He 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? Where was Ginny?'
He pulled out his wand and moved forward between the serpentine columns. Every careful footstep echoed loudly off the grey walls. He narrowed his eyes, ready to clamp them shut at the slightest sign of movement. But, instead, 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 grey feet stood on the smooth Chamber floor. And between the feet, facedown, lay a small, black-robed figure with flaming-red hair.
"Ginny!" Harry muttered, sprinting to her and dropping to his knees. "Ginny — 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 big toes. The little black diary Harry had found in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom was lying open. 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."
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 spilt 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 second-hand 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 eleven-year-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 secrets and 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. First, she strangled the school roosters and daubed threatening messages on the walls. Next, 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; I don't know how they got there. Dear Tom, I can't remember what I 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 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!'"