Chapter Nine: Answers
That night Dean snuck out of Gryffindor tower at a quarter to eleven. He had no idea where the Slytherin common room actually was, so he had no idea how long it would take him to find it. All he knew was that it was in the dungeons. He put on Harish's Invisibility Cloak, taking a moment to admire the thought of being invisible, before setting off down the corridor. He made it to the dungeons and wandered around a bit before he spotted Harish, who luckily had thought of waiting outside for him.
Dean pulled the cloak off of his head. "Harish!" he exclaimed.
"Let me under," Harish whispered.
Harish got under the cloak as well and then he guided Dean deeper into the castle.
"Where are we going?" Dean whispered.
"Somewhere where no one will overhear us," Harish replied.
"Why all this secrecy?" Dean asked, but the other boy hushed him as they came to a stop at a door. "Hang on, that door wasn't there before!" he exclaimed.
"I know," Harish replied, opening the door and ushering him inside. Once there, he tucked the cloak into his pocket. "This room is only here when someone needs it. It's called the Room of Requirement. I discovered it quite recently by mistake."
Dean nodded.
"So I guess I have some explaining to do?" Harish asked, sitting down in a chair that had just appeared. Dean sat in the other one, nodding. "I shall start by saying that anything that will told you here, you must never repeat to anyone. Note that if you agree, you are making a magical contract with me." The younger boy nodded and some sort of magic in the room glowed around the two of them, making a contract. "I am the heir of Slytherin."
Dean looked shocked. "So you—you were the one who—but how? I was with you the whole time! Both times!"
"You misunderstood me," Harish replied calmly. "I am Slytherin's heir, but I did not cause any of the attacks. My grandmother, Merope Gaunt, was descended straight from Salazar Slytherin himself. This summer, my father started freaking out because some diary of his was stolen. I am sure you remember Dobby mentioning a diary in the Hospital Wing?"
Dean nodded.
"That was it. Apparently it was behind the previous opening of the Chamber, therefore the opening of it this time. I have no idea what the monster is and who planted the diary at the school, but I am trying to find where the Chamber is."
"So you're trying to find it?" Dean asked.
Harish nodded. "I also have one more thing. In exchange for the trust that you will not tell anyone that I really am the heir, I will help you find your father."
Dean, who had been surprised a lot in the past few minutes, looked even more shocked if possible. "You know who my father is?"
Harish nodded. "And I will tell you once I have found the Chamber without interference."
Before he went to bed that night, Harish wrote a letter to his father, asking about the diary. He figured he would need to know more about it if he was to find it or the Chamber. Over the next week or so, he waited for a reply, but didn't receive one. He still hadn't gotten a reply by Christmas. Valentine's Day passed horribly, but with no letter still.
Finally, one morning, Augustus flew in with the other owls to deliver post, and he dropped and envelope in his lap. The twins looked at him questionably, but Harish decided that he would need to open it that night in the privacy of the common room.
So, he went to his classes as usual. After Transfiguration, however, he stopped short at the sound of Filch's wheezy voice. The twins stopped alongside him.
"Wait up for me in the common room," he told them and they walked off, leaving him alone.
"—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 out of earshot and the boy heard a distant slam. He poked his head around the corner to see that he was once again at the corridor where Mrs. Norris had been attacked. He saw at a glance what Filch had been shouting at. There was a huge puddle of water stretching from Moaning Myrtle's bathroom to halfway down the corridor, and it looked as though it was still seeping out from under the door. Myrtle's wails echoed off of the bathroom walls.
"Now what's wrong with her?" he muttered to no one in particular, picking up his robes and walking through the puddle to the door.
Ignoring the Out of Order sign, he opened the door and walked into the bathroom. Moaning Myrtle was crying, if possible, harder than ever. It sounded as if she was hiding down in her usual toilet. The bathroom was dark because all of the candles had been extinguished by the water that had left the walls and floor soaked.
"Why are you crying again Myrtle?" he asked irritably.
"Who's that?" she glugged miserably. "Come to throw something else at me?"
"Why would I throw something at you?" he asked out of curiosity. He waded to her stall as she emerged from her toilet, splashing even more water everywhere.
"Don't ask me," Myrtle shouted. "Here I am, minding my business, when someone thinks it's funny to throw a book at me."
"Well, who threw it at you?"
"I don't know…I was sitting in the U-bend, thinking about death, when it fell through the top of my head," she nodded and whispered pathetically. "It's over there, it got washed out…"
Harish looked under the sink where Myrtle was pointing to see a small, black book sitting there. It's cover was shabby and it was as wet as everything else in the bathroom. When he picked it up, however, it was completely dry. He opened the book and one the first page where the words "T.M. Riddle" in smudged ink. Harish peeled the pages apart and flipped through them. There wasn't a single trace of any writing on a single one. The teen turned back to the first page before realizing that T.M. Riddle was his father, Tom Marvolo Riddle.
Harish had found the diary! Letter forgotten, he ran straight to the common room. Ginny spotted him and her eyes darted from him to the diary.
"Where are you going?" she asked, looking pale.
"Out of my way!" he exclaimed hurriedly and ran to his dormitory, with the book still clutched in his hand, and pulled the curtains around his bed. He pulled a quill and some ink out of his trunk and dropped it onto the page. Like he had expected, the ink was sucked into the page. After thinking for a moment, Harish wrote, "My name is Harish Blake."
The words shone on the page for a moment before disappearing. Then, oozing out of the page, in his very own ink came words he hadn't written.
"Hello Harish Blake. My name is Tom Riddle. How did you come by my diary?"
Harish jumped, dropping the diary, and he scuttled backwards. Then, out of curiosity, he reopened the diary.
"Someone tried to flush it down the toilet," he finally wrote.
"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?" Harish asked it, his curiosity growing with every second. He could get the diary to tell how it had been opening the Chamber!
"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."
"Can you tell me?" Harish wrote as quickly as possible.
"No."
Harish sat back, frustrated.
"But I can show you,"
Harish paused, wondering if he should listen to the diary at all. Whatever it was, it was dangerous. Really dangerous, since it scared even his father.
"OK," he finally wrote.
Then, the pages began blowing by, as though caught in a strong gust of wind. It stopped halfway through the month of June. Harish shut his mouth closed when he realized he had left it hanging open. The words June thirtieth had turned into a little window. He put his eye to the window, trying to see if he could see through it, and then he found himself being lurched off of his bed and falling headfirst through the page and into a whirl of colour.
Harish felt his feet hit solid ground, and stood, shaking. He was definitely unnerved, having never experienced anything like a book talking to him, or throwing him headfirst into some memory. The blurred shapes around him suddenly came into focus, and he realized he knew where he was. He was in the castle, but now in the headmaster's office. Instead of Dumbledore sitting behind the desk, however, there was an elderly looking wizard sitting there. He had a few wisps of white hair and was reading a letter by candle light.
There was a knock on the door.
"Enter," the wizard said in a feeble voice.
A boy of about sixteen entered, taking off his pointed hat. A silver prefect's badge gleamed on his chest. He was taller than Harish, but not by much, and had the same pale, pointed face. Harish jumped and stared at the boy.
"Father?" he asked, for he was indeed staring at the sixteen-year-old version of his father, Tom Riddle.
Tom, didn't seem to hear Harish, but walked into the room.
"You wanted to see me Professor Dippet?" he asked, looking nervous.
"Sit down," Dippet replied. "I've just been reading your letter."
"Oh," Tom said, sitting down and gripping his hands together very tightly.
"My dear boy," Dippet said kindly. "I cannot possibly let you stay at school over the summer. Surely you want to go home for the holidays?"
"No," Tom said at once. "I'd much rather stay here at Hogwarts than go back to that—to that—"
"You live in a Muggle orphanage, I believe?" Dippet asked curiously.
Harish's eyes widened. Muggle orphanage?
"Yes, sir," Tome replied, his face turning a delicate shade of pink.
"You are Muggle-born?"
"Half-blood, sir," Tom corrected. "Witch mother, muggle father."
Harish's eyes widened even further. He had never known his grandfather was a Muggle. All he had known was that his grandmother was a descendant of Slytherin, and both had died before his father had come of age.
"And are both your parents—"
"My mother died just after I was born, sir. They told me at the orphanage that she name me Tom after my father and Marvolo after my grandfather."
Dippet 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?" he asked and Harish began listening intently.
"Precisely," the headmaster replied. "My dear boy, you must see how foolish it would be to allow you to remain at the castle when term ends. Particularly in light of the recent tragedy…the death of that poor girl…You will be safer by far at your orphanage. As a matter of fact, the Ministry of Magic is even now talking of closing the school. We are no nearer at locating the—uh—source of all this unpleasantness…"
Tom's eyes widened.
"Sir—if the person was caught—if it all stopped—"
"What do you mean?" Dippet asked with a squeak in his voice. "Riddle, do you mean you know something about these attacks?"
"No, sir," Tom replied quickly.
Dippet sank back, looking disappointed.
"Very well, you may go, Tom…"
Tom slid off his chair and slouched out of the room. His son followed him. They went down a spiralling stair case and past a stone gargoyle. Tom stopped and so did Harish. Harish could tell that he was thinking pretty hard; his forehead was furrowed and he was biting his lip.
Then, as though he had come to a decision, he hurried off, Harish gliding noiselessly behind. They didn't see another person until they reached the entrance hall, when a tall wizard with a long red beard called to Harish's father from the staircase.
"What are you doing, wandering around this late, Tom?"
Harish gaped at the wizard, but shut his mouth again. It was none other than a fifty-years-younger Dumbledore.
"I had to see the headmaster, sir," Tom replied.
"Well hurry off to bed," Dumbledore said, giving Tom the exact persecuting stare that Harish had been subjected to numerous times. "Best not to roam the corridors these days. Not since…" he sighed and then looked up at the young Voldemort, asking him the very question that he had asked Harish on Halloween night. "Is there anything you wish to tell me, Tom? Anything at all?"
Tom stared at the old man before replying, "No sir."
Dumbledore nodded, bid the teen goodnight, and walked up the stairs. Once he was completely out of sight, Tom headed off to the dungeons, with Harsh close behind. He walked into the Potions dungeon. The torches hadn't been lit, so when he pushed the door almost closed, Harish could only just see him, standing frozen by the door, watching the passage outside.
They waited there ages until he heard something move beyond the door. Someone was creeping along the passage. Tom, quiet as a shadow, edged through the door and followed, Harish did so as well. They followed the footsteps for nearly five minutes until the young Voldemort stopped suddenly and inclined his head toward the direction of new noises, Harish 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…"
Tome suddenly jumped around the corner and Harish stepped out after him. He could see the dark outline of a huge boy who was crouching in front on an open door, a very large box next to it.
"Evening Rubeus," Tom said sharply.
The boy slammed the door shut and stood up.
"What yer doin' down here Tom?"
Tom 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 soon."
"What d'yeh—"
"I don't think you meant to kill anyone, but monster don't make good pets. I suppose you just let it out for exercise and—"
"It never killed no one!" the large boy said, backing up against the door. From behind him, Harish could hear an odd clicking noise.
"Come on, Rubeus," Tom said moving even closer. "The dead girl's parents will be here tomorrow. The least we can do is to make sure that the thing that killed their daughter is slaughtered…"
"It wasn't him!" the boy roared, his voice echoing down the dark passage. "He wouldn't! He never!"
"Stand aside," Tom said, drawing out his wand.
He cast a spell that lit the corridor with a sudden, flaming light. The door behind the large boy flew open and a giant, hairy body came scuttling out. Riddle raised his wand again, but he was too late. The thing had scuttled up the corridor and out of sight. Tom scrambled after it, but the huge boy seized his wand, threw him back down, and shouted, "NOOOOO!"
The scene whirled and Harish felt himself falling. With a crash he landed spread eagle on his bed in the Slytherin dormitory, his father's diary lying open on his stomach. Harish sat up with a jolt. If what he had seen was true, then everything he had hypothesised was wrong. Then, he remembered the letter his father—his present father—had sent him. He scrambled off his bed and pulled it out of his book bag. Then, he climbed back on it and read the letter.
Dear Harish,
I regret not telling you earlier. I know you were angry with my being so occupied over the summer. I guess I shall start with saying that on Christmas of my fourth year, I received a diary. Now being a fourteen-year-old boy I wanted to have nothing to do with a diary. I didn't want to be seen writing in it. But, later I decided I could use it in an experiment I had thought of.
I wanted to see if I could make an interactive diary. A diary where you could store your memories, then later access them by asking to see them once again. I put several spells into it and then my memories were inserted. I could access the memories, but I could not figure out how to make the diary interact with me. I spent all summer studying up on it.
Then, at the beginning of my fifth year I tried to use a ritual that would create a copy of myself inside the diary, but something went wrong. A demon possessed the process, I guess, but the project went haywire. A corporeal version of myself with red eyes emerged from the diary and opened the Chamber of Secrets.
It took me a while to figure out that it was actually the diary causing the attacks, but by the time I did, a girl had already been killed. I didn't want to be locked away for something I never did, so afraid for myself, I framed Hagrid for the attacks, went down to the Chamber, and locked the being away in the diary. I cast many spells on it to keep the being inside and then entrusted the diary to Abraxas Malfoy, telling him that the diary was dangerous and it needed to be locked away.
Early this year it was stolen. Now, if the Chamber of Secrets is open again, that means that the diary is on the loose. I am afraid that it will be up to you to find the Chamber and put a stop to these attacks. If you find the diary, do not use it, but destroy it. It is very dangerous, and under no circumstances is it to fall into Dumbledore's hands.
Good Luck,
Your very concerned father.
The dormitory door opened that moment and the twins came inside. Harish ripped the curtains aside.
"There you are!" George exclaimed.
At seeing Harish's face, the twins then asked, "What's wrong?"
Harish held up the diary in one hand and the letter in the other. Then he shoved the letter into their hands. "I've figured it out."