Author’s Note: Hey guys! Sorry it’s taken me so long to write back, but with two other stories and a bunch of homework every night, it’s tough. Well the viewers have spoken and the title of the story has officially been changed to “Diary of a Missing Girl.” I got nine votes on my poll saying I should change the title and two saying they didn’t care. No one voted no. So I’m going with the people and the title is different. Just remember that the next time your story alert sends you an email for “Diary of a Missing Girl” and not “Missing Character from Harry Potter.”

All right, the first half of this chapter is devoted to the diary and then we go into the Forbidden Forest to meet Aragog. The next chapter will be the conclusion of Chamber of Secrets, then we’ll move on to Prisoner of Azkaban. I’m so ready to move on to the third book. Happy reading!

03-15-03

Dear Diary,

Significant progress has been made in the hunt for the Heir of Slytherin. But it has come with a price. Hermione’s been petrified. You should have seen her. She was lying stiff and rigid as a board in the hospital wing, staring blankly at something ahead of her. Her hand was stretched out as though she’d been holding something, which she had, but I’ll get to that later. Right now, I can’t believe this has happened to her. We’ve worked so hard to protect her and the rest of the Muggleborns, but it seems as though every time we make an ounce of progress, something has to happen to ruin our moment of triumph and make things worse on all of us.

It gets even worse than that. Hagrid has been arrested on suspicion of being the Heir of Slytherin. He can’t be. He was in Gryffindor when he was at school here and though we don’t know what he was expelled for, it can’t be for opening the Chamber of Secrets. I don’t want to speak ill of Hagrid, but he doesn’t have the brains or the skill to do anything like this. This is meant to defend him and I mean it all in the nicest possible way. Before I give you the details of all of this, I have to tell you about the diary. It’s our only clue to the identity of the real Heir of Slytherin.

Hermione spent several weeks in the hospital wing getting cured for the cat incident. There were rumors that she’d been attacked, but with Cedric’s help, I was able to quash most of these rumors. Unfortunately, there were some people, Parvati and Lavender for instance, that kept trying to tell me why she wasn’t back in classes.

“What aren’t you telling us, Leslie?” asked Lavender, about a week after the start of term.

“Nothing Lavender, now let it drop,” I said testily.

“You’re hiding something all right, now spill it,” said Parvati eagerly.

“Why can’t both of you grow up and realize that there are some things I like to keep to myself?” I asked them both, my temper growing. “I don’t have to share everything with either of you.”

“You have to share it with that Cedric boy though,” said Lavender slyly.

“My friendship with Cedric is none of your business.”

“What is going on between you two?” asked Parvati. “You’re together so much.”

“It’s none of your business,” I repeated.

“But Leslie,” began Lavender.

“Oh for God’s sake,” I snapped. “Can’t you two find something interesting in your own lives to gossip about and stop meddling in everyone else’s? When are you going to learn that the world does not revolve around either of you?”

They both looked slightly hurt at this, but it was enough that they stopped asking me annoying questions. I just pulled the curtains on my bed around, blocking myself from view and settled back in bed with a book. I couldn’t wait until Hermione got out of the hospital wing. Then all this nonsense about her being petrified would stop. Then more irritating questions would start about where she’d been all these weeks. I sighed. It was going to take a great deal of patience to get through this. Fortunately, they didn’t bother me for the rest of the week.

It was a blessing when Hermione did return to classes, a blessing for me that is. Everyone stopped asking me why she’d been missing lessons and started asking her instead. She hated having to make up excuses for it, but she did the best she could without revealing that we were brewing a potion in secret over the course of the previous term. Besides, she really doesn’t want it brooded about that the best student in our year, probably in the entire school, made a mistake on a potion. If there’s one thing Hermione is afraid of, it’s losing her status as the teacher’s favorite student. Well, all the teachers except Snape. It’s obvious Malfoy is his favorite.

But get this. The night before Hermione was released from the hospital wing, Harry, Ron and I had just delivered her homework to her and while we were on the way back up to the common room, we passed by a flooded corridor. Out of curiosity, we followed the current of water and saw that, no surprise, it was coming from Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. We could hear her crying from inside.

“What’s the matter with her now?” I asked.

“Shall we go in and find out?” asked Ron. We didn’t see any reason not to, so Harry opened the door and the three of us went inside.

The place was a mess. All the faucets had been turned on, all the water was running from every available water source, it was disgusting. I had to lift the hem of my robes up a little bit and tiptoe through the stuff, and even then it wasn’t enough to keep my feet from getting wet.

“I’m going to have to thoroughly wash my feet later,” I said to myself, trying my hardest to get rid of the disgusted look on my face as we approached Myrtle.

“Come to throw something else at me?” asked Myrtle. She was sitting up by one of the windows and she was still hiccupping.

“Why would I throw something at you?” asked Harry.

“Don’t ask me,” said Myrtle. “Here I am minding my own business and someone decides it’s funny to throw a book at me.”

“But it can’t hurt you if someone throws a book at you, I mean, it’ll just go right through you,” said Ron.

I slapped my hand against my face and tried to suppress a groan. Even he should’ve known that was the wrong thing to say. Myrtle swooped down in front of him and said, “sure, let’s all throw books at Myrtle because she can’t feel it. Ten points if it goes through her stomach.” She threw her arm forward as if she was about to punch him and it went through his stomach. “Fifty points if it goes through her head,” and she did the same thing except her arm went through his head.

“But why would someone throw something at you anyway?” asked Harry.

“I don’t know, 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 began wailing again and drifted away. Harry walked over a few feet and picked up a little black book off the floor.

“It’s a diary,” he said.

“Why would someone want to throw away their personal diary?” I asked. I know I could never throw you away little diary. I continued with, “the writing in it would be ruined now, but a simple spell would make it legible again. Does this person really think no one will find it and uncover all their secrets?”

“No chance of that last part, Leslie,” said Harry, who was now flipping through the journal. Ron and I looked over at it and saw that there was nothing written in it.

“It’s blank!” said Ron. “What good is that if it’s bloody blank?”

“You do have a way with words, don’t you Ron,” I said sarcastically.

“Look at this,” said Harry. “There’s a name on the back: ‘Tom Marvolo Riddle.’”

“Tom Marvolo Riddle?” asked Ron. “I know that name.”

“What?” Harry and I asked together incredulously.

“That night I had detention with Filch,” continued Ron. “I burped up slugs over this one trophy, Tom Riddle’s trophy. Filch made me wipe it clean about fifty times before he was satisfied.”

“What did he win an award for?” I asked.

“It didn’t say, all I remember is that it was fifty years ago,” said Ron.

“Fifty years ago?” Harry and I asked together.

“Yeah, what’s the big deal about that?” Harry and I looked at him like he was insane.

“You did not just say that,” I said to him.

“What do you mean?” asked Ron, but Harry was already starting back down the corridor towards the hospital wing. Ron and I followed after him, Ron grumbling about both of us being mental and we went back in to see Hermione.

“What are you three doing back here?” asked Hermione. She took a quick glance back toward Madam Pomfrey’s office. She wouldn’t approve of us being here twice in one day.

“Look at this,” said Harry, handing the diary to her. “We found this in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. Ron says the guy who owned it, Tom Riddle, won an award for services to the school and that it was fifty years ago.”

Hermione’s face took on the same incredulous look that Harry’s and mine did and she said excitedly, “oh, there must be some valuable information in here. We just have to figure out how to reveal it.”

“Valuable information about what?” asked Ron. “What are you three on about?”

“Is he serious?” asked Hermione, looking at me.

“Unfortunately, he’s dead serious,” I told her. “I would’ve slapped him upside the head, but I thought I’d let you have that pleasure after you heard what an idiot he’s being.”

“Thank you, Leslie,” said Hermione and without further ado, she reached up and smacked Ron across the back of the head.

“Ow!” he said, rubbing his head where she’d hit him. “What’d you do that for?”

“Like Leslie said, you’re being an idiot,” said Hermione. “Don’t you see what this means?”

“What?”

“This diary is fifty years old. Tom Riddle won an award for services to the school fifty years ago. The Chamber of Secrets was opened fifty years ago.” Ron still looked perplexed. “Oh Ron, wake up! Riddle probably got his award for finding the Heir of Slytherin and closing the chamber. This diary probably contains everything, where the chamber is, what’s in it and how to open it. The Heir of Slytherin wouldn’t want that lying around.”

“Just one problem, Hermione,” said Ron. “There’s nothing written in this diary.”

“Keep it safe until I get back to the common room,” said Hermione, handing it back to Harry. “Once I get out of here, I’ll start doing a few tests to see if I can reveal its secrets. It might be invisible ink or I can use my revealer.”

But she didn’t find anything. We tried for a week after that to see if we could figure out how to reveal what sort of information might be stored in it, but nothing worked. Ron thought we were all crazy, but we kept trying.

“You’re all wasting your time,” he said as we walked down to breakfast one morning. “Riddle just got a diary for Christmas and he never bothered to write it not even once. Either that or the Heir of Slytherin found it and erased all the information hidden inside it if there ever was information.”

“I don’t think so,” I said. “Why would they flush it down a toilet if there’s nothing useful inside it?”

“What do you mean, Leslie?” asked Ron.

“Usually when people do that, they aren’t trying to upset the ghost living in that bathroom,” I said, which is what Ron believed was the case. “Usually they’re trying to get rid of something. Whoever it was obviously thought the diary was dangerous to them and felt the need to get rid of it. Not very effective though. If they wanted to properly dispose of it, they should’ve burnt it or something.”

“So why do you think they chose to flush it down a toilet instead?” asked Hermione.

“I don’t know,” I said as we turned into the Great Hall. “Maybe they didn’t have much time to get rid of it. Or maybe…what on God’s green Earth!”

The Great Hall was decorated with hundreds of pink and red hearts, falling from the enchanted ceiling, hanging from the rafters, even the candles had been turned pink. The rest of the student body and most of the teachers were looking at the scene with disgust.

“Who did all this?” asked Harry.

“Give you three guesses,” said Ron, pointing his thumb at the teacher’s table. Gilderoy Lockhart was dressed in robes to match the occasion and looking as though this was the best idea he’d ever come up with. I was ready to knock his head off just for thinking of it.

“What on Earth is this?” said a voice from behind me. It was Cedric.

“Lockhart decided we needed to celebrate Valentine’s Day,” I told him. We stood in the doorway to chat for a moment, while the others went off to the Gryffindor table.

“I knew he was an idiot, but I didn’t think he was this much of an idiot,” said Cedric. “You can’t celebrate Valentine’s Day when those poor people in the hospital wing are lying still and cold. It just isn’t proper.”

“Tell him that,” I said nodding at Lockhart.

“While we’re here though,” said Cedric. “I did get you this.” And he handed me an envelope with a card inside. I dug through my bag and handed him one as well. Normally, I don’t celebrate something like Valentine’s Day, but Cedric is the only one I’m willing to share it with. We said goodbye, each making one more criticizing comment about Lockhart and headed for our respective tables.

Lockhart stood up, waved his hands high for silence and said, “Happy Valentine’s Day! And may I thank the forty-six people who have so far sent me cards!”

I nearly choked on my glass of water for that. Who on Earth would send him one card, let alone forty-bloody-six? He then introduced his “card-carrying cupids,” which turned out to be little dwarves with wings and harps. They were the ugliest things I have ever seen in my life. He announced they would be going around the school all day long delivering valentines. None of the teachers looked too pleased with that, especially Professor McGonagall.

And I was right. Every time a dwarf came into her class that day, she turned them into something else and shooed them out, but the still managed to deliver valentines to people. I got about a dozen from boys in the third year and above from all houses, asking me to be their valentine and telling me repeatedly how beautiful I was and how intelligent and witty and they’d love it if I would meet with them over dinner one night. I burnt them all after reading them. They were all from people who just wanted to see if they could get me to fall in love with them and see if I could give them some of my money. The only one I kept was the one from Cedric. It had a very simple message:

Hoping you’re doing all right. Remember that any time you want to talk, I’m right here. Cedric

It was so sweet. But then I wouldn’t expect anything less from Cedric.

One thing about that day was the day that Harry made a breakthrough with the diary. One of the dwarves delivered a musical valentine, which we all guessed was from Ginny (and she had to endure Malfoy making a comment about it too, ugh!) which caused a commotion in the hallway. Malfoy picked up the diary thinking it was Harry’s own diary, but Harry used a disarming charm to get it out of his hands. Then we had to pick all of his things up because the dwarf had ripped his bag trying to get to him. There was ink all over his books and his notes and everything, but Tom Riddle’s diary wasn’t even touched. I remember seeing splatter all over it, but when I got it for Harry, there wasn’t even a small blot on it. Harry noticed it too.

“What happened to this?” asked Harry. “Malfoy didn’t clean it off for us, did he?”

“Him, are you kidding?” I asked. “The day he’ll do something like that will be the day his father gives up trying to outdo my uncle in the way of money and power. No, it must’ve absorbed all the ink somehow.”

We went into class still discussing this. Hermione thought it might be something to check on, but Ron still thought we were nuts. He wasn’t paying much attention anyway. His wand was acting funny again. He’s really going to have to get another one, but he doesn’t want to, because it’ll just remind his mother of the incident with the Whomping Willow and he’ll get another Howler back. I swear though, if he doesn’t get one himself, I’ll drag him to Diagon Alley and buy him one myself. He isn’t going to be able to take his exams with that thing.

That night, Ron, Hermione and I were all in the common room, Hermione and I trying to teach Ron how to do the spells we’d learned in Charms that day, but with his wand in the condition it was in, it was impossible. Harry had gone up to the boys dormitory awhile before and we all knew he was looking at the diary again. About an hour after he’d gone upstairs to examine it, he came dashing downstairs again, all sweaty and panting and shaking. But what stood out to me was the look of total and complete shock on his face. It frightened me to see him in this state.

“Harry, what’s the matter?” I asked him.

“It was Hagrid,” he stuttered out. “Hagrid opened the Chamber of Secrets fifty years ago.”

“What?” the three of us asked together.

Harry explained how he’d figured out how to work the diary and that Tom Riddle had preserved part of his memory in the diary and that all you had to do was write in it and he’d write back. He showed Harry his memories. Apparently, the night the Muggleborn girl died fifty years ago, he went down to the dungeons and found Hagrid trying to smuggle a monster out of the castle. Hagrid kept protesting his innocence, but it didn’t make any difference. The monster got away and he was expelled from Hogwarts. Dumbledore gave him the position of gamekeeper though, so he was able to make a living for himself and have a home.

“It can’t be Hagrid, it just can’t be,” said Hermione.

“We don’t even know this Tom Riddle, he sounds like a dirty, rotten snitch to me,” said Ron.

“The monster had killed somebody, Ron,” said Harry. “What would any of us have done?”

“It’d have to depend more on the circumstances,” I said. “If it was Malfoy, I’d turn him in quick as a wink, but Hagrid’s our friend. We can’t just go tell Professor Dumbledore that he’s been setting a monster loose in the castle. It’s a real moral dilemma, isn’t it?”

“Look, Hagrid’s our friend,” said Hermione. “Why don’t we just go and ask him about it?”

“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?”

“I say we don’t say anything,” I said. “Only if an emergency comes up.”

“What sort of emergency?” asked Harry.

“Do you really need to ask that question?” I asked him and he knew I meant if there was another attack. We’d have to go ask Hagrid some questions then, but it didn’t look as though there would be another attack. It’d been nearly four months since the double attack on Justin and Nick, so we were beginning to become hopeful that we’d never have to say anything to Hagrid, for which we were also grateful. We really didn’t want to have to speak to him about something that clearly caused him so much pain to think about.

The days passed and Harry didn’t hear that voice again, which gave me some hope. I wanted to kiss Oliver Wood because he was keeping Harry in Quidditch practices so much, he didn’t have time to go looking for the voice. He was so busy training for his match against Hufflepuff that he barely had time to do his homework.

One night, he came in from a particularly long practice session to find Neville pacing back and forth across the common room. He’d been driving most of us nuts for the past half hour, but he wouldn’t tell us what was wrong.

“Harry, I don’t know who did it, but you’d better come quick,” he said.

The two of them dashed upstairs, Ron, Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas close behind them. Hermione and I gazed after them, wondering what was going on. We didn’t have long to wait. Harry and Ron came back downstairs to speak to us a few minutes later.

“Tom Riddle’s diary is gone,” said Harry.

“What?” Hermione and I asked together.

“Someone went through my trunk,” said Harry. “Pages were torn out of my books, the pockets were hanging out of my robes, someone was looking for something and they found it. They took Riddle’s diary.”

“It had to have been a Gryffindor, nobody else knows our password,” said Hermione. “Nobody else knows our password, unless it wasn’t a student.”

“Who could’ve taken it though? How did the thief know it was and that Harry had it?” asked Ron.

“The Heir of Slytherin must’ve seen it,” I said. “On Valentine’s Day, remember when your bag split, Harry? There was a whole group of people in that corridor that all saw Malfoy holding up the diary. The Heir of Slytherin must have been in the crowd and must have recognized it. They broke in here and stole it or enchanted a Gryffindor student to do it for them.”

“So where does that leave us?” asked Hermione.

“It means that the Heir of Slytherin is going to strike again,” said Harry. “He’ll probably do it sometime soon, out of fear. And most likely, he isn’t going to be concerned with any of the Muggleborns this time.”

“You don’t mean he’ll come after us?” I asked him. He nodded.

Needless to say, I didn’t get any sleep that night. The next day was a Saturday and it was with a very apprehensive state of mind that I went down to the Great Hall for breakfast. I didn’t eat much either. Cedric was there and praise the Lord, he noticed I wasn’t hungry. I looked directly at him, slightly nodded my head, then looked over to the Great Hall doors and then let my eyes drift up to the ceiling before returning to him. He got the message and nodded his head back at me.

I excused myself from the table and went upstairs to our little meeting place. Once I got to the old classroom, I checked to make sure Peeves wasn’t inside, then shut the door and went over to wait by the window. A few minutes later, I heard the door open and close behind me and Cedric came over to stand next to me.

“What’s wrong, Leslie?” he asked, putting a concerned hand on my shoulder. I told him what had transpired the previous day and the look on his face when I finished was more than shocked. “The Heir of Slytherin isn’t going to attack you, is he?”

“I think it’s more likely that he’ll go after Harry and Hermione, since he’s the one that made the discovery and she’s Muggleborn,” I said. “Ron and I are Purebloods, so hopefully we’re safe, but I’m still scared. What if something happens to one of my friends? What if I can’t find the Heir of Slytherin and stop him? That’s what really scares me, Cedric. Every day, every classmate I pass in the hall, I could be walking past the Heir, I could be seeing him, talking with him, and I don’t know it. He’s walking freely among us and the fact that he might be keeping tabs on us is terrifying. I don’t know what to do.”

Cedric pulled me into a bone-crushing hug and said, “don’t worry, Leslie. I won’t let anything happen to you, I promise.”

“Worry about yourself, not about me,” I told him. “What if they hurt you to make me stop trying to fix this mess? I couldn’t bear that.”

“Nothing’s going to happen to me or to you,” he said. “I won’t let anything happen.”

“I don’t really see what you can do,” I said, trying to hold back my tears of fear.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen or when,” said Cedric, making me look at him. “But I swear to you, I won’t let you or your friends get hurt. We’ll find this guy, Leslie, and when we do, you and I will celebrate with Harry, Ron, Hermione and all the rest of the school and we won’t ever think of this again. Don’t think on it anymore now. Put it out of your mind and get some rest.”

“Thank you, Cedric,” I said, smiling gratefully. “You always know what to say to cheer me up.”

“It’s my job to know how to cheer you up,” he said, running a finger down my cheek. “Now go upstairs and get some sleep. It doesn’t look like you got any last night.” I did as she asked and went back upstairs to the Gryffindor dormitory, sleeping much better than I had the previous night.

The next day, yesterday was the Quidditch match, Gryffindor vs. Hufflepuff. We all went down to the Great Hall for breakfast, Harry confident that they were going to win. Hermione had woken up early and gone to the library, so I ate breakfast with the guys and we went out onto the Quidditch pitch for the match. But just as the players were warming up, Professor McGonagall’s voice rang out loud and clear around the pitch.

“This match has been cancelled,” she said. “All students are to return to their house common rooms at once. Their Heads of Houses will be there shortly.”

“What’s going on?” I asked, looking down at the field where the players were all landing. Oliver Wood was trying to talk Professor McGonagall into letting them play, but she was ignoring him. Instead she was speaking to Harry. A horrible thought occurred to me.

“There hasn’t been another attack, has there?” I asked. “She isn’t blaming Harry for it, is she?”

“Let’s go down and find out,” said Ron. We dashed down the stairs, knocking aside anyone who got in our way. Well, Ron did most of that, I just followed along in his wake. Then to my surprise, Professor McGonagall gestured at us to come over and join them when we got within seeing distance of her and Harry. I looked at Ron in confusion and we walked over to them.

“Ah Mr. Weasley, Miss Angkatell,” she said. “Mr. Potter and I were just coming to look for you. There’s something the three of you have to see.”

“What is it, Professor?” I asked as we followed her back up to the castle.

“You’ll see when we get there,” she said.

I caught Cedric’s eye as we left the grounds. He looked panicked, both because he didn’t know what could possibly be serious enough to cancel a Quidditch match and because he wasn’t sure if I was in trouble or not. I sent him a look that said, “I’ll tell you later,” and followed Professor McGonagall back inside the school.

She led us up to the hospital wing and said, “I warn you, this may be a wee bit of a shock.”

Lying on the nearest bed was a Ravenclaw prefect and on the next was Hermione, both of them still as statues and stone cold. I couldn’t suppress the gasp that arose in my throat. I brought my hand to my mouth and tried to stem the flow of tears already beginning.

“No,” I kept thinking to myself. “No, no, no, this can’t be happening. Why was she attacked? What did she do to deserve this? This is my fault. I should’ve kept an eye on her. I should’ve gone to the library with her, I should’ve made her come to the match with us.”

“They were found near the library, along with this,” said Professor McGonagall, and she held up a small hand mirror. “Does it mean anything to the three of you?”

“No,” we all whispered, trying to come to terms with this shocking truth. We went back to Gryffindor Tower where Professor McGonagall announced that all students were to be escorted to each lesson by a teacher, all evening activities were cancelled until further notice and that we had to be back in the common room by 6:00 every evening. There was general murmuring after she’d left and the gossip mill started again. Who was the Heir of Slytherin? Who would be attacked next? What would be revealed when all the petrified people were revived?

Harry gestured to Ron and I to huddle over in a corner and whispered to us, “we’ve got to talk to Hagrid. I can’t believe it’s him, but if he did set the monster loose last time, he’ll know how to get inside the Chamber of Secrets and that’s a start.”

“But you heard McGonagall,” said Ron. “We’re not allowed to leave the tower except for class.”

“I think it’s time to get my dad’s old cloak out again,” said Harry.

“Will we all fit under yours or should I use mine?” I asked. I’d hardly gotten a chance to use my new cloak since Uncle Jerry sent it to me over Christmas. I wish I’d gotten to keep my father’s old cloak, but there was no point in using it now. Uncle Jerry wrote me when he sent me the new one saying that all the magic had gone from it and it was nothing more than a bundle of silvery fabric. But he’s held on to it for the memories.

“We should fit under mine,” said Harry. “We’ll go tonight.”

Harry went upstairs and got the cloak out of his trunk, hiding it in the folds of his robes so that no one would see it. We sat by the fire until everyone else went to bed and tried to formulate new theories about who the Heir of Slytherin might be, but nobody whose name wasn’t Draco Malfoy came to mind. Finally, the last person went to bed and we were able to duck under the cloak and make our way through the castle.

It was a very slow going. The teachers and prefects and Head Boy and Girl were patrolling the halls, looking for anyone out trying to make some mischief. If they thought they were going to catch the Heir of Slytherin or the monster, they were mistaken. They must’ve known that the Heir would be able to use complex spells to sneak past them, or just take refuge in the chamber. Besides, if the monster is out, the Heir wouldn’t have to get his hands dirty.

It was such a relief to make it out of the castle and onto the grounds. We were able to walk much more quickly across the grounds to Hagrid’s hut. Harry knocked on the door and Hagrid flung it open, pointing a crossbow directly at us. He relaxed though when we took the cloak off and he saw that it was us.

“What’s that for?” asked Harry.

“Nothing, I was just expectin’…doesn’t matter,” said Hagrid. “Come on, I was just makin’ a pot of tea.”

“Hagrid, are you okay?” asked Harry, when he saw Hagrid spill the tea everywhere, then nearly drop the cup when he tried to hand it to me.

“Fine,” replied Hagrid, but he wasn’t fine.

“Did you hear about Hermione?” asked Harry.

“Oh I heard about that all right.”

“Look, we have to ask you something,” said Harry. He glanced at Ron and I for reassurance and then asked the vital question. “Do you know who’s opened the Chamber of Secrets?”

Hagrid sighed and said, “what you have to understand about that is…” but there was another knock at the door. Hagrid whispered to us, “back under the cloak. Don’t say a word.” We ducked into a corner and Harry draped the cloak over the three of us. Hagrid opened the door but relaxed when he saw Professor Dumbledore at the door, but there was another man with him.

“That’s Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic!” I whispered to Harry and Ron.

“Bad business, Hagrid, very bad business,” said Fudge. “Four attacks on Muggleborns, things have gone far enough. The Ministry’s got to act.” Hagrid began protesting his innocence and thankfully Dumbledore stepped in.

“I want it understood, Cornelius, that Hagrid has my full confidence.”

“Albus, look, Hagrid’s record is against him. I’ve got to take him.”

“Take me?” asked Hagrid fearfully. “Take me where? Not Azkaban prison?”

“No,” whispered Ron. I shared his sentiment. The last place a person wants to go is Azkaban prison. The place is guarded by more than just water on all sides. The guards of Azkaban, the dementors, suck all the happiness out of a place and force you to relive all the worst memories of your life. You don’t even need walls to keep the prisoners in, they’re trapped inside their own heads. Uncle Jerry had to go there once on an inspection, when he was still young. This was before my parents died. When he got back, he stayed locked in his room for three days, not moving or making a sound. Mom and Dad had to stay with him at all times until he managed to recover from the incident.

There was another rap at Hagrid’s door and a very bored drawl said, “already here, Fudge. Good.” It was Lucius Malfoy.

“What’re you doing here?” asked Hagrid testily. “Get outta my house!”

But it turns out that Malfoy was there to see Fudge, with an order of suspension for Dumbledore.

“That can’t be right,” I whispered to Harry. “Dumbledore’s the only thing keeping the rest of the student population safe. Surely the governors know that or surely my uncle would’ve stepped in.”

“You can’t take Dumbledore away!” said Hagrid furiously. “Take him away and the Muggleborns won’t stand a chance. You mark my words, there’ll be killings next!”

“You really think so?” asked Malfoy nonchalantly, as if the idea had crossed his mind, but he didn’t seem perturbed by it, which of course he wasn’t.

“Calm yourself, Hagrid,” said Dumbledore. “If the governors desire my removal, I shall of course step aside. However, you will find that help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it.” His eyes flickered to where the three of us were standing, then he stepped outside with Malfoy.

“If anybody were looking for some stuff, all they’d have to do would be to follow the spiders,” said Hagrid. “That’s all I have to say. And someone’ll need to feed Fang while I’m away.”

Once they were gone, the three of us tugged the cloak off and sank down into chairs by the fire, trying to comprehend the situation.

“Hagrid’s right,” said Ron. “With Dumbledore gone, there’ll be an attack a day.”

“How can this have happened?” I asked. “How can all the governors have signed that order of suspension? Lucius Malfoy must have coerced them somehow. And how can my uncle have let it happen?”

“What would your uncle have been able to do?” asked Harry perplexed.

“My uncle keeps himself well informed of what happens in this school,” I replied to him. “He has an agreement set up with the governors, so that if anything happens and they make a decision on something, he has to know about it. He was going to be a governor himself, but Malfoy got there first. And with how much influence Uncle Jerry has, he’s able to override any decision he wants if he doesn’t feel it’s beneficial to the school.”

“You’re right, then,” said Harry. “How can he have let this happen?”

“Unless it wasn’t brought to his attention,” I realized. “It’s all Malfoy’s doing. He’s always hated the way Dumbledore runs the school and wants nothing more than to see him lose his position. He would be the one to force the other governors to sign that order, then he made sure he was the one to deliver it so that there was no question of something going wrong. And he didn’t tell my uncle, and he made sure no one else did, because he knew Uncle Jerry would never agree to that.”

“They’re not on good terms, are they?” asked Ron. “Lucius Malfoy and your uncle?”

“No, they never have been,” I said. “Uncle Jerry disagrees with just about every word that comes out of Lucius’ mouth, especially his Pureblood obsession. Uncle Jerry also knows about Malfoy’s intense dislike of Dumbledore. I’d write to him after we get back to the tower, but I don’t want to sneak out and to go to the owlery and get Ibbett, and by tomorrow morning he’ll know anyway.”

But Harry wasn’t listening anymore. He was looking at something over by the window. I followed his gaze and saw a line of spiders trickling through a piece of broken glass.

“Come on,” said Harry, leaving the cloak on the table and heading out the door.

“What?” Ron croaked out.

“You heard what Hagrid said. Follow the spiders.”

“They’re heading into the Forbidden Forest,” said Ron. He was barely talking properly at this point and I can’t say I blamed him. I didn’t want to go into the forest either, particularly not for the reason we had. I remembered the stories Harry, Hermione and Neville had told me when they came out of the forest last year after that detention and they still make shivers run down my spine. I was praying to God that I never had to set foot in that place.

Harry and I lighted our wand tips, Ron mumbling why he couldn’t light his, and we set off into the woods. As we got further into the dark forest, the trees got thicker, the spiders accumulated and I got very frightened very quickly. Oh all right, I was more than frightened. I was petrified. It was getting harder to walk because all the trees kept closing in around us and we kept losing the trail of spiders. Finally, they darted off the path, which made Harry stiffen. He’d told me after his detention that Hagrid had said never to stray from the path. He took a resolute step forward and followed the spiders, but Ron and I were reluctant to follow him.

We kept going and I eventually grabbed hold of Harry’s arm, just because I needed something to hold onto for comfort. He didn’t seem to mind though, which I appreciated. Finally, we reached a large hollow and for a moment, there was silence. This had to be the place. The smaller spiders were all over the ground. Then we heard a voice.

“Who is it? Hagrid, is that you?”

“We’re friends of Hagrid,” said Harry.

We heard the sounds of something large moving towards us and in the middle of the hollow appeared an enormous spider. Ron and I each took a few steps backwards, but Harry stood his ground.

“You’re Aragog, aren’t you?” asked Harry and I remembered the name from when he told us about when he figured out how to work the diary.

“Yes,” said the spider. “Hagrid has never sent men into our hollow before.”

“He’s in trouble,” explained Harry quickly. “Up at the school, they think he’s the one behind all these attacks. They think he opened the Chamber of Secrets like before.”

“That’s a lie,” said Aragog angrily. “Hagrid never opened the Chamber of Secrets.”

“So then, you’re not the monster?”

“No, the monster was born in the castle. I came to Hagrid from a distant land in the pocket of a traveler.”

“But then what did kill that girl fifty years ago?” asked Harry.

“We do not speak of it,” said Aragog. “It is an ancient creature that we spiders fear above all others. The girl was discovered in a bathroom. I never saw any part of the castle but the box in which Hagrid kept me. When I was accused, Hagrid brought me here.”

It was only then that Harry and I realized how much the spiders had closed in around us. Ron had been staring speechless at them all for several minutes. I don’t think he heard one single word of that conversation. But spiders of every shape and size were beginning to swoop down around us and they were all thinking the same thing: it’s dinner time.

We tried to make a run for it, but the spiders kept closing in around us, Aragog mentioning that he couldn’t deny his children fresh meat. I gulped; this was not how I wanted to die. Harry and I cast a couple spells to make them back off, but it didn’t do much good.

“What do we do now?” asked Ron fearfully.

Suddenly, there was a loud roaring noise and a car came speeding down into the hollow and stopped in front of us, its doors flinging open. I heard Ron gasp in relief that his father’s car had come to rescue us, but it didn’t really register as Fang and I jumped in the backseat, while Harry and Ron got upfront.

Ron took the wheel and drove us out of the forest. He had to use the flying gear to get away from all the spiders, but we managed to get back to Hagrid’s hut in one piece. Fang jumped out of the car and into the house, his tail in between his legs. We all went back inside the hut as well, while the car drove itself back into the forest. We sat by the fire to warm up and get our heart rates under control.

“Follow the spiders! Follow the spiders!” said Ron angrily. “If Hagrid ever gets out of Azkaban, I’ll kill him!”

“Not if I kill him first,” I said, just as angrily.

“I mean, what was the point of sending us in there?” asked Ron.

“We learned some information,” said Harry. “Hagrid never opened the Chamber of Secrets. He was innocent.”

“Do you think what Aragog said about that girl is of any use?” I asked. “He said she died in a bathroom.”

“How can that be of any use?” asked Ron. I rolled my eyes at him. He never sees the big picture, let alone how useful small details can be. We didn’t say anything else, we just grabbed the cloak and went back up to Gryffindor Tower.

When I got back to the girl’s dormitory, I was surprised by the sight of an owl perched on the window. Even in the darkness, I recognized it as Cedric’s owl.

“Hello Diana,” I said to the owl, opening the window and stroking her brown feathers. She had a letter in her talons and she stretched them out as if offering it to me. I took it from her, but she didn’t fly off immediately. Apparently, she’d been told to await a response. I quickly opened the letter. It said:

Leslie, are you all right? Hermione’s been attacked and now they’re making us all stay in our dormitories except for class. I can’t protect you nearly as well as I’d hoped I’d be able to. Just please don’t do anything stupid. Write back to me as soon as you get this and at least tell me you’re all right.

I didn’t want to think about how long Diana had been sitting outside waiting for me to come in so she could give this to me and I didn’t want to think about how distraught Cedric must be. I looked over at the clock. It was almost two in the morning. I wrote a response telling him everything that had happened and I sent it back with Diana, wondering if he would still be awake to read it.

About five minutes later, she came back with another letter. This one said:

I thought I told you not to do anything stupid! You could’ve been killed! When are you going to get it into your head that you don’t have to go on all these fool errands with Harry and Ron? I know Hermione is your friend and you’re just trying to help her, but isn’t roaming around the Forbidden Forest at this hour of the night a little extreme? I wish you would’ve come to get me and we could’ve gone together.

As for the other matter, don’t worry. I’m sure your uncle has already been contacted about Dumbledore’s suspension and will get to work on that right away. You may know him better than I do, but we both know he won’t stand for Dumbledore’s suspension.

Let me know if something else happens. And please be more careful!

Cedric

I thought it was sweet that he cared for me so much to send me a response repeatedly telling me not to go looking for trouble. A little overprotective, but sweet. I wrote him a letter back saying that I promised to tell him if something else happened and told him to get some sleep. We both needed it. Diana looked like she wanted to go up to the owlery too and rest. After that, I got you out and wrote this.

I don’t know what to do, little diary. Hermione petrified, Hagrid arrested, Dumbledore suspended, it’s all too much too quickly. Things are happening much more quickly than I anticipated they would. And if we don’t catch the Heir soon, someone will be killed. And my greatest fear is that the Heir will come after us for finding out too much.

Love,

Leslie

Author’s Note: All right, so we have the events of about three chapters crammed into one chapter in a fanfiction story. This one took forever for me to write. As I said above, I’m going to finish up Chamber of Secrets in the next chapter and then it’ll be time for Prisoner of Azkaban. I’m wondering where I should start with that one. I don’t know if I’ll start it at the Leaky Cauldron or at Hogwarts. I’ll think about it. Don’t forget to review and as always, stay tuned!