewolves in the
forest?" he added as they took their usual places at the back of
Lockhart's classroom.
Preferring not to answer that question, Harry said, "There are good
things in there, too. The centaurs are all right, and the unicorns ...
Ron had never been into the Forbidden Forest before. Harry had
entered it only once and had hoped never to do so again.
Lockhart bounded into the room and the class stared at him. Every
other teacher in the place was looking grimmer than usual, but
Lockhart appeared nothing short of buoyant.
"Come now," he cried, beaming around him. "Why all these long
faces?"
People swapped exasperated looks, but nobody answered.
"Don't you people realize," said Lockhart, speaking slowly, as though
they were all a bit dim, "the danger has passed! The culprit has been
taken away -"
"Says who?" said Dean Thomas loudly.
"My dear young man, the Minister of Magic wouldn't have taken
Hagrid if he hadn't been one hundred percent sure that he was guilty,"
said Lockhart, in the tone of someone explaining that one and one
made two.
"Oh, yes he would," said Ron, even more loudly than Dean.
"I flatter myself I know a touch more about Hagrid's arrest than you
do, Mr. Weasley," said Lockhart in a self-satisfied tone.
Ron started to say that he didn't think so, somehow, but stopped in
midsentence when Harry kicked him hard under the desk.
"We weren't there, remember?" Harry muttered.
But Lockhart's disgusting cheeriness, his hints that he had always
thought Hagrid was no good, his confidence that the whole business
was now at an end, irritated Harry so much that he yearned to throw
Gadding with Ghouls right in Lockhart's stupid face. Instead he
contented himself with scrawling a note to Ron: Let's do it tonight.
Ron read the message, swallowed hard, and looked sideways at the
empty seat usually filled by Hermione. The sight seemed to stiffen his
resolve, and he nodded.
The Gryffindor common room was always very crowded these days,
because from six o'clock onward the Gryffindors had no -

where else to go. They also had plenty to talk about, with the result
that the common room often didn't empty until past midnight.
Harry went to get the Invisibility Cloak out of his trunk right after
dinner, and spent the evening sitting on it, waiting for the room to
clear. Fred and George challenged Harry and Ron to a few games of
Exploding Snap, and Ginny sat watching them, very subdued in
Hermione's usual chair. Harry and Ron kept losing on purpose, trying
to finish the games quickly, but even so, it was well past midnight
when Fred, George, and Ginny finally went to bed.
Harry and Ron waited for the distant sounds of two dormitory doors
closing before seizing the cloak, throwing it over themselves, and
climbing through the portrait hole.
It was another difficult journey through the castle, dodging all the
teachers. At last they reached the entrance hall, slid back the lock on
the oak front doors, squeezed between them, trying to stop any
creaking, and stepped out into the moonlit grounds.
"'Course," said Ron abruptly as they strode across the black grass,
"we might get to the forest and find there's nothing to follow. Those
spiders might not've been going there at all. I know it looked like they
were moving in that sort of general direction, but. . ."
His voice trailed away hopefully.
They reached Hagrid's house, sad and sorry-looking with its blank
windows. When Harry pushed the door open, Fang went mad with joy
at the sight of them. Worried he might wake everyone at the castle
with his deep, booming barks, they hastily fed him treacle fudge from
a tin on the mantelpiece, which glued his teeth together.
Harry left the Invisibility Cloak on Hagrid's table. There would be no
need for it in the pitch-dark forest.
"C'mon, Fang, we're going for a walk," said Harry, patting his leg, and
Fang bounded happily out of the house behind them, dashed to the
edge of the forest, and lifted his leg against a large sycamore tree.
Harry took out his wand, murmured, "Lumos!" and a tiny light
appeared at the end of it, just enough to let them watch the path for
signs of spiders.
"Good thinking," said Ron. "Id light mine, too, but you know - it'd
probably blow up or something ......
Harry tapped Ron on the shoulder, pointing at the grass. Two solitary
spiders were hurrying away from the wandlight into the shade of the
trees.
"Okay," Ron sighed as though resigned to the worst, "I'm ready. Let's
go."
So, with Fang scampering around them, sniffing tree roots and leaves,
they entered the forest. By the glow of Harry's wand, they followed
the steady trickle of spiders moving along the path. They walked
behind them for about twenty minutes, not speaking, listening hard for
noises other than breaking twigs and rustling leaves. Then, when the
trees had become thicker than ever, so that the stars overhead were
no longer visible, and Harry's wand shone alone in the sea of dark,
they saw their spider guides leaving the path.
Harry paused, trying to see where the spiders were going, but
everything outside his little sphere of *light was pitch-black. He had
never been this deep into the forest before. He could vividly
remember Hagrid advising him not to leave the forest path last time
he'd been in here. But Hagrid was miles away now, probably sitting in
a cell in Azkaban, and he had also said to follow the spiders.
Something wet touched Harry's hand and he jumped backward,
crushing Rods foot, but it was only Fang's nose.
"What d'you reckon?" Harry said to Ron, whose eyes he could just
make out, reflecting the light from his wand.
"We've come this far," said Ron.
So they followed the darting shadows of the spiders into the trees.
They couldn't move very quickly now; there were tree roots and
stumps in their way, barely visible in the near blackness. Harry could
feel Fang's hot breath on his hand. More than once, they had to stop,
so that Harry could crouch down and find the spiders in the wandlight.
They walked for what seemed like at least half an hour, their robes
snagging on low-slung branches and brambles. After a while, they
noticed that the ground seemed to be sloping downward, though the
trees were as thick as ever.
Then Fang suddenly let loose a great, echoing bark, making both Harry
and Ron jump out of their skins.
"What?" said Ron loudly, looking around into the pitch-dark, and
gripping Harry's elbow very hard.
"There's something moving over there," Harry breathed. "Listen ...
sounds like something big ......
They listened. Some distance to their right, the something big was
snapping branches as it carved a path through the trees.
"Oh, no," said Ron. "Oh, no, oh, no, oh -"
"Shut up," said Harry frantically. "It'll hear you."
"Hear me?" said Ron in an unnaturally high voice. "It's already heard
Fang!"
The darkness seemed to be pressing on their eyeballs as they
stood, terrified, waiting. There was a strange rumbling noise and then
silence.
"What d'you think it's doing?" said Harry.
"Probably getting ready to pounce," said Ron.
They waited, shivering, hardly daring to move.
"D'you think it's gone?" Harry whispered.
"Dunno -"
Then, to their right, came a sudden blaze of light, so bright in the
darkness that both of them flung up their hands to shield their eyes.
Fang yelped and tried to run, but got lodged in a tangle of thorns and
yelped even louder.
"Harry!" Ron shouted, his voice breaking with relief "Harry, it's our
car!"
"What?"
"Come on!"
Harry blundered after Ron toward the light, stumbling and tripping,
and a moment later they had emerged into a clearing.
Mr. Weasley's car was standing, empty, in the middle of a circle of
thick trees under a roof of dense branches, its headlights ablaze. As
Ron walked, open-mouthed, toward it, it moved slowly toward him,
exactly like a large, turquoise dog greeting its owner.
"It's been here all the time!" said Ron delightedly, walking around the
car. "Look at it. The forest's turned it wild . . . ."
The sides of the car were scratched and smeared with mud.
Apparently it had taken to trundling around the forest on its own.
Fang didn't seem at all keen on it; he kept close to Harry, who could
feel him quivering. His breathing slowing down again, Harry stuffed
his wand back into his robes.
"And we thought it was going to attack us!" said Ron, leaning against
the car and patting it. "I wondered where it had gone!"
Harry squinted around on the floodlit ground for signs of more spiders,
but they had all scuttled away from the glare of the headlights.
"We've lost the trail," he said. "C'mon, let's go and find them."
Ron didn't speak. He didn't move. His eyes were fixed on a point
some ten feet above the forest floor, right behind Harry. His face was
livid with terror.
Harry didn't even have time to turn around. There was a loud clicking
noise and suddenly he felt something long and hairy seize him around
the middle and lift him off the ground, so that he was hanging
facedown. Struggling, terrified, he heard more clicking, and saw Ron's
legs leave the ground, too, heard Fang whimpering and howling - next
moment, he was being swept away into the dark trees.
Head hanging, Harry saw that what had hold of him was marching on
six immensely long, hairy legs, the front two clutching him tightly below
a pair of shining black pincers. Behind him, he could hear another of
the creatures, no doubt carrying Ron. They were moving into the very
heart of the forest. Harry could hear Fang fighting to free himself from
a third monster, whining loudly, but Harry couldn't have yelled even if
he had wanted to; he seemed to have left his voice back with the car
in the clearing.
He never knew how long he was in the creature's clutches; he only
knew that the darkness suddenly lifted enough for him to see that the
leaf-strewn ground was now swarming with spiders. Craning his neck
sideways, he realized that they had reached the ridge of
a vast hollow, a hollow that had been cleared of trees, so that the stars
shone brightly onto the worst scene he had ever laid eyes on.
Spiders. Not tiny spiders like those surging over the leaves below.
Spiders the size of carthorses, eight-eyed, eight-legged, black, hairy,
gigantic. The massive specimen that was carrying Harry made its way
down the steep slope toward a misty, domed web in the very center of
the hollow, while its fellows closed in all around it, clicking their
pincers excitedly at the sight of its load.
Harry fell to the ground on all fours as the spider released him. Ron
and Fang thudded down next to him. Fang wasn't howling anymore,
but cowering silently on the spot. Ron looked exactly like Harry felt.
His mouth was stretched wide in a kind of silent scream and his eyes
were popping.
Harry suddenly realized that the spider that had dropped him was
saying something. It had been hard to tell, because he clicked his
pincers with every word he spoke.
"Aragog!" it called. "Aragog!"
And from the middle of the misty, domed web, a spider the size of a
small elephant emerged, very slowly. There was gray in the black of
his body and legs, and each of the eyes on his ugly, pincered head was
milky white. He was blind.
"What is it?" he said, clicking his pincers rapidly.
"Men," clicked the spider who had caught Harry.
"Is it Hagrid?" said Aragog, moving closer, his eight milky eyes
wandering vaguely.
"Strangers," clicked the spider who had brought Ron.
"Kill them," clicked Aragog fretfully. "I was sleeping ......
"We're friends of Hagrid's," Harry shouted. His heart seemed to have
left his chest to pound in his throat.
Click, click, click went the pincers of the spiders all around the hollow.
Aragog paused.
"Hagrid has never sent men into our hollow before," he said slowly.
"Hagrid's in trouble," said Harry, breathing very fast. "That's why
we've come."
"In trouble?" said the aged spider, and Harry thought he heard concern
beneath the clicking pincers. "But why has he sent you?"
Harry thought of getting to his feet but decided against it; he didn't
think his legs would support him. So he spoke from the ground, as
calmly as he could.
"They think,, up at the school, that Hagrid's been setting a a -
something on students. They've taken him to Azkaban."
Aragog clicked his pincers furiously, and all around the hollow the
sound was echoed by the crowd of spiders; it was like applause,
except applause didn't usually make Harry feel sick with fear.
"But that was years ago," said Aragog fretfully. "Years and years ago.
I remember it well. That's why they made him leave the school. They
believed that I was the monster that dwells in what they call the
Chamber of Secrets. They thought that Hagrid had opened the
Chamber and set me free."
"And you ... you didn't come from the Chamber of Secrets?" said
Harry, who could feel cold sweat on his forehead.
"I!" said Aragog, clicking angrily. "I was not born in the castle. I come
from a distant land. A traveler gave me to Hagrid when I was an egg.
Hagrid was only a boy, but he cared for me, hidden in a cupboard in
the castle, feeding me on scraps from the table. Hagrid
is my good friend, and a good man. When I was discovered, and
blamed for the death of a girl, he protected me. I have lived here in
the forest ever since, where Hagrid still visits me. He even found me
a wife, Mosag, and you see how our family has grown, all through
Hagrid's goodness ......
Harry summoned what remained of his courage.
"So you never - never attacked anyone?"
"Never," croaked the old spider. "It would have been my instinct, but
out of respect for Hagrid, I never harmed a human. The body of the
girl who was killed was discovered in a bathroom. I never saw any
part of the castle but the cupboard in which I grew up. Our kind like
the dark and the quiet ......
"But then ... Do you know what did kill that girl?" said Harry.
"Because whatever it is, it's back and attacking people again -"
His words were drowned by a loud outbreak of clicking and the
rustling of many long legs shifting angrily; large black shapes shifted
all around him.
"The thing that lives in the castle," said Aragog, "is an ancient creature
we spiders fear above all others. Well do I remember how I pleaded
with Hagrid to let me go, when I sensed the beast moving about the
school."
"What is it?" said Harry urgently.
More loud clicking, more rustling; the spiders seemed to be closing in.
"We do not speak of it!" said Aragog fiercely. "We do not name it! I
never even told Hagrid the name of that dread creature, though he
asked me, many times."
Harry didn't want to press the subject, not with the spiders
pressing closer on all sides. Aragog seemed to be tired of tamng. He
was backing slowly into his domed web, but his fellow spiders
continued to inch slowly toward Harry and Ron.
"We'll just go, then," Harry called desperately to Aragog, hearing
leaves rustling behind him.
"Go?" said Aragog slowly. "I think not ......
"But - but -"
"My sons and daughters do not harm Hagrid, on my command. But I
cannot deny them fresh meat, when it wanders so willingly into our
midst. Good-bye, friend of Hagrid."
Harry spun around. Feet away, towering above him, was a solid wall
of spiders, clicking, their many eyes gleaming in their ugly black heads.
Even as he reached for his wand, Harry knew it was no good, there
were too many of them, but as he tried to stand, ready to die fighting,
a loud, long note sounded, and a blaze of light flamed through the
hollow.
Mr. Weasley's car was thundering down the slope, headlights glaring,
its horn screeching, knocking spiders aside; several were thrown onto
their backs, their endless legs waving in the air. The car screeched to
a halt in front of Harry and Ron and the doors flew open.
"Get Fang!" Harry yelled, diving into the front seat; Ron seized the
boarhound around the middle and threw him, yelping, into the back of
the car - the doors slammed shut - Ron didn't touch the accelerator
but the car didn't need him; the engine roared and they were off,
hitting more spiders. They sped up the slope, out of the hollow, and
they were soon crashing through the forest, branches
whipping the windows as the car wound its way cleverly through the
widest gaps, following a path it obviously knew.
Harry looked sideways at Ron. His mouth was still open in the silent
scream, but his eyes weren't popping anymore.
"Are you okay?"
Ron stared straight ahead, unable to speak.
They smashed their way through the undergrowth, Fang howling loudly
in the back seat, and Harry saw the side mirror snap off as they
squeezed past a large oak. After ten noisy, rocky minutes, the trees
thinned, and Harry could again see patches of sky.
The car stopped so suddenly that they were nearly thrown into the
windshield. They had reached the edge of the forest. Fang flung
himself at the window in his anxiety to get out, and when Harry
opened the door, he shot off through the trees to Hagrid's house, tail
between his legs. Harry got out too, and after a minute or so, Ron
seemed to regain the feeling in his limbs and followed, still stiff-necked
and staring. Harry gave the car a grateful pat as it reversed back into
the forest and disappeared from view.
Harry went back into Hagrid's cabin to get the Invisibility Cloak. Fang
was trembling under a blanket in his basket. When Harry got outside
again, he found Ron being violently sick in the pumpkin patch.
"Follow the spiders," said Ron weakly, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.
"I'll never forgive Hagrid. We're lucky to be alive."
"I bet he thought Aragog wouldn't hurt friends of his," said Harry.
"That's exactly Hagrid's problem!" said Ron, thumping the wall of the
cabin. "He always thinks monsters aren't as bad as they're
made out, and look where it's got him! A cell in Azkaban!" He was
shivering uncontrollably now. "What was the point of sending us in
there? What have we found out, Id like to know?"
"That Hagrid never opened the Chamber of Secrets," said Harry,
throwing the cloak over Ron and prodding him in the arm to make him
walk. "He was innocent."
Ron gave a loud snort. Evidently, hatching Aragog in a cupboard
wasn't his idea of being innocent.
As the castle loomed nearer Harry twitched the cloak to make sure
their feet were hidden, then pushed the creaking front doors ajar.
They walked carefully back across the entrance hall and up the
marble staircase, holding their breath as they passed corridors where
watchful sentries were walking. At last they reached the safety of the
Gryffindor common room, where the fire had burned itself into
glowing ash. They took off the cloak and climbed the winding stair to
their dormitory.
Ron fell onto his bed without bothering to get undressed. Harry,
however, didn't feel very sleepy. He sat on the edge of his fourposter,
thinking hard about everything Aragog had said.
The creature that was lurking somewhere in the castle, he thought,
sounded like a sort of monster Voldemort - even other monsters didn't
want to name it. But he and Ron were no closer to finding out what it
was, or how it Petrified its victims. Even Hagrid had never known
what was in the Chamber of Secrets.
Harry swung his legs up onto his bed and leaned back against his
pillows, watching the moon glinting at him through the tower window.
He couldn't see what else they could do. They had hit dead ends
everywhere. Riddle had caught the wrong person, the Heir of
Slytherin had got off, and no one could tell whether it was the same
person, or a different one, who had opened the Chamber this time.
There was nobody else to ask. Harry lay down, still thinking about
what Aragog had said.
He was becoming drowsy when what seemed like their very last
hope occurred to him, and he suddenly sat bolt upright.
"Ron," he hissed through the dark, "Ron -"
Ron woke with a yelp like Fang's, stared wildly around, and saw
Harry.
"Ron -that girl who died. Aragog said she was found in a bathroom,"
said Harry, ignoring Neville's snufing snores from the corner. "What
if she never left the bathroom? What if she's still there?"
Ron rubbed his eyes, frowning through the moonlight. And then he
understood, too.
"You don't think - not Moaning Myrtle?"
A ll those times we were in that bathroom, and she was just
three toilets away," said Ron bitterly at breakfast next day,
"and we could've asked her, and now. . ."
It had been hard enough trying to look for spiders. Escaping their
teachers long enough to sneak into a girls' bathroom, the girls' bathroom,
moreover, right next to the scene of the first attack, was going to be
almost impossible.
But something happened in their first lesson, Transfiguration, that drove
the Chamber of Secrets out of their minds for the first time in weeks.
Ten minutes into the class, Professor McGonagall told them that their
exams would start on the first of June, one week from today.
`Exams?" howled Seamus Finnigan. "We're still getting exams?"
There was a loud bang behind Harry as Neville Longbottom's wand
slipped, vanishing one of the legs on his desk. Professorr
McGonagall restored it with a wave of her own wand, and turned,
frowning, to Seamus.
"The whole point of keeping the school open at this time is for you to
receive your education," she said sternly. "The exams will therefore
take place as usual, and I trust you are all studying hard."
Studying hard! It had never occurred to Harry that there would be
exams with the castle in this state. There was a great deal of mutinous
muttering around the room, which made Professor McGonagall scowl
even more darkly.
"Professor Dumbledore's instructions were to keep the school running
as normally as possible, she said. "And that, I need hardly point out,
means finding out how much you have learned this year.
Harry looked down at the pair of white rabbits he was supposed to be
turning into slippers. What had he learned so far this year? He couldn't
seem to think of anything that would be useful in an exam.
Ron looked as though he'd just been told he had to go and live in the
Forbidden Forest.
"Can you imagine me taking exams with this?" he asked Harry, holding
up his wand, which had just started whistling loudly.
Three days before their first exam, Professor McGonagall made
another announcement at breakfast.
"I have good news," she said, and the Great Hall, instead of falling
silent, erupted.
"Dumbledore's coming back!" several people yelled joyfully.
"You've caught the Heir of Slytherin!" squealed a girl at the
Ravenclaw table.
"Quidditch matches are back on!" roared Wood excitedly.
When the hubbub had subsided, Professor McGonagall said,
"Professor Sprout has informed me that the Mandrakes are ready for
cutting at last. Tonight, we will be able to revive those people who
have been Petrified. I need hardly remind you all that one of them may
well be able to tell us who, or what, attacked them. I am hopeful that
this dreadful year will end with our catching the culprit."
There was an explosion of cheering. Harry looked over at the
Slytherin table and wasn't at all surprised to see that Draco Malfoy
hadn't joined in. Ron, however, was looking happier than he'd looked in
days.
"It won't matter that we never asked Myrtle, then!" he said to Harry.
"Hermione'll probably have all the answers when they wake her up!
Mind you, she'll go crazy when she finds out we've got exams in three
days' time. She hasn't studied. It might be kinder to leave her where
she is till they're over."
Just then, Ginny Weasley came over and sat down next to Ron. She
looked tense and nervous, and Harry noticed that her hands were
twisting in her lap.
"What's up?" said Ron, helping himself to more porridge.
Ginny didn't say anything, but glanced up and down the Gryffindor
table with a scared look on her face that reminded Harry of someone,
though he couldn't think who.
"Spit it out," said Ron, watching her.
Harry suddenly realized who Ginny looked like. She was rocking
backward and forward slightly in her chair, exactly like Dobby did
when he was teetering on the edge of revealing forbidden information.
"I've got to tell you something," Ginny mumbled, carefully not looking at
Harry.
"What is it?" said Harry.
Ginny looked as though she couldn't find the right words.
"What?"said Ron.
Ginny opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Harry leaned
forward and spoke quietly, so that only Ginny and Ron could hear him.
"Is it something about the Chamber of Secrets? Have you seen
something? Someone acting oddly?"
Ginny drew a deep breath and, at that precise moment, Percy Weasley
appeared, looking tired and wan.
"If you've finished eating, I'll take that seat, Ginny. I'm starving, I've
only just come off patrol duty."
Ginny jumped up as though her chair had just been electrified, gave
Percy a fleeting, frightened look, and scampered away. Percy sat
down and grabbed a mug from the center of the table.
"Percy!" said Ron angrily. "She was just about to tell us some-' thing
important!"
Halfway through a gulp of tea, Percy choked.
"What sort of thing?" he said, coughing.
"I just asked her if she'd seen anything odd, and she started to say
"Oh - that - that's nothing to do with the Chamber of Secrets," said
Percy at once.
"How do you know?" said Ron, his eyebrows raised.
"Well, er, if you must know, Ginny, er, walked in on me the other day
when I was - well, never mind - the point is, she spot
ted me doing something and I, um, I asked her not to mention it to
anybody. I must say, I did think she'd keep her word. It's nothing,
really, Id just rather -"
Harry had never seen Percy look so uncomfortable.
"What were you doing, Percy?" said Ron, grinning. "Go on, tell us, we
won't laugh."
Percy didn't smile back.
"Pass me those rolls, Harry, I'm starving."
Harry knew the whole mystery might be solved tomorrow without
their help, but he wasn't about to pass up a chance to speak to Myrtle
if it turned up - and to his delight it did, midmorning, when they were
being led to History of Magic by Gilderoy Lockhart.
Lockhart, who had so often assured them that all danger had passed,
only to be proved wrong right away, was now wholeheartedly
convinced that it was hardly worth the trouble to see them safely
down the corridors. His hair wasn't as sleek as usual; it seemed he
had been up most of the night, patrolling the fourth floor.
"Mark my words," he said, ushering them around a corner. "The first
words out of those poor Petrified people's mouths will be It was
Hagrid.' Frankly, I'm astounded Professor McGonagall thinks all
these security measures are necessary."
(ti agree, sir," said Harry, making Ron drop his books in surprise.
"Thank you, Harry, said Lockhart graciously while they waited for a
long line of Hufflepuffs to pass. "I mean, we teachers have quite
enough to be getting on with, without walking students to classes and
standing guard all night ......
"That's right," said Ron, catching on. "Why don't you leave us here, sir,
we've only got one more corridor to go -"
"You know, Weasley, I think I will," said Lockhart. "I really should go
and prepare my next class -"
And he hurried off.
"Prepare his class," Ron sneered after him. "Gone to curl his hair,
more like."
They let the rest of the Gryffindors draw ahead of them, then darted
down a side passage and hurried off toward Moaning Myrtle's
bathroom. But just as they were congratulating each other on their
brilliant scheme
"Potter! Weasley! What are you doing?"
It was Professor McGonagall, and her mouth was the thinnest of thin
lines.
"We were -we were-" Ron stammered. "We were going to - to go and
see -"
"Hermione," said Harry. Ron and Professor McGonagall both looked
at him.
"We haven't seen her for ages, Professor," Harry went on hurriedly,
treading on Ron's foot, "and we thought we'd sneak into the hospital
wing, you know, and tell her the Mandrakes are nearly ready and, er,
not to worry -"
Professor McGonagall was still staring at him, and for a moment,
Harry thought she was going to explode, but when she spoke, it was in
a strangely croaky voice.
"Of course," she said, and Harry, amazed, saw a tear glistening in her
beady eye. "Of course, I realize this has all been hardest on the friends
of those who have been ... I quite understand. Yes,
Potter, of course you may visit Miss Granger. I will inform Professor
Binns where you've gone. Tell Madam Pomfrey I have given my
permission."
Harry and Ron walked away, hardly daring to believe that they'd
avoided detention. As they turned the corner, they distinctly heard
Professor McGonagall blow her nose.
"That," said Ron fervently, "was the best story you've ever come up
with."
They had no choice now but to go to the hospital wing and tell Madam
Pomfrey that they had Professor McGonagall's permission to visit
Hermione.
Madam Pomfrey let them in, but reluctantly.
"There's just no point talking to a Petrified. person," she said, and they
had to admit she had a point when they'd taken their seats next to
Hermione. It was plain that Hermione didn't have the faintest inkling
that she had visitors, and that they might just as well tell her bedside
cabinet not to worry for all the good it would do.
"Wonder if she did see the attacker, though?" said Ron, looking sadly
at Hermione's rigid face. "Because if he sneaked up on them all, no
one'll ever know . .....
But Harry wasn't looking at Hermione's face. He was more interested
in her right hand. It lay clenched on top of her blankets, and bending
closer, he saw that a piece of paper was scrunched inside her fist.
Making sure that Madam Pomfrey was nowhere near, he pointed this
out to Ron.
"TG and get it out," Ron whispered, shifting his chair so that he
blocked Harry from Madam Pomfrey's view.
It was no easy task. Hermione's hand was clamped so tightly around
the paper that Harry was sure he was going to tear it. While Ron kept
watch he tugged and twisted, and at last, after several tense minutes,
the paper came free.
It was a page torn from a very old library book. Harry smoothed it out
eagerly and Ron leaned close to read it, too.
Of the many fearsome beasts and monsters that roam our land,
there is none more curious or more deadly than the Basilisk,
known also as the King of Serpents. This snake, which may
reach gigantic size and live many hundreds of years, is born
from a chicken's egg, hatched beneath a toad. Its methods of killing are
most wondrous, for aside from its deadly and venomous fangs, the Basilisk
has a murderous stare, and all who are fixed with the beam of its eye shall
suffer instant death. Spiders flee before the Basilisk, for it is their mortal
enemy, and the Basilisk flees only from the crowing of the rooster, which is
fatal to it.
And beneath this, a single word had been written, in a hand Harry
recognized as Hermione's. Pipes.
It was as though somebody had just flicked a light on in his brain.
"Ron," he breathed. "This is it. This is the answer. The monster in the
Chamber's a basilisk - a giant serpent! That why I've been hearing
that voice all over the place, and nobody else has heard it. It's because
I understand Parseltongue . . . ."
Harry looked up at the beds around him.
"The basilisk kills people by looking at them. But no one's died -
because no one looked it straight in the eye. Colin saw it through his
camera. The basilisk burned up all the film inside it, but Colin just got
Petrified. Justin . . . Justin must've seen the basilisk through Nearly
Headless Nick! Nick got the full blast of it, but he couldn't die again .
. . and Hermione and that Ravenclaw prefect were found with a
mirror next to them. Hermione had just realized the monster was a
basilisk. I bet you anything she warned the first person she met to
look around corners with a mirror first! And that girl pulled out her
mirror - and -"
Rods jaw had dropped.
"And Mrs. Norris?" he whispered eagerly.
Harry thought hard, picturing the scene on the night of Halloween.
"The water. . ." he said slowly. "The flood from Moaning Myrtle's
bathroom. I bet you Mrs. Norris only saw the reflection . . . ."
He scanned the page in his hand eagerly. The more he looked at it,
the more it made sense.
The crowing of the rooster . . . is fatal to it"! he read aloud. "Hagrid's
roosters were killed! The Heir of Slytherin didn't want one anywhere
near the castle once the Chamber was opened! Spidersflee before it.! It
all fits!"
"But how's the basilisk been getting around the place?" said Ron. "A
giant snake . . . Someone would've seen. . ."
Harry, however, pointed at the word Hermione had scribbled at the
foot of the page.
"Pipes," he said. "Pipes . . . Ron, it's been using the plumbing. I've
been hearing that voice inside the walls . . . ."

Ron suddenly grabbed Harry's arm.
"The entrance to the Chamber of Secrets!" he said hoarsely.
"What if it's a bathroom? What if it's in -"
`= Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, "said Harry.
They sat there, excitement coursing through them, hardly able
to believe it.
"This means," said Harry, "I can't be the only Parselmouth in
the school. The Heir of Slytherin's one, too. That's how he's been
controlling the basilisk."
"What're we going to do?" said Ron, whose eyes were flashing.
"Should we go straight to McGonagall?"
"Let's go to the staff room," said Harry, jumping up. "She'll be
there in ten minutes. It's nearly break."
They ran downstairs. Not wanting to be discovered hanging
around in another corridor, they went straight into the deserted
staff room. It was a large, paneled room full of dark, wooden chairs.
Harry and Ron paced around it, too excited to sit down.
But the bell to signal break never came.
Instead, echoing through the corridors came Professor McGon
agall's voice, magically magnified.
`All students to return to their House dormitories at once. All teach
ers return to the staff room. Immediately, please. "
Harry wheeled around to stare at Ron.
"Not another attack? Not now?"
"What'll we do?" said Ron, aghast. "Go back to the dormitory?"
"No," said Harry, glancing around. There was an ugly sort of
wardrobe to his left, full of the teachers' cloaks. "In here. Let's hear
what it's all about. Then we can tell them what we've found out."
They hid themselves inside it, listening to the rumbling of hundreds of
people moving overhead, and the staff room door banging open.
From between the musty folds of the cloaks, they watched the
teachers filtering into the room. Some of them were looking puzzled,
others downright scared. Then Professor McGonagall arrived.
"It has happened," she told the silent staff room. "A student has been
taken by the monster. Right into the Chamber itself."
Professor Flitwick let out a squeal. Professor Sprout clapped her
hands over her mouth. Snape gripped the back of a chair very hard
and said, "How can you be sure?"
"The Heir of Slytherin," said Professor McGonagall, who was very
white, "left another message. Right underneath the first one. `Her
skeleton will lie in the Chamber forever. "'
Professor Flitwick burst into tears.
"Who is it?" said Madam Hooch, who had sunk, weak-kneed, into a
chair. "Which student?"
"Ginny Weasley," said Professor McGonagall.
Harry felt Ron slide silently down onto the wardrobe floor beside
him.
"We shall have to send all the students home tomorrow," said
Professor McGonagall. "This is the end of Hogwarts. Dumbledore
always said. . ."
The staffroom door banged open again. For one wild moment,
Harry was sure it would be Dumbledore. But it was Lockhart, and
he was beaming.
"So sorry - dozed off - what have I missed?"
He didn't seem to notice that the other teachers were looking at him
with something remarkably like hatred. Snape stepped forward.
"Just the man," he said. "The very man. A girl has been snatched by
the monster, Lockhart. Taken into the Chamber of Secrets itself. Your
moment has come at last."
Lockhart blanched.
"That's right, Gilderoy," chipped in Professor Sprout. "Weren't you
saying just last night that you've known all along where the entrance to
the Chamber of Secrets is?"
"I - well, I -"sputtered Lockhart.
"Yes, didn't you tell me you were sure you knew what was inside it?"
piped up Professor Flitwick.
"D-did I? I don't recall -"
"I certainly remember you saying you were sorry you hadn't had a
crack at the monster before Hagrid was arrested," said Snape. "Didn't
you say that the whole affair had been bungled, and that you should
have been given a free rein from the first?"
Lockhart stared around at his stony-faced colleagues.
"I - I really never - you may have misunderstood -"
"We'll leave it to you, then, Gilderoy," said Professor McGonagall.
"Tonight will be an excellent time to do it. We'll make sure everyone's
out of your way. You'll be able to tackle the monster all by youself. A
free rein at last."
Lockhart gazed desperately around him, but nobody came to the
rescue. He didn't look remotely handsome anymore. His lip was
trembling, and in the absence of his usually toothy grin, he looked
weak-chinned and feeble.
"V very well," he said. "I'll - I'll be in my office, getting getting ready."
And he left the room.
"Right," said Professor McGonagall, whose nostrils were flared,
"that's got him out from under our feet. The Heads of Houses should
go and inform their students what has happened. Tell them the
Hogwarts Express will take them home first thing tomorrow. Will the
rest of you please make sure no students have been left outside their
dormitories."
The teachers rose and left, one by one.
It was probably the worst day of Harry's entire life. He, Ron, Fred,
and George sat together in a corner of the Gryffindor common room,
unable to say anything to each other. Percy wasn't there. He had gone
to send an owl to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, then shut himself up in his
dormitory.
No afternoon ever lasted as long as that one, nor had Gryffindor
Tower ever been so crowded, yet so quiet. Near sunset, Fred and
George went up to bed, unable to sit there any longer.
"She knew something, Harry," said Ron, speaking for the first time
since they had entered the wardrobe in the staff room. "That's why
she was taken. It wasn't some stupid thing about Percy at all., She'd
found out something about the Chamber of Secrets. That must be why
she was -" Ron rubbed his eyes frantically. "I mean, she was a pureblood.
There can't be any other reason."
Harry could see the sun sinking, blood-red, below the skyline. This was
the worst he had ever felt. If only there was something they could do.
Anything.
"Harry" said Ron. "D'you think there's any chance at all she's not - you
know ="
Harry didn't know what to say. He couldn't see how Ginny could still
be alive.
"D'you know what?" said Ron. "I think we should go and see
Lockhart. Tell him what we know. He's going to try and get into the
Chamber. We can tell him where we think it is, and tell him it's a
basilisk in there."
Because Harry couldn't think of anything else to do, and because he
wanted to be doing something, he agreed. The Gryffindors around
them were so miserable, and felt so sorry for the Weasleys, that
nobody tried to stop them as they got up, crossed the room, and left
through the portrait hole.
Darkness was falling as they walked down to Lockhart's office.
There seemed to be a lot of activity going on inside it. They could hear
scraping, thumps, and hurried footsteps.
Harry knocked and there was a sudden silence from inside. Then the
door opened the tiniest crack and they saw one of Lockhart's eyes
peering through it.
"Oh - Mr. Potter - Mr. Weasley -" he said, opening the door a bit
wider. "I'm rather busy at the moment - if you would be quick -"
"Professor, we've got some information for you," said Harry. "We
think it'll help you."
"Er - well - it's not terribly -" The side of Lockhart's face that they
could see looked very uncomfortable. "I mean - well all right -"
He opened the door and they entered.
His office had been almost completely stripped. Two large trunks
stood open on the floor. Robes, jade-green, lilac, midnightblue, had
been hastily folded into one of them; books were jumbled untidily into
the other. The photographs that had covered the walls were now
crammed into boxes on the desk.
"Are you going somewhere?" said Harry.
"Er, well, yes," said Lockhart, ripping a life-size poster of himself from
the back of the door as he spoke and starting to roll it up. "Urgent call -
unavoidable - got to go -"
"What about my sister?" said Ron jerkily.
"Well, as to that - most unfortunate -" said Lockhart, avoiding their
eyes as he wrenched open a drawer and started emptying the contents
into a bag. "No one regrets more than I -"
"You're the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher!" said Harry.
"You can't go now! Not with all the Dark stuff going on here!"
"Well - I must say - when I took the job -" Lockhart muttered, now
piling socks on top of his robes. "nothing in the job description - didn't
expect -"
"You mean you're running away?" said Harry disbelievingly. "After all
that stuff you did in your books -"
"Books can be misleading," said Lockhart delicately.
"You wrote them!" Harry shouted.
"My dear boy," said Lockhart, straightening up and frowning at Harry.
"Do use your common sense. My books wouldn't have sold half as
well if people didn't think Id done all those things. No one wants to
read about some ugly old Armenian warlock, even if he did save a
village from werewolves. He'd look dreadful on the front cover. No
dress sense at all. And the witch who banished the Bandon Banshee
had a harelip. I mean, come on -"
"So you've just been taking credit for what a load of other people have
done?" said Harry incredulously.
"Harry, Harry," said Lockhart, shaking his head impatiently, "it's not
nearly as simple as that. There was work involved. I had
to track these people down. Ask them exactly how they managed to
do what they did. Then I had to put a Memory Charm on them so they
wouldn't remember doing it. If there's one thing I pride myself on, it's
my Memory Charms. No, it's been a lot of work, Harry. It's not all
book signings and publicity photos, you know. You want fame, you
have to be prepared for a long hard slog."
He banged the lids of his trunks shut and locked them.
"Let's see," he said. "I think that's everything. Yes. Only one thing
left."
He pulled out his wand and turned to them.
"Awfully sorry, boys, but I'll have to put a Memory Charm on you
now. Can't have you blabbing my secrets all over the place. Id never
sell another book -"
Harry reached his wand just in time. Lockhart had barely raised his,
when Harry bellowed, "Expelliarmus!"
Lockhart was blasted backward, falling over his trunk; his wand flew
high into the air; Ron caught it, and flung it out of the open window.
"Shouldn't have let Professor Snape teach us that one," said Harry
furiously, kicking Lockhart's trunk aside. Lockhart was looking up at
him, feeble once more. Harry was still pointing his wand at him.
"What d'you want me to do?" said Lockhart weakly. "I don't know
where the Chamber of Secrets is. There's nothing I can do."
"You're in luck," said Harry, forcing Lockhart to his feet at wandpoint.
"We think we know where it is. And what's inside it. Let's go."
They marched Lockhart out of his office and down the nearest stairs,
along the dark corridor where the messages shone on the wall, to the
door of Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.
They sent Lockhart in first. Harry was pleased to see that he was
shaking.
Moaning Myrtle was sitting on the tank of the end toilet.
"Oh, it's you," she said when she saw Harry. "What do you want this
time?"
"To ask you how you died," said Harry.
Myrtle's whole aspect changed at once. She looked as though she had
never been asked such a flattering question.
"Ooooh, it was dreadful," she said with relish. "It happened right in
here. I died in this very stall. I remember it so well. Id hidden because
Olive Hornby was teasing me about my glasses. The door was locked,
and I was crying, and then I heard somebody come in. They said
something funny. A different language, I think it must have been.
Anyway, what really got me was that it was a boy speaking. So I
unlocked the door, to tell him to go and use his own toilet, and then -"
Myrtle swelled importantly, her face shining. "I died."
"How?" said Harry.
"No idea," said Myrtle in hushed tones. "I just remember seeing a pair
of great, big, yellow eyes. My whole body sort of seized up, and then I
was floating away . . . ." She looked dreamily at Harry. "And then I
came back again. I was determined to haunt Olive Hornby, you see.
Oh, she was sorry she'd ever laughed at my glasses."
"Where exactly did you see the eyes?" said Harry.
"Somewhere there," said Myrtle, pointing vaguely toward the sink in
front of her toilet.
Harry and Ron hurried over to it. Lockhart was standing well back, a
look of utter terror on his face.
It looked like an ordinary sink. They examined every inch of it, inside
and out, including the pipes below. And then Harry saw it: Scratched
on the side of one of the copper taps was a tiny snake.
"That tap's never worked," said Myrtle brightly as he tried to turn it.
"Harry," said Ron. "Say something. Something in Parseltongue."
"But -" Harry thought hard. The only times he'd ever managed to
speak Parseltongue were when he'd been faced with a real snake. He
stared hard at the tiny- engraving, trying to imagine it was real.
"Open up," he said.
He looked at Ron, who shook his head.
"English," he said.
Harry looked back at the snake, willing himself to believe it was alive.
If he moved his head, the candlelight made it look as though it were
moving.
"Open up," he said.
Except that the words weren't what he heard; a strange hissing had
escaped him, and at once the tap glowed with a brilliant white light and
began to spin. Next second, the sink began to move; the sink, in fact,
sank, right out of sight, leaving a large pipe exposed, a pipe wide
enough for a man to slide into.
Harry heard Ron gasp and looked up again. He had made up his mind
what he was going to do.
"I'm going down there," he said. .
He couldn't not go, not now they had found the entrance to the
Chamber, not if there was even the faintest, slimmest, wildest chance
that Ginny might be alive.
"Me too," said Ron.
There was a pause.
"Well, you hardly seem to need me," said Lockhart, with a shadow
of his old smile. "I'll just -"
He put his hand on the door knob, but Ron and Harry both pointed
their wands at him.
"You can go first," Ron snarled.
White-faced and wandless, Lockhart approached the opening.
"Boys," he said, his voice feeble. "Boys, what good will it do?"
Harry jabbed him in the back with his wand. Lockhart slid his legs
into the pipe.
"I really don't think -" he started to say, but Ron gave him a push,
and he slid out of sight. Harry followed quickly. He lowered himself
slowly into the pipe, then let go.
It was like rushing down an endless, slimy, dark slide. He could see
more pipes branching off in all directions, but none as large as theirs,
which twisted and turned, sloping steeply downward, and he knew
that he was falling deeper below the school than even the dungeons.
Behind him he could hear Ron, thudding slightly at the curves.
And then, just as he had begun to worry about what would happen
when he hit the ground, the pipe leveled out, and he shot out of the
end with a wet thud, landing on the damp floor of a dark stone tunnel
large enough to stand in. Lockhart was getting to his
feet a little ways away, covered in slime and white as a ghost. Harry
stood aside as Ron came whizzing out of the pipe, too.
"We must be miles under the school," said Harry, his voice echoing in
the black tunnel.
"Under the lake, probably," said Ron, squinting around at the dark,
slimy walls.
All three of them turned to stare into the darkness ahead.
"Lumos!" Harry muttered to his wand and it lit again. "C'mon," he
said to Ron and Lockhart, and off they went, their footsteps slapping
loudly on the wet floor.
The tunnel was so dark that they could only see a little distance ahead.
Their shadows on the wet walls looked monstrous in the wandlight.
"Remember," Harry said quietly as they walked cautiously forward,
"any sign of movement, close your eyes right away . .....
But the tunnel was quiet as the grave, and the first unexpected sound
they heard was a loud crunch as Ron stepped on what turned out to be
a rat's skull. Harry lowered his wand to look at the floor and saw that
it was littered with small animal bones. Trying very hard not to
imagine what Ginny might look like if they found her, Harry led the
way forward, around a dark bend in the tunnel.
"Harry - there's something up there -" said Ron hoarsely, grabbing
Harry's shoulder.
They froze, watching. Harry could just see the outline of something
huge and curved, lying right across the tunnel. It wasn't moving.
"Maybe it's asleep," he breathed, glancing back at the other two.
Lockhart's hands were pressed over his eyes. Harry turned back to
look at the thing, his heart beating so fast it hurt.
Very slowly, his eyes as narrow as he could make them and still see,
Harry edged forward, his wand held high.
The light slid over a gigantic snake skin, of a vivid, poisonous green,
lying curled and empty across the tunnel floor. The creature that had
shed it must have been twenty feet long at least.
"Blimey," said Ron weakly.
There was a sudden movement behind them. Gilderoy Lockhart's
knees had given way.
"Get up," said Ron sharply, pointing his wand at Lockhart.
Lockhart got to his feet - then he dived at Ron, knocking him to the
ground.
Harry jumped forward, but too late - Lockhart was straightening up,
panting, Ron's wand in his hand and a gleaming smile back on his
face.
"The adventure ends here, boys!" he said. "I shall take a bit of this
skin back up to the school, tell them I was too late to save the girl,
and that you two tragically lost your minds at the sight of her
mangled body - say good-bye to your memories!"
He raised Ron's Spellotaped wand high over his head and yelled,
"Obliviate!"
The wand exploded with the force of a small bomb. Harry flung his
arms over his head and ran, slipping over the coils of snake skin, out
of the way of great chunks of tunnel ceiling that were thundering to
the floor. Next moment, he was standing alone, gazing at a solid wall
of broken rock.
"Ron!" he shouted. "Are you okay? Ron!"
"I'm here!" came Ron's muffled voice from behind the rockfall. "I'm
okay - this git's not, though - he got blasted by the wand ='
There was a dull thud and a loud "ow!" It sounded as though Ron had
just kicked Lockhart in the shins.
"What now?" Ron's voice said, sounding desperate. "We can't get
through - it'll take ages ......
Harry looked up at the tunnel ceiling. Huge cracks had appeared in it.
He had never tried to break apart anything as large as these rocks by
magic, and now didn't seem a good moment to try - what if the whole
tunnel caved in?
There was another thud and another "ow!" from behind the rocks.
They were wasting time. Ginny had already been in the Chamber of
Secrets for hours .... Harry knew there was only one thing to do.
"Wait there," he called to Ron. "Wait with Lockhart. I'll go on.... If I'm
not back in an hour. . .
There was a very pregnant pause,
"I'll try and shift some of this rock," said Ron, who seemed to be trying
to keep his voice steady. "So you can - can get back through. And,
Harry -"
"See you in a bit," said Harry, trying to inject some confidence into his
shaking voice.
And he set off alone past the giant snake skin.
Soon the distant noise of Ron straining to shift the rocks was gone.
The tunnel turned and turned again. Every nerve in Harry's body was
tingling unpleasantly. He wanted the tunnel to end, yet dreaded what
he'd find when it did. And then, at last, as he crept around yet another
bend, he saw a solid wall ahead on which two entwined serpents were
carved, their eyes set with great, glinting emeralds.
Harry approached, his throat very dry. There was no need to pretend
these stone snakes were real; their eyes looked strangely alive.
He could guess what he had to do. He cleared his throat, and the
emerald eyes seemed to flicker.
"Open, "said Harry, in a low, faint hiss.
The serpents parted as the wall cracked open, the halves slid smoothly
out of sight, and Harry, shaking from head to foot, walked inside.
e was standing at the end of a very long, dimly lit chamber. Towering
stone pillars entwined with more carved serpents rose to support a
ceiling lost in darkness, casting long, black shadows through the odd,
greenish gloom that filled the place.
His heart beating very fast, Harry stood listening to the chill silence.
Could the basilisk be lurking in a shadowy corner, behind a pillar? And
where was Ginny?
He pulled out his wand and moved forward between the serpentine
columns. Every careful footstep echoed loudly off the shadowy walls.
He kept his eyes narrowed, ready to clamp them shut at the smallest
sign of movement. The hollow eye sockets of the stone snakes
seemed to be following him. More than once, with a jolt of the
stomach, he thought he saw one stir.
Then, as he drew level with the last pair of pillars, a statue high as the
Chamber itself loomed into view, standing against the back wall.
Harry had to crane his neck to look up into the giant face above: It
was ancient and monkeyish, with a long, thin beard that fell almost to
the bottom of the wizard's sweeping stone robes, where two
enormous gray feet stood on the smooth Chamber floor. And between
the feet, facedown, lay a small, black-robed figure with flaming-red
hair.
"tinny!" Harry muttered, sprinting to her and dropping to his knees.
"tinny - don't be dead - please don't be dead -" He flung his wand
aside, grabbed Ginny's shoulders, and turned her over. Her face was
white as marble, and as cold, yet her eyes were closed, so she wasn't
Petrified. But then she must be
"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.
A tall, black-haired boy was leaning against the nearest pillar,
watching. He was strangely blurred around the edges, as though
Harry were looking at him through a misted window. But there was
no mistaking him
"Tom - Tom Riddle?"
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."
Harry 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 Harry had found in Moaning Myrtle's
bathroom. For a second, Harry wondered how it had got there - but
there were more pressing matters to deal with.
"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 -1)
Riddle didn't move. Harry, sweating, managed to hoist Ginny half off
the floor, and 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.
"Thanks," said Harry, stretching out his hand for it.
A smile curled the corners of Riddle's mouth. He continued to stare at
Harry, twirling the wand idly.
"Listen," said Harry urgently, his knees sagging with Ginny's dead
weight. "We've got to go! If the basilisk comes -"
"It won't come until it is called," said Riddle calmly.
Harry lowered Ginny back onto the floor, unable to hold her up any
longer.
"What d'you mean?" he said. "Look, give me my wand, I might need it
-"
Riddle's smile broadened.
"You won't be needing it," he said.
Harry stared at him.
"What d'you mean, I won't be -?"
"I've waited a long time for this, Harry Potter," said Riddle. "For the
chance to see you. To speak to you."
"Look," said Harry, losing patience, "I don't think you get it. We're in
the Chamber of Secrets. We can talk later -"
"We're going to talk now," said Riddle, still smiling broadly, and he
pocketed Harry's wand.
Harry stared at him. There was something very funny going on here
....
"How did Ginny get like this?" he asked slowly.
"Well, that's an interesting question," said Riddle pleasantly. "And quite
a long story. I suppose the real reason Ginny Weasley's like this is
because she opened her heart and spilled all her secrets to an invisible
stranger."
"What are you talking about?" said Harry.
"The diary," said Riddle. `My diary. Little Ginny's been writing in it for
months and months, telling me all her pitiful worries and woes - how
her brothers tease her, how she had to come to school with
secondhand robes and books, how" -Riddle's eyes glinted "how she
didn't think famous, good, great Harry Potter would ever like her . . . ."
All the time he spoke, Riddle's eyes never left Harry's face. There
was an almost hungry look in them.
"It's very boring, having to listen to the silly little troubles of an elevenyear-
old girl," he went on. "But I was patient. I wrote back. I was
sympathetic, I was kind. Ginny simply loved me. No one's ever
understood me like you, Tom .... I'm so glad I've got this diary to
confide in .... It's like having a friend I can carry around in my pocket . . . .
Riddle laughed, a high, cold laugh that didn't suit him. It made the hairs
stand up on the back of Harry's neck.
"If I say it myself, Harry, I've always been able to charm the people I
needed. So Ginny poured out her soul to me, and her soul happened to
be exactly what I wanted .... I grew stronger and stronger on a diet of
her deepest fears, her darkest secrets. I grew powerful, far more
powerful than little Miss Weasley. Powerful enough to start feeding
Miss Weasley a few of my secrets, to start pouring a little of my soul
back into her. . ."
"What d'you mean?" said Harry, whose mouth had gone very dry.
" Haven't you guessed yet, Harry Potter?" said Riddle softly. "Ginny
Weasley opened the Chamber of Secrets. She strangled the school
roosters and daubed threatening messages on the walls. She set the
Serpent of Slytherin on four Mudbloods, and the Squib's cat.
"No," Harry whispered.
"Yes," said Riddle, calmly. "Of course, she didn't know what she was
doing at first. It was very amusing. I wish you could have seen her
new diary entries ... far more interesting, they became .... Dear Tom,"
he recited, watching Harry's horrified face, `I think I'm losing my
memory. There are rooster feathers all over my robes and 1 don't know how
they got there. Dear Tom, l can't remember what 1 did on the night of
Halloween, but a cat was attacked and I've got paint all down my front.
Dear Tom, Percy keeps telling me I'm pale and I'm not myself. I think he
suspects me... There was another attack today
and I don't know where I was. Tom, what am I going to do? I think I'm
going mad... I think I'm the one attacking everyone, Tom!"
Harry's fists were clenched, the nails digging deep into his Palms.
"it took a very long time for stupid little Ginny to stop trusting her
diary," said Riddle. "But she finally became suspicious and tried to
dispose of it. And that's where you came in, Harry. You found it, and I
couldn't have been more delighted. Of all the people who could have
picked it up, it was you, the very person I was most anxious to meet . .
. ."
"And why did you want to meet me?" said Harry. Anger was coursing
through him, and it was an effort to keep his voice steady.
"Well, you see, Ginny told me all about you, Harry," said Riddle. "Your
whole fascinating history. " His eyes roved over the lightning scar on
Harry's forehead, and their expression grew hungrier. "I knew I must
find out more about you, talk to you, meet you if I could. So I decided
to show you my famous capture of that great oaf, Hagrid, to gain your
trust -"
"Hagrid's my friend," said Harry, his voice now shaking. "And you
framed him, didn't you? I thought you made a mistake, but -"
Riddle laughed his high laugh again.
"It was my word against Hagrid's, Harry. Well, you can imagine how
it looked to old Armando Dippet. On the one hand, Tom Riddle, poor
but brilliant, parentless but so brave, school prefect, model student ...
on the other hand, big, blundering Hagrid, in trouble every other week,
trying to raise werewolf cubs under his bed, sneaking off to the
Forbidden Forest to wrestle trolls ... but I
admit, even I was surprised how well the plan worked. I thought
someone must realize that Hagrid couldn't possibly be the Heir of
Slytherin. It had taken me five whole years to find out everything I
could about the Chamber of Secrets and discover the secret entrance
... as though Hagrid had the brains, or the power!
"Only the Transfiguration teacher, Dumbledore, seemed to think
Hagrid was innocent. He persuaded Dipper to keep Hagrid and train
him as gamekeeper. Yes, I think Dumbledore might have guessed ....
Dumbledore never seemed to like me as much as the other teachers
did ......
"I bet Dumbledore saw right through you," said Harry, his teeth gritted.
"Well, he certainly kept an annoyingly close watch on me after Hagrid
was expelled," said Riddle carelessly. "I knew it wouldn't be safe to
open the Chamber again while I was still at school. But I wasn't going
to waste those long years Id spent searching for it. I decided to leave
behind a diary, preserving my sixteen-year-old self in its pages, so that
one day, with luck, I would be able to lead another in my footsteps, and
finish Salazar Slytherin's noble work."
"Well, you haven't finished it," said Harry triumphantly. "No one's died
this time, not even the cat. In a few hours the Mandrake Draught will
be ready and everyone who was Petrified will be all right again -"
"Haven't I already told you," said Riddle quietly, "that killing Mudbloods
doesn't matter to me anymore? For many months now, my new target
has been -you."
Harry stared at him.
"Imagine how angry I was when the next time my diary was
opened, it was Ginny who was writing to me, not you. She saw you
with the diary, you see, and panicked. "What if you found out how to
work it, and I repeated all her secrets to you? What if, even worse, I
told you who'd been strangling roosters? So the foolish little brat waited
until your dormitory was deserted and stole it back. But I knew what I
must do. It was clear to me that you were on the trail of Slytherin's
heir. From everything Ginny had told me about you, I knew you would
go to any lengths to solve the mystery --
particularly if one of your best friends was attacked. And Ginny had
told me the whole school was buzzing because you could speak
Parseltongue ....
"So I made Ginny write her own farewell on the wall and come down
here to wait. She struggled and cried and became very boring. But
there isn't much life left in her .... She put too much into the diary, into
me. Enough to let me leave its pages at last .... I have been waiting for
you to appear since we arrived here. I knew you'd come. I have many
questions for you, Harry Potter."
"Like what?" Harry spat, fists still clenched.
"Well," said Riddle, smiling pleasantly, "how is it that you a skinny boy
with no extraordinary magical talent - managed to defeat the greatest
wizard of all time? How did you escape with nothing but a scar, while
Lord Voldemort's powers were destroyed?"
There was an odd red gleam in his hungry eyes now.
"Why do you care how I escaped?" said Harry slowly. "Voldemort was
after your time ......
"Voldemort," said Riddle softly, "is my past, present, and future, Harry
Potter . . . ."
He pulled Harry's wand from his pocket and began to trace it
through the air, writing three shimmering words:
TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE
Then he waved the wand once, and the letters of his name
rearranged themselves:
I AM LORD VOLDEMORT
"You see?" he whispered. "It was a name I was already using at
Hogwarts, to my most intimate friends only, of course. You think I
was going to use my filthy Muggle father's name forever? I, in whose
veins runs the blood of Salazar Slytherin himself, through my
mother's side? I, keep the name of a foul, common Muggle, who
abandoned me even before I was born, just because he found out his
wife was a witch? No, Harry - I fashioned myself a new name, a
name I knew wizards everywhere would one day fear to speak,
when I had become the greatest sorcerer in the world!"
Harry's brain seemed to have jammed. He stared numbly at Riddle,
at the orphaned boy who had grown up to murder Harry's own
parents, and so many others .... At last he forced himself to -,peak.
"You're not," he said, his quiet voice full of hatred.
"Not what?" snapped Riddle.
"Not the greatest sorcerer in the world," said Harry, breathing fast.
"Sorry to disappoint you and all that, but the greatest wizard in the
world is Albus Dumbledore. Everyone says so. Even when you were
strong, you didn't dare try and take over at Hogwarts. Dumbledore
saw through you when you were at school and he still frightens you
now, wherever you're hiding these days -"
The smile had gone from Riddle's face, to be replaced by a very ugly
look.
"Dumbledore's been driven out of this castle by the mere memory of
me!" he hissed.
"He's not as gone as you might think!" Harry retorted. He was
speaking at random, wanting to scare Riddle, wishing rather than
believing it to be true
Riddle opened his mouth, but froze.
Music was coming from somewhere. Riddle whirled around to stare
down the empty Chamber. The music was growing louder. It was
eerie, spine-tingling, unearthly; it lifted the hair on Harry's scalp and
made his heart feel as though it was swelling to twice its normal size.
Then, as the music reached such a pitch that Harry felt it vibrating
inside his own ribs, flames erupted at the top of the nearest pillar.
A crimson bird the size of a swan had appeared, piping its weird music
to the vaulted ceiling. It had a glittering golden tail as long as a
peacock's and gleaming golden talons, which were gripping a ragged
bundle.
A second later, the bird was flying straight at Harry. It dropped the
ragged thing it was carrying at his feet, then landed heavily on his
shoulder. As it folded its great wings, Harry looked up and saw it had a
long, sharp golden beak and a beady black eye.
The bird stopped singing. It sat still and warm next to Harry's cheek,
gazing steadily at Riddle.
"That's a phoenix said Riddle, staring shrewdly back at it.
"Fawkes?" Harry breathed, and he felt the bird's golden claws
squeeze his shoulder gently
"And that -" said Riddle, now eyeing the ragged thing that Fawkes had
dropped, "that's the old school Sorting Hat -"
So it was. Patched, frayed, and dirty, the hat lay motionless at Harry's
feet.
Riddle began to laugh again. He laughed so hard that the dark
chamber rang with it, as though ten Riddles were laughing at once
"This is what Dumbledore sends his defender! A songbird and an old
hat! Do you feel brave, Harry Potter? Do you feel safe now?"
Harry didn't answer. He might not see what use Fawkes or the
Sorting Hat were, but he was no longer alone, and he waited for
Riddle to stop laughing with his courage mounting.
"To business, Harry," said Riddle, still smiling broadly. "Twice - in your
past, in my future - we have met. And twice I failed to kill you. How
did you survive? Tell me everything. The longer you talk," he added
softly, "the longer you stay alive."
Harry was thinking fast, weighing his chances. Riddle had the wand.
He, Harry, had Fawkes and the Sorting Hat, neither of which would
be much good in a duel. It looked bad, all right ... but the longer Riddle
stood there, the more life was dwindling out of Ginny ... and in the
meantime, Harry noticed suddenly, Riddle's outline was becoming
clearer, more solid .... If it had to be a fight between him and Riddle,
better sooner than later.
"No one knows why you lost your powers when you attacked me,"
said Harry abruptly. "I don't know myself But I know why you
couldn't kill me. Because my mother died to save me. My common
Muggle-born mother," he added, shaking with suppressed rage. "She
stopped you killing me. And I've seen the real you, I saw you last
year. You're a wreck. You're barely alive. That's where all your
power got you. You're in hiding. You're ugly, you're foul -"
Riddle's face contorted. Then he forced it into an awful smile. "So.
Your mother died to save you. Yes, that's a powerful countercharm. I
can see now ... there is nothing special about you, after all. I
wondered, you see. There are strange likenesses between us, after all.
Even you must have noticed. Both half-bloods, orphans, raised by
Muggles. Probably the only two Parselmouths to come to Hogwarts
since the great Slytherin himself We even look something alike ... but
after all, it was merely a lucky chance that saved you from me. That's
all I wanted to know."
Harry stood, tense, waiting for Riddle to raise his wand. But Riddle's
twisted smile was widening again.
"Now, Harry, I'm going to teach you a little lesson. Let's match the
powers of Lord Voldemort, Heir of Salazar Slytherin, against famous
Harry Potter, and the best weapons Dumbledore can give him . . . ."
He cast an amused eye over Fawkes and the Sorting Hat, then walked
away. Harry, fear spreading up his numb legs, watched Ridthe stop
between the high pillars and look up into the stone face of Slytherin,
high above him in the half-darkness. Riddle opened his mouth wide and
hissed - but Harry understood what he was saying ....
"Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four. "
Harry wheeled around to look up at the statue, Fawkes swaying on his
shoulder.
Slytherin's gigantic stone face was moving. Horrorstruck, Harry saw
his mouth opening, wider and wider, to make a huge black hole.
And something was stirring inside the statue's mouth. Something
was slithering up from its depths. 3 1
Harry backed away until he hit the dark Chamber wall, and as he shut
his eyes tight he felt Fawkes' wing sweep his cheek as he took flight.
Harry wanted to shout, "Don't leave me!" but what chance did a
phoenix have against the king of serpents?
Something huge hit the stone floor of the Chamber. Harry felt it
shudder - he knew what was happening, he could sense it, could
almost see the giant serpent uncoiling itself from Slytherin's mouth.
Then he heard Riddle's hissing voice:
"Kill him. "
The basilisk was moving toward Harry; he could hear its heavy body
slithering heavily across the dusty floor. Eyes still tightly shut, Harry
began to run blindly sideways, his hands outstretched, feeling his way -
Voldemort was laughing
Harry tripped. He fell hard onto the stone and tasted blood the serpent
was barely feet from him, he could hear it coming
There was a loud, explosive spitting sound right above him, and then
something heavy hit Harry so hard that he was smashed into the wall.
Waiting for fangs to sink through his body he heard more mad hissing,
something thrashing wildly off the pillars
He couldn't help it - he opened his eyes wide enough to squint at what
was going on.
The enormous serpent, bright, poisonous green, thick as an oak trunk,
had raised itself high in the air and its great blunt head was weaving
drunkenly between the pillars. As Harry trembled, ready to close his
eyes if it turned, he saw what had distracted the snake.
Fawkes was soaring around its head, and the basilisk was snapping
furiously at him with fangs long and thin as sabers
Fawkes dived. His long golden beak sank out of sight and a
sudden shower of dark blood spattered the floor. The snake's tail
thrashed, narrowly missing Harry, and before Harry could shut his
eyes, it turned - Harry looked straight into its face and saw that its
eyes, both its great, bulbous yellow eyes, had been punctured by the
phoenix; blood was streaming to the floor, and the snake was spitting
in agony.
"NO!" Harry heard Riddle screaming. "LEAVE THE BIRD! LEAVE
THE BIRD! THE BOY IS BEHIND YOU. YOU CAN STILL SMELL
HIM. KILL HIMI"
The blinded serpent swayed, confused, still deadly. Fawkes was
circling its head, piping his eerie song, jabbing here and there at its
scaly nose as the blood poured from its ruined eyes.
"Help me, help me," Harry muttered wildly, "someone - anyone
The snake's tail whipped across the floor again. Harry ducked.
Something soft hit his face.
The basilisk had swept the Sorting Hat into Harry's arms. Harry
seized it. It was all he had left, his only chance - he rammed it onto his
head and threw himself flat onto the floor as the basilisk's tail swung
over him again.
Help me - help me - Harry thought, his eyes screwed tight under the hat.
Please help me
There was no answering voice. Instead, the hat contracted, as though
an invisible hand was squeezing it very tightly.
Something very hard and heavy thudded onto the top of Harry's head,
almost knocking him out. Stars winking in front of his eyes, he grabbed
the top of the hat to pull it off and felt something long and hard
beneath it.
A gleaming silver sword had appeared inside the hat, its handle
glittering with rubies the size of eggs.
"KILL THE BOY! LEAVE THE BIRD! THE BOY IS BEHIND YOU.
SNIFF -- SMELL HIM."
Harry was on his feet, ready. The basilisk's head was falling, its body
coiling around, hitting pillars as it twisted to face him. He could see the
vast, bloody eye sockets, see the mouth stretching wide, wide enough
to swallow him whole, lined with fangs long as his sword, thin,
glittering, venomous -
It lunged blindly -- Harry dodged and it hit the Chamber wall. It lunged
again, and its forked tongue lashed Harry's side. He raised the sword
in both his hands -
The basilisk lunged again, and this time its aim was true -- Harry threw
his whole weight behind the sword and drove it to the hilt into the roof
of the serpent's mouth -
But as warm blood drenched Harry's arms, he felt a searing pain just
above his elbow. One long, poisonous fang was sinking deeper and
deeper into his arm and it splintered as the basilisk keeled over
sideways and fell, twitching, to the floor.
Harry slid down the wall. He gripped the fang that was spreading
poison through his body and wrenched it out of his arm. But he knew it
was too late. White-hot pain was spreading slowly and steadily from
the wound. Even as he dropped the fang and watched his own blood
soaking his robes, his vision went foggy. The Chamber was dissolving
in a whirl of dull color.
A patch of scarlet swam past, and Harry heard a soft clatter of claws
beside him.
"Fawkes," said Harry thickly. "You were fantastic, Fawkes . . . ."
He felt the bird lay its beautiful head on the spot where the serpent's
fang had pierced him.
He could hear echoing footsteps and then a dark shadow moved in
front of him.
"You're dead, Harry Potter," said Riddle's voice above him. "Dead.
Even Dumbledore's bird knows it. Do you see what he's doing, Potter?
He's crying."
Harry blinked. Fawke's head slid in and out of focus. Thick, pearly tears
were trickling down the glossy feathers.
"I'm going to sit here and watch you die, Harry Potter. Take your time.
I'm in no hurry."
Harry felt drowsy. Everything around him seemed to be spinning.
"So ends the famous Harry Potter," said Riddle's distant voice. "Alone
in the Chamber of Secrets, forsaken by his friends, defeated at last by
the Dark Lord he so unwisely challenged. You'll be back with your dear
Mudblood mother soon, Harry... She bought you twelve years of
borrowed time ... but Lord Voldemort got you in the end, as you knew
he must . . . ."
If this is dying, thought Harry, it's not so bad.
Even the pain was leaving him ....
But was this dying? Instead of going black, the Chamber seemed to be
coming back into focus. Harry gave his head a little shake and there was
Fawkes, still resting his head on Harry's arm. A pearly patch of tears was
shining all around the wound -- except that there was no wound
"Get away, bird," said Riddle's voice suddenly. "Get away from him -
I said, get away --"
Harry raised his head. Riddle was pointing Harry's wand at
Fawkes; there was a bang like a gun, and Fawkes took flight again in a
whirl of gold and scarlet.
"Phoenix tears. - ." said Riddle quietly, staring at Harry's arm. "Of
course ... healing powers ... I forgot. . ."
He looked into Harry's face. "But it makes no difference. In fact, I
prefer it this way. Just you and me, Harry Potter ... you and me....
He raised the wand
Then, in a rush of wings, Fawkes had soared back overhead and
something fell into Harry's lap -- the diary.
For a split second, both Harry and Riddle, wand still raised, stared at it.
Then, without thinking, without considering, as though he had meant to
do it all along, Harry seized the basilisk fang on the floor next to him
and plunged it straight into the heart of the book.
There was a long, dreadful, piercing scream. Ink spurted out of the
diary in torrents, streaming over Harry's hands, flooding the floor.
Riddle was writhing and twisting, screaming and flailing and then
He had gone. Harry's wand fell to the floor with a clatter and there
was silence. Silence except for the steady drip drip of ink still oozing
from the diary. The basilisk venom had burned a sizzling hole right
through it.
Shaking all over, Harry pulled himself up. His head was spinning as
though he'd just traveled miles by Floo powder. Slowly, he gathered
together his wand and the Sorting Hat, and, with a huge tug, retrieved
the glittering sword from the roof of the basilisk's mouth.
Then came a faint moan from the end of the Chamber. Ginny was
stirring. As Harry hurried toward her, she sat up. Her bemused
eyes traveled from the huge form of the dead basilisk, over Harry, in
his blood-soaked robes, then to the diary in his hand. She drew a great,
shuddering gasp and tears began to pour down her face.
"Harry -- oh, Harry -- I tried to tell you at b-breakfast, but I c-couldn't
say it in front of Percy -- it was me, Harry -- but I -- I s-swear I ddiddt
mean to -- R-Riddle made me, he t-took me over -- and - how
did you kill that -- that thing? W-where's Riddle? The last thing I rremember
is him coming out of the diary --"
" It's all right," said Harry, holding up the diary, and showing Ginny the
fang hole, "Riddle's finished. Look! Him and the basilisk. C'mon,
Ginny, let's get out of here --"
"I'm going to be expelled!" Ginny wept as Harry helped her
awkwardly to her feet. "I've looked forward to coming to Hogwarts
ever since B-Bill came and n-now I'll have to leave and -- w-what'll
Mum and Dad say?"
Fawkes was waiting for them, hovering in the Chamber entrance.
Harry urged Ginny forward; they stepped over the motionless coils of
the dead basilisk, through the echoing gloom, and back into the tunnel.
Harry heard the stone doors close behind them with a soft hiss.
After a few minutes' progress up the dark tunnel, a distant sound of
slowly shifting rock reached Harry's ears.
"Ron!" Harry yelled, speeding up. "Ginny's okay! I've got her!"
He heard Ron give a strangled cheer, and they turned the next bend to
see his eager face staring through the sizable gap he had managed to
make in the rock fall.
"Ginny!" Ron thrust an arm through the gap in the rock to pull
her through first. "You're alive! I don't believe it! What happened?"
How - what -- where did that bird come from?"
Fawkes had swooped through the gap after Ginny.
"He's Dumbledore's," said Harry, squeezing through himself
"How come you've got a sword?" said Ron, gaping at the glittering
weapon in Harry's hand.
"I'll explain when we get out of here," said Harry with a sideways
glance at Ginny, who was crying harder than ever.
"But --"
"Later," Harry said shortly. He didn't think it was a good idea to tell
Ron yet who'd been opening the Chamber, not in front of Ginny,
anyway. "Where's Lockhart?"
"Back there," said Ron, still looking puzzled but jerking his head up the
tunnel toward the pipe. "He's in a bad way. Come and see."
Led by Fawkes, whose wide scarlet wings emitted a soft golden glow
in the darkness, they walked all the way back to the mouth of the pipe.
Gilderoy Lockhart was sitting there, humming placidly to himself.
"His memory's gone," said Ron. "The Memory Charm backfired. Hit
him instead of us. Hasn't got a clue who he is, or where he is, or who
we are. I told him to come and wait here. He's a danger to himself"
Lockhart peered good-naturedly up at them all.
"Hello," he said. "Odd sort of place, this, isn't it? Do you live here?"
"No," said Ron, raising his eyebrows at Harry.
Harry bent down and looked up the long, dark pipe.
"Have you thought how we're going to get back up this?" he said to
Ron.
Ron shook his head, but Fawkes the phoenix had swooped past Harry
and was now fluttering in front of him, his beady eyes bright in the
dark. He was waving his long golden tail feathers. Harry looked
uncertainly at him.
"He looks like he wants you to grab hold. . ." said Ron, looking
perplexed. "But you're much too heavy for a bird to pull up there -"
"Fawkes," said Harry, "isn't an ordinary bird." He turned quickly to the
others. "We've got to hold on to each other. Ginny, grab Ron's hand.
Professor Lockhart --"
"He means you," said Ron sharply to Lockhart.
"You hold Ginny's other hand --"
Harry tucked the sword and the Sorting Hat into his belt, Ron took
hold of the back of Harry's robes, and Harry reached out and took
hold of Fawkes's strangely hot tail feathers.
An extraordinary lightness seemed to spread through his whole body
and the next second, in a rush of wings, they were flying upward
through the pipe. Harry could hear Lockhart dangling below him,
saying, "Amazing! Amazing! This is just like magic!" The chill air was
whipping through Harry's hair, and before he'd stopped enjoying the
ride, it was over -- all four of them were hitting the wet floor of
Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, and as Lockhart straightened his hat, the
sink that hid the pipe was sliding back into place.
Myrtle goggled at them.
"You're alive," she said blankly to Harry.
"There's no need to sound so disappointed," he said grimly, wiping
flecks of blood and slime off his glasses.
"Oh, well ... Id just been thinking ... if you had died, you'd have been
welcome to share my toilet," said Myrtle, blushing silver.
"Urgh!" said Ron as they left the bathroom for the dark, deserted
corridor outside. "Harry! I think Myrtle's grown fond of you! You've
got competition, Ginny!"
But tears were still flooding silently down Ginny's face.
"Where now?" said Ron, with an anxious look at Ginny. Harry pointed.
Fawkes was leading the way, glowing gold along the corridor. They
strode after him, and moments later, found themselves outside
Professor McGonagall's office.
Harry knocked and pushed the door open.