enchanted • draco malfoy

Year 2: Tom Marvolo Riddle

Felicity's POV

Throughout the week, Malfoy's words were ringing through my head. I didn't have to hate him? Yes, I did. I scoffed and pushed away any thoughts involving him. "Have you spoken to Hermione?" Ron questioned me and Harry on our way to the Common Room. "She should be out of the Hospital Wing in a few days," Harry responded. "Once she stops coughing up furballs," I added, grimacing.

Harry and Ron came to a stop at the top of the stairwell, causing me to bump into them. I huffed in annoyance. "Why did you guys-" I trailed off as my eyes landed on the expanding puddle of water, flowing through the hallway. We all exchanged looks before running through the water to its source. "Yuck!" Ron exclaimed in disgust when we reached a girl's lavatory.

I sighed. "Looks like Moaning Myrtle flooded the bathroom." I stomped through the water and pushed open the door to hear Myrtle... well, moaning. It actually sounded more like dog being strangled while howling. Harry and Ron followed after me, taking in the overflowing sinks and toilets in the room.

When Myrtle caught sight of us, she stopped her torturous noises and sniffled. "Come to throw something else at me?" she asked bitterly. "Why would we throw something at you?" Harry asked, confused. "Why wouldn't we want to throw something at her?" I muttered sarcastically. Ron stifled his laugh and Myrtle glared.

"I don't know," she replied sadly, ignoring my question, "Here I am, minding my own business, and someone thinks it's funny to throw a book at me."

"It would be funny," I mumbled, rolling my eyes, "Besides, it's not like it would hurt if someone threw a book at you; it would go right through you." Harry nudged me with a sharp glare, but not before Myrtle began screaming. "Oh, sure!" she screeched, flying in front of me, "Let's all throw books at Myrtle because she can't feel it!"

I put my hands up in surrender and took a step back. "Ten points if you get it through her stomach-" she demonstrated by shoving an arm through Ron's torso. "-and fifty if you get it through her head!" She waved her hand back and forth through Harry's head.

"Who threw it at you, anyway?" Ron asked, rubbing his stomach with a grimace. "I don't know," Myrtle replied, her tears resurfacing, "I didn't see them. I was just sitting in the U- bend, thinking about death, and it fell through the top of my head." She sobbed and flew off into a toilet dramatically. 

I elbowed Ron and Harry, pointing to a tattered black book on the floor. Harry picked it up, shaking the water off of it, before we all shared a look and headed back to the Common Room.

~*~

Later that night, Harry and I stayed up in the Common Room to try to figure out the book. He flipped through the pages; from the first one, that said 'Diary', to the the very last one, all of which were blank. I turned the book to the back to find a name printed in golden ink. "Tom Marvolo Riddle," Harry read. "That name ring a bell?" he asked, turning to me expectantly. I shrugged and reached into my bag, pulling out my quill and ink cartridge. I dipped the feather into the ink and held it over an empty page in the middle of the book, debating what to write.

My name is Felicity Longbottom.

I handed the quill to Harry, who wrote:

I am Harry Potter.

I don't know what we expected to happen, and I was about to close the book before our writing disappeared. Harry and I exchanged bewildered looks as different handwriting appeared.

Hello, Harry, Felicity. My name is Tom Riddle.

My jaw dropped a little as the cursive words vanished. "Ask if he knows anything about the Chamber of Secrets," Harry urged, shoving the feather into my hand. I nodded and hastily wrote out his request. As we assumed would happen, my question faded into the page. I gripped my quill tightly, awaiting an answer.

Yes.

Can you tell us?

No.

I sighed, setting down the feather, before Harry nudged my arm, eyes glued to new words on the yellow page.

But I can show you. Let me take you back fifty years ago.

The second the words faded, the pages of the leatherbound diary began turning rapidly, until it settled down on a page, marked '13th June.' I picked up the right side of the book and Harry held up the left as the center began glowing gold.

"Harry, I don't think-" were my last words before the glowing light swallowed us up.

I landed with Harry in the middle of an unfamiliar corridor, but I could still tell we were in Hogwarts. I walked down the hallway side-by-side with Harry until we were led to a stairwell. "Excuse me," Harry asked politely to a young man at the top of the stairs, "Could you tell us where we are? Are you Tom Riddle?"

The boy didn't reply, just continued staring at something up another set of stairs. "Hello?" I asked impatiently, waving my hand in front of his face, "Can you hear me?" I turned back to Harry exasperatedly, but he followed who I can only guess to be Tom Riddle's eyes to the top of the next stairwell.

Several men were carrying a body on a stretcher, with a sheet of some sort covering her corpse. Harry looked horrified as they walked past us before an authoritative voice pierced the silence. "Riddle," a man said. I turned to see- "Dumbledore?" Harry asked, stunned.

Tom Riddle walked up the steps to mine and Harry's current headmaster. "It is not wise to be wandering about this late of an hour, Tom," Dumbledore reprimanded the young boy. "Yes, sir," Riddle replied obediently, "I suppose I just had to see for myself if the rumors were true." Dumbledore sighed, "I'm afraid they are, Tom."

Tom looked distressed. "And about the school, too? They wouldn't really close Hogwarts, would they, sir? I don't have a home to go to," he explained, worried. Dumbledore looked sympathetic. "I understand, Tom, but I'm afraid Headmaster Dippet may have no choice."

"But, sir, if it all stopped.... if the person responsible was caught..." Tom trailed off. Dumbledore looked down on him disapprovingly. "Is there something you wish to tell me?" he asked, bushy eyebrows raised. Tom shook his head. "No, sir. Nothing," he replied innocently. "Very well, then," Dumbledore relented, even though it was evident he didn't agree, "Off you go." Tom nodded, eyes on the ground. "Good night, sir."

Harry and I followed Tom down yet another corridor. His stride was determined and his hand gripped his wand fiercely. We descended into the dungeons and came to a stop at a door. Riddle flung the door open loudly, with a spiteful sounding- "Evening, Hagrid."

Harry turned to me. "Hagrid?" he asked, shocked. Hagrid quickly closed a huge chest, standing in front of it protectively. "I'm going to have to turn you in," Tom said, almost regretfully, "I don't think you meant it to kill anyone, but-" "You can't!" Hagrid interrupted, "You don't understand!"

"The dead girl's' parents will be here tomorrow, and the least Hogwarts can do is make sure the thing that killed their daughter is slaughtered," Tom said, motioning to the trunk. "It wasn't him," Hagrid denied, " Aragog never killed no one, never!"

"Monsters don't make good pets, Hagrid," Riddle sighed. Something about his voice sent shivers down my spine. "Now, stand aside." "No!" Hagrid shouted. Tom uttered a spell, causing the lid to fly off of the chest. A humongous spider crawled out, weaving it's way through the room and towards the door. Riddle fired jinx after jinx, but they all missed. "Aragog!" Hagrid shouted, his voice cracking. Tom quickly turned and pointed his wand at Hagrid.

"I can't let you go, Hagrid. They'll have your wand for this. You'll be expelled," he said. Harry reached out for Hagrid, but we were swept back to the Common Room.