"You may go, Tom."
Riddle slid from his chair and left the room, his expression thoughtful as he stepped through the doorway.
Harry followed him at once, gliding silently behind him as they descended the moving spiral staircase and emerged beside the gargoyle in the darkening corridor.
Riddle stopped there.
Harry stopped as well, watching him carefully. He could tell that the older boy was doing some serious thinking.
Riddle was biting his lip, his forehead furrowed as he stared down the corridor, seemingly weighing something over in his mind.
Then, as though he had suddenly reached a decision, he turned and hurried away, with Harry following noiselessly behind him.
They didn't encounter another person until they reached the entrance hall.
A tall wizard with long, sweeping auburn hair and a beard was standing on the marble staircase. He looked towards Riddle and called out, "What are you doing, wandering around this late, Tom?"
Harry stared at him in surprise.
He knew that face.
The wizard was none other than Albus Dumbledore, fifty years younger than the man Harry knew, but unmistakable all the same.
"I had to see the headmaster, sir," said Riddle.
"Well, hurry off to bed," said Dumbledore, giving Riddle the same penetrating stare Harry knew so well. "Best not to roam the corridors these days. Not since..."
He sighed heavily and shook his head.
"Good night, Tom."
"Good night, Professor."
Dumbledore turned and strode away, his robes sweeping behind him as he disappeared.
Riddle watched him go.
He waited until Dumbledore was completely out of sight before turning away and moving quickly down the stone steps leading towards the dungeons. Harry followed closely behind, wondering what Riddle was planning now.
They eventually reached a dark stretch of corridor deep within the dungeons.
Riddle stopped beside a doorway and slipped into the shadows.
Harry followed him inside.
For what seemed like an hour, neither of them moved.
There was almost nothing for Harry to do except watch Riddle standing near the door, staring through the narrow crack between it and the frame.
He stood as still as a statue, his eyes fixed on the corridor beyond, apparently waiting for someone, or something, to appear.
At first, Harry remained tense and alert, wondering what Riddle was waiting for. But as the minutes dragged on, his anticipation slowly faded, replaced by impatience.
He was beginning to wonder whether anything was going to happen at all and was even starting to wish he could return to the present when he heard something move beyond the door.
Harry immediately straightened.
Someone was creeping along the passage.
The footsteps were quiet, careful, and deliberate.
Harry heard whoever it was pass the dungeon where he and Riddle were hiding.
Riddle moved at once.
Quiet as a shadow, he slipped through the doorway and followed the person down the corridor. Harry hurried after him, forgetting for a moment that he couldn't actually be heard in the memory.
They followed the footsteps for several minutes, turning through one corridor after another.
Then Riddle stopped suddenly.
New noises were coming from somewhere ahead.
Harry listened as well.
A door creaked open.
Then someone spoke in a hoarse whisper.
"C'mon... gotta get yeh outta here. C'mon now... in the box..."
Harry froze.
There was something familiar about that voice.
Very familiar.
Riddle suddenly moved around the corner.
Harry stepped out behind him.
There, crouching in front of an open door, was the dark outline of a huge boy. He was bent over something on the floor, and beside him stood a very large wooden box.
Harry stared at the scene.
He had a terrible feeling that he knew exactly what they were about to find.
"Evening, Rubeus," said Riddle sharply.
The huge boy immediately slammed the door shut and straightened up. Harry could now see him more clearly. He was enormous, with shaggy hair and a broad, nervous face that looked strangely familiar.
"What yer doin' down here, Tom?" Rubeus asked.
Riddle stepped closer, his expression hardening.
"It's all over," he said. "I'm going to have to turn you in, Rubeus. They're talking about closing Hogwarts if these attacks don't stop."
"What d'yeh ..."
"I don't think you meant to kill anyone," Riddle interrupted. "But monsters don't make very good pets. I suppose you simply let it out for exercise and..."
"It killed no one!" the large boy protested, backing against the closed door.
From behind him came a strange rustling and clicking sound.
"Come on, Rubeus," said Riddle, moving closer. "The dead girl's parents will be here tomorrow. The least Hogwarts can do is make sure that whatever killed their daughter is slaughtered."
"It wasn't him!" roared the boy.
His voice echoed through the dark passage.
"He wouldn'! He never!"
"Stand aside," said Riddle.
He drew his wand.
A flash of light burst from its tip, illuminating the corridor with a sudden, almost blinding glow.
The door behind Rubeus flew open with such force that it knocked the huge boy sideways into the opposite wall.
And then something came rushing out.
Harry's mouth fell open.
A vast, low-slung, hairy body came scuttling through the doorway, followed by a tangle of enormous black legs. Countless dark eyes gleamed in the sudden light, and two enormous pincers snapped menacingly as the creature raced into the corridor.
Harry let out a long, piercing scream.
But the scream made no sound.
No one heard him.
Riddle raised his wand again, but he was too late.
The enormous creature bowled him over as it tore down the corridor, its legs clattering against the stone floor before it disappeared into the darkness.
Riddle scrambled back to his feet and pointed his wand after it.
Before he could cast another spell, however, Rubeus threw himself at him.
The huge boy seized Riddle's wand and wrestled him to the ground.
"NOOOOOOO!"
The memory suddenly whirled around Harry.
The corridor stretched and twisted, the walls dissolving into darkness as though someone had torn the entire scene apart.
Harry felt himself falling.
Crash.
Harry sat bolt upright, gasping for air as though he had just broken through the surface of icy water. The velvet curtains around his bed were drawn shut, enclosing him in the warm, familiar red gloom of the Gryffindor dormitory.
For several seconds, he simply sat there, trying to steady his breathing.
On the quilt before him lay the little black Diary.
Its creamy pages were blank and perfectly still, looking completely harmless and innocent.
*****************************
Ethan watched as Harry was ejected from the memory.
He had already accomplished what he wanted. The pieces needed for the final confrontation in the Chamber were almost all in place.
Now there was only one major step left: another attack; one more should be enough to put enough pressure on the school to get Dumbledore out of Hogwarts.
Once the old wizard was gone, Ethan would only need to lure Harry into the Chamber.
Then everything would be ready.
It was all coming together nicely.
Ethan could only hope that nothing unexpected happened. He couldn't afford any mistakes now, not when everything he had worked towards was finally beginning to fall into place.
He also didn't know how much longer he could remain inside the Diary. It was starting to feel suffocating, as though the cramped little space was slowly closing in around him, and he had no idea how much longer he could endure it.
The next step was to make Ginny get the diary back.
He had already tested the bond between them. It was strong enough for him to reach her thoughts and subtly guide her actions, even from a distance.
However, influence was not the same as complete control.
If Ethan wanted to take full control of Ginny and use her to carry out another attack, he would need to be in her presence. Only then could he strengthen their connection enough to control her completely.
*********************************
The next morning in the Great Hall, Harry barely touched his porridge.
Ron was busily heaping sausages onto his plate, while Hermione was propping A Compendium of Common Curses and their counter-actions against a pitcher of pumpkin juice, scanning lines between bites of buttered toast.
"You look terrible, Harry," Hermione said bluntly, peering over the top of her book. "Did you stay up late? Did you find anything in the diary?"
Harry hesitated, glancing around the table. Several second-year Gryffindors were seated a cautious distance away, keeping their voices low.
"Not here," Harry muttered under his breath. "Come on."
He led them out of the Great Hall and up toward an empty corner of the library, tucking themselves into a drafty alcove between the aisles of ancient magical theory.
"Well?" Ron asked, folding his arms. "Did the Revealer work or not?"
"It wasn't a spell," Harry said quietly, leaning in so close his glasses nearly brushed Ron's nose. "The diary answered me. Its name was Tom Riddle. He was a prefect fifty years ago... and he showed me what happened."
Hermione's eyes went wide. "He showed you? How?
"I don't know what it was," Harry said, running a hand through his untidy hair. "I fell inside the pages. I saw the Headmaster back then, Professor Dippet. And I saw Riddle catch the person who had opened the Chamber."
"Who was it?" Ron asked eagerly. "Was it a Slytherin? Malfoy's grandfather?"
Harry swallowed hard, his throat dry.
"It was Hagrid."
**************************************************