Chapter 18

Hello Harriet Potter, My Name is Tom Riddle

“When what you see comes in conflict with what you feel, it is always better to go with your feelings. That is your heart speaking to you, guiding you toward the choice that is right for you.”

General (ret.) Jigme Dorji Wengshuk

Rachel had returned to her bed by the time Harriet woke up the following morning. Rachel didn’t say anything about what had happened, and Harriet decided to follow her lead. Harriet didn’t mind so much. All that day Rachel seemed happier and was smiling more than Harriet had seen her do during the whole school year to that point. Harriet supposed finally getting what was tormenting her off her chest had done the trick, and she had to admit she did feel a little spot of pride that she had been the one Rachel had trusted.

Meanwhile, Hermione was still in the hospital wing. Madame Pomfrey and Miss Momori said that they did not think the effects would be permanent, but it would still take several weeks to treat fully. While Harriet and her friends were relieved that Hermione would be okay, Hermione was distraught at the prospect of missing classes once school resumed.

It was another moment that Harriet found herself appreciative of how strongly both Madame Pomfrey and Miss Momori stuck to their oaths of patient-healer privileges. This meant that even though Hermione had to admit to them that they had made Polyjuice Potion, and had accidentally used a cat hair, they would not tell Professor Dumbledore or any of the other staff about it. In fact, it was a bitter-sweet pill of pride they all swallowed when Miss Momori informed them that the only reason Hermione was able to be cured at all was that the potion had been perfectly brewed. Had the potion been made with any less care Hermione’s condition would probably be permanent.

What Harriet did not like was the bitterness that had welled up in Hermione during the days that followed. While Harriet didn’t blame Hermione for being upset over what happened, she was surprised at how quickly Hermione turned to the conclusion that Kenley must have slipped her the cat hair on purpose. No matter how many times Dora insisted that Danielle did, in fact, have a cat with long black fur, nothing seemed to dissuade Hermione from her newfound conviction.

The second fortunate thing about the Polyjuice potion fiasco, after the fact Hermione’s condition was curable, was how it seemed they had at least gotten away scot-free. While Draco did seem suspicious that something strange had happened that night, he did not seem to have figured out exactly what. Harriet was sure seeing Crabbe and Goyle walk back into the Common Room after he thought they had just left, saying they had just woken up in a closet, was very confusing. How was Draco to reach the conclusion someone had made Polyjuice Potion, one of the most challenging potions to make, just to question him about the Heir of Slytherin and the Chamber of Secrets?

They had also worried that Danielle and Wendy, being smarter than Crabbe and Goyle, might put enough pieces together to expose them. However, Kim and Leslie had carried out their part of the plan flawlessly. Dora explained how the two had sent letters to both girls, telling them to go to the astronomy tower. Apparently, the letter to Wendy had been ‘from’ Malfoy, while the letter to Danielle had been ‘from’ AJ’s brother, Ben. Once both girls were there, Lexi and Lola had merely hit them both with Full-Body Bind jinxes from behind and left them there until Professor Sinistra found them a couple of hours later. Whatever Dora had said about the pair being “good kids,” Harriet had to admit she didn’t want to get on their bad side.

The other good thing about that night was the information about the secret compartment the Malfoys had under their drawing room. Harriet quite eagerly let Ronnie borrow Hedwig to send the letter home to her father, who everyone was sure would love a reason to launch another investigation on the Malfoys’ home. All in all, even if Malfoy wasn’t the Heir of Slytherin, at least they made sure his Christmas wouldn’t be all that jolly.

However, turmoil in Malfoy Manor did little to get them closer to figuring out the identity of the Heir, the location of the Chamber, or what the supposed monster was. Nor did it help Harriet solve her other mini-mystery: the identity of T. M. Riddle and why someone had thrown his fifty-year-old diary, in which he had never written anything but his name, into the Gryffindor Common Room fireplace.

Harriet still hadn’t told any of her friends about finding the diary. Something about it seemed to make her not want to, as though she had to keep it secret and safe, tucked away where no one could see it. It also seemed to creep into her mind at odd times, such as during meals or even in the middle of conversations. Throughout the week, she would sometimes sneak it out of her trunk just to look at it, flipping through the pages hoping words would appear.

Even though she was sure she had never heard the name T. M. Riddle, she couldn’t help but feel as though she should have heard it before. It felt a little like last year when they had been searching for the identity of Nicolas Flamel. The difference was Flamel was a name Harriet was sure she had read before, while this time, Riddle was someone she was sure she had met before. But she knew she couldn’t have. T. M. Riddle had to be old by now if he bought a diary back in nineteen forty-two, and the Dursleys would always make her stay hidden in her cupboard under the stairs whenever they had company.

However, the strangest impulse Harriet would get while holding the diary was the urge to write in it. Once or twice during the week after Christmas, she even found herself taking out her quill and ink. She always stopped herself just before she started. It was as if anytime she would start, a little voice inside her head would tell her no… don’t write in the diary… I don’t need to write in the diary… it’s not my diary… why do I have to write in it?

It was a week before the end of the Christmas Holidays when finally, Harriet couldn’t take it anymore. She waited until everyone in her dorm was asleep, snuck out the diary, her quill and ink from her trunk, and crept down the stairs into the quiet of the common room. She didn’t listen to the little voice telling her no this time; she had to figure out what was going on.

She lit a candle and sat at one of the study tables. She opened her ink bottle, dipped her quill into it, and touched it to the paper. Now that it came to it, she suddenly felt a little silly. What was she hoping to write? She almost felt as though she should say something like “hello,” but that was silly to write in a diary, wasn’t it? Diaries weren’t people; they didn’t think.

Finally, Harriet just wrote the words:

My name is Harriet Potter.

After she wrote the passage, Harriet sat back and looked down. Nothing happened, though why exactly she expected something to happen, Harriet didn’t know. Harriet sighed and rubbed her eyes. After she finished, Harriet looked back down at the diary and jumped so hard she nearly knocked her ink bottle over.

Instead of the words she had written, there was now the words:

Hello Harriet Potter, my name is Tom Riddle.

Harriet stared. How had the words got there? And what happened to the words she’d written before? Harriet squeaked with fright when more words seemed to ooze up through the paper. This time they formed the words:

Don’t be afraid, Harriet Potter, I would just like to know how you came by my diary?

Harriet felt her hand trembling as she lifted it and dipped it into her ink again. She wrote with difficulty:

I found it in the fireplace, someone threw it in there, but your diary didn’t burn up.

As Harriet watched, the words she had written seemed to sink into the paper and vanish. Then, more words returned.

Well, it’s certainly lucky that my diary is stronger than something as trifling as fire. But I always knew there would be those who did not want this diary read, or worse, would want it destroyed.

Harriet bit her lip. She was starting to wonder if she was dreaming. She was talking to someone in a diary; she was either dreaming or had gone crazy. She wrote more:

I wondered how it hadn’t been burnt up. Do you mind if I ask; who are you? And why would someone want your diary destroyed?

Harriet held her breath as she waited for the reply.

Interesting questions, Riddle replied. My name is Tom Marvolo Riddle. I was born in an orphanage in London on 31 December 1926. My mother died just after giving birth to me, and I never knew my father. I bought this diary to store my memories back in 1944 after terrible things happened at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

That’s where I am now, Harriet wrote eagerly. And terrible things are happening now too! They said it happened before, about the Heir of Slytherin and the Chamber of Secrets. Is that what happened when you were here?

Harriet paused and thought. By the sound of it, Riddle had been an orphan just like her. She didn’t bring it up, however. Instead, she wrote:

But if you bought this diary in 1944, why is the year listed as 1942?

There was a bit longer pause this time. Finally, the writing formed again.

I bought it second hand, from a shop on Vauxhall Road. It was the best I could afford. It was something I could hide my memories in, and if done right, it could last forever.

Harriet blinked and pondered this information. Forever was a long time and nothing or no one could live forever, could they? Not even Nicolas Flamel had lived forever.

But why? Harriet asked. Did you know something about the Chamber?

Yes, I did, Riddle replied. I caught the one who was carrying out the attacks. But Professor Dippet, the headmaster at the time, told me I could not tell anyone anything about what had happened. I don’t think he needed to bother. After all, I was an orphan living in a Muggle orphanage. Who could I have told?

Harriet thought hard and nervously wrote more.

I’ve heard the last time the Chamber was open, someone died?

Yes, that’s correct. A Muggleborn girl.

Harriet swallowed at that unpleasant information.

So, if you caught who did it before, do you know who could be opening it now?

I imagine it could very well be the same person. The perpetrator was expelled, but not imprisoned. It’s very likely this person may have found a way back into Hogwarts. It may be someone you know very well.

Who? Harriet wrote back, her hands starting to sweat with nervous excitement.

I can show you if you’d like?

Harriet blinked.

How?

As Harriet watched, she gasped as the pages began to flutter and turn themselves rapidly until they stopped in the middle of June. Harriet was even more astonished when the square that should have been marked the 13th of June had turned into a tiny window or television, Harriet wasn’t sure which. Underneath, more of Riddle’s writing appeared.

Look inside, please.

Harriet took a deep breath, picked up the diary, and put her eye up to the tiny window. Before she could do anything else, Harriet felt as though she had been pitched forward, launched out of her chair, and was freefalling towards the ground. She cried out, but the moment she did, she landed hard on her feet. She looked around. She knew exactly where she was. She was in the Headmaster’s office. There were all the sleeping portraits hanging on the walls, but she didn’t see any of the spindle-legged tables with the delicate silver instruments. Nor was there Fawkes.

Harriet squeaked in surprise when she looked at the desk and saw someone sitting behind it. The man was not Dumbledore. He looked older and much frailer than Dumbledore. He also, it seemed, had lost most of his hair.

“Oh! Oh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to intrude!” Harriet said quickly.

However, the wizard gave no response. Instead, he continued to read a letter by candle-light. Harriet furrowed her brow and stepped closer. Even with how focused the wizard was on the letter, there was no way he could fail to see Harriet approaching.

Harriet’s suspicions that the wizard could not see her were confirmed when the wizard folded the letter and rose, walking straight past her to open the curtains to the window. By the looks of it, it was now sunset, when just a second ago, Harriet had been sitting in the Gryffindor Common room, and it had been almost one in the morning.

It was as the old wizard sat back down that Harriet started putting the pieces together. Riddle had said he had bought the diary to “store his memories.” Was that where she was now; in Riddle’s memory? Was the old man, who Harriet now assumed was the headmaster fifty years ago, T. M. Riddle?

Harriet turned when she heard a knock on the door.

“Enter,” the Headmaster said. He sounded just as old as he looked, though somehow Harriet didn’t think it was just his age. He looked as though he had a world of misery on his shoulders.

The door opened, and Harriet felt her jaw drop open. The boy who walked in was the most handsome boy Harriet had ever seen.

“Ah, Riddle,” the old headmaster said.

Harriet continued to stare at the boy. So this was Tom Riddle. He had jet-black hair, much like hers. His skin was flawless and smooth, and his eyes shone brightly even in the dim light of the Headmaster’s office. He looked as though he was about sixteen in age, and was wearing a Slytherin uniform, with a silver prefect badge pinned to his robe. He was also quite tall and thin, though his shoulders were beginning to get quite broad. In spite of herself, Harriet felt her cheeks get hot and that same butterfly feeling she would get whenever Wood praised her crept into her stomach.

“You wanted to see me, Professor Dippet?” Riddle asked. He looked and sounded nervous.

“Sit down. I’ve just been reading the letter you sent me,” Professor Dippet said.

“Oh,” Riddle replied. He sat as requested. He looked up at Professor Dippet as though he were going to say something more but instead looked down at his hands, fingering a large ring. Harriet didn’t know why, but something about the ring drew her attention. It had a gold band and was set with a large, black stone. There were some marks on the stone, but Harriet couldn’t quite make them out before Professor Dippet spoke up again, distracting her.

“My dear boy,” Professor Dippet said looking sympathetic. “I cannot possibly let you stay at school over the summer. Surely you want to go home for the holidays?”

“No. I’d much rather stay at Hogwarts than go back to that—to that—”

Professor Dippet furrowed his eyebrows, studying Riddle. “You live in a Muggle orphanage during the holidays, I believe?”

Riddle nodded. “Yes sir,” he said. To Harriet’s surprise, Riddle seemed to blush, as though that fact was embarrassing to him.

“You are Muggle-born?” Professor Dippet asked.

Harriet found this an odd question to ask, then she remembered how the same attacks were going on back in Riddle’s time, and so asking if Riddle was a Muggle-born was probably a valid concern.

“Half-blood, sir. Muggle father, witch mother,” Riddle replied.

Professor Dippet sighed and leaned forward on his desk. “And are both your parents—?”

Riddle’s jaw seemed to clench a little, and his lips tightened. Somehow, something about this reaction seemed odd to Harriet. He didn’t look upset, or sad, or even nervous. What was the look on his face? She just couldn’t place it.

“My mother died just after I was born, sir. They told me at the orphanage she lived just long enough to name me—Tom after my father, Marvolo after my grandfather,” Riddle said in a serious tone.

Harriet bit her lip. As she looked down at Riddle, a wave of pity rose up inside her. He seemed so strong about the loss of his family and having to live in an orphanage, although Harriet could tell it troubled him.

Professor Dippet tutted sadly. “The thing is, Tom, special arrangements might have been made for you, but in the current circumstances…”

“You mean all these attacks, sir?” Riddle asked.

“Precisely,” Professor Dippet said. “My dear boy, you must see how foolish it would be for me to allow you to remain in the castle when the term ends. Particularly in light of the recent tragedy… the death of that poor little girl… You will be safer by far at your orphanage. The Ministry of Magic is even now talking about closing the school. We are no nearer locating the—er—source of all this unpleasantness…”

Riddle looked as though all of his worst nightmares had come true at once.

“Sir—if the person was caught—if it all stopped—”

“What do you mean?” Professor Dippet asked looking shocked, and even a little angry. “Riddle, do you mean you know something about these attacks?”

Harriet was surprised to hear a slight tone of accusation in Dippet’s voice.

“No, sir,” Riddle said quickly.

Harriet furrowed her brow, studying Riddle’s face. She couldn’t help but think that Riddle had replied a little too quickly. Dippet meanwhile sank back into his chair, looking like a deflated balloon.

“You may go, Tom…”

Riddle slowly rose and walked with heavy feet from the room. Harriet followed close behind. Riddle looked at once miserable and deep in thought as they made their way down the moving spiral staircase.

It was then that Harriet felt something odd. Although she was certain no one in this memory could see her, she couldn’t avoid the sensation that someone or something was watching her. She looked around, but couldn’t see anyone who could be watching in the narrow, spiralling staircase.

They hit the ground floor, and Riddle paced a few times, running his hands through his hair. In spite of herself, Harriet wished she could just put a hand on his shoulder, give him some comfort.

Suddenly, Riddle turned and started off down the hall towards the entrance hall. Harriet followed, looking around anxiously. For some reason, she still felt like she was being watched.

They headed down the large marble staircase. They reached the bottom, and Harriet was starting to wonder why they hadn’t seen anyone when a voice called from the top of the marble staircase behind them. The sound of the voice made her freeze even though the speaker couldn’t be talking to her. She also couldn’t help but feel there was something familiar about that voice.

“What are you doing, wandering around this late, Tom?”

Harriet turned with Riddle. The wizard who had spoken was standing at the top of the staircase, wearing midnight blue robes and had flowing auburn hair and beard. Harriet furrowed her brow when she also noticed the man was wearing half-moon spectacles. At once, she knew who he was. This was a fifty-year younger Professor Albus Dumbledore, in the days when he was just the Transfiguration teacher.

“I had to see the headmaster, sir,” Riddle replied.

Harriet looked at Riddle again. Again, his entire demeanour seemed different than it had when they were with Professor Dippet or when they had been alone outside Dippet’s office. Harriet watched hard, trying to figure out what it was. If she didn’t know better, Harriet would have thought Riddle looked almost afraid of Dumbledore the way his body had gone rigid and his jaw set.

“Well, hurry off to bed. Best not to roam the corridors these days. Not since…” Dumbledore paused and sighed. “Good night, Tom.”

“Good night, sir,” Riddle replied.

Dumbledore turned and headed off down another corridor. Riddle watched until Dumbledore was out of sight before hurrying off, heading down towards the dungeons. Harriet thought they were indeed going to follow Dumbledore’s instructions and go to the Slytherin common room when Riddle paused and ducked into the same dungeon in which Professor Snape now taught Potions.

Harriet waited with bated breath as they hid. Riddle had kept the door open only a crack, peering out and waiting. He was almost motionless as he stood watching. The entire time, Harriet could not keep her eyes off Riddle. Something was starting to puzzle her. If Riddle did know something about the attacks, and who was doing it, why hadn’t he come forward before? Or why didn’t he just tell Professor Dippet?

Harriet didn’t know how long they had waited when finally she heard something in the hallway beyond. It was the sound of footsteps, as though someone very large was trying to sneak inexpertly down the hall. The footsteps moved past, and Riddle opened the door silently, creeping out after whoever had walked past. Harriet started sneaking out behind Riddle, when she remembered that she couldn’t be heard and blushed, simply walking along with him.

Harriet stopped as Riddle paused and listened. She heard the sound of a door opening, and a gruff voice spoke.

“C’mon… gotta get yeh outta here… C’mon now… into the box…”

Harriet blinked. She knew that voice. It was perhaps the voice of her favourite person in the entire world.

Before Harriet could ponder this any further, Riddle sprang around the corner and drew his wand in one fluid motion. Harriet peered around the corner and saw the tallest boy she had ever seen in her life. He stood almost as tall as the ceiling, and he was crouched in front of what looked like a broom cupboard. Beside him was a huge, open box.

“Evening, Rubeus,” Riddle said.

Harriet couldn’t help but notice an air of triumph in Riddle’s voice.

The tall boy who could only be a fifty-year younger Hagrid slammed the cupboard door shut and rounded on Riddle.

“What yer doin’ down here, Tom?”

Riddle grinned and took a step towards Hagrid. Despite knowing how gentle Hagrid was, Harriet had to admit she was impressed by the bravery Riddle showed, stepping up to a boy twice his height.

“It’s all over. I’m going to have to turn you in, Rubeus. They’re talking about closing Hogwarts if the attacks don’t stop,” Riddle said.

Harriet still couldn’t help but notice the triumphant tone Riddle had. She also couldn’t bring herself to believe what she was seeing. Hagrid, the Heir of Slytherin? Setting a giant monster loose on the school’s Muggle-born students? It couldn’t be, it just couldn’t be.

“What d’yeh—?”

“I don’t think you meant to kill anyone. But monsters don’t make good pets. I suppose you just let it out for exercise and—”

“He never killed no one!” Hagrid shouted.

Hagrid backed against the door, shielding it from Riddle. It was then that Harriet heard the disconcerting sound of something rustling and an agitated clicking noise.

“Come on, Rubeus. The dead girl’s parents will be here tomorrow. The least Hogwarts can do is make sure that the thing that killed their daughter is slaughtered…”

‘It wasn’t him!” Hagrid bellowed. “He wouldn’! He never!”

“Stand aside!” Riddle ordered, raising his wand.

Riddle cast a charm on the door behind Hagrid that was so powerful, the door flung Hagrid across the hall, past Riddle and into the wall. The hallway was lit brightly by the spell, and in the fading light, Harriet finally saw what had been inside the cupboard.

Harriet screamed. Inside the cupboard was the most giant spider Harriet had ever seen. It filled the entire cupboard, and it had two large glinting front eyes, surrounded by six smaller eyes, set above a giant pair of fangs.

With surprising speed, the spider shot from the cupboard, one of its long legs swatting Riddle aside as easily as if he were a rag-doll. Riddle forced himself to his feet and raised his wand after the departing monstrosity.

“NOOOOOOO!” Hagrid cried and grabbed hold of Riddle, pushing him back down to the ground.

At that moment, the scene began to swirl and darken. Harriet felt as though she were flying, or perhaps more floating with great speed, shooting up into the air. With a sudden crunch, she landed back in her chair, grunting in pain and rubbing her back. She continued to stare at the diary. She couldn’t believe what she had seen. She just couldn’t. Could it have been Hagrid, all along?

* * * *

“I don’t believe it.”

It was the next day, and Harriet and her friends were all gathered around Hermione’s hospital bed. Harriet had finally told her friends about the diary and what she had seen in Riddle’s memory. They were all displeased that Harriet had chosen to keep it a secret, but none were as upset as Ronnie. Ronnie was even more upset with her because of how dangerous it had been for Harriet even to touch the diary. She wasted little time telling Harriet off and listing all the perilous books there were, the most unpleasant being one that melted its reader’s eyes.

Now that was all over. However, they had turned to the topic of Hagrid letting the monster out of the Chamber of Secrets. Of all of them, Ronnie also looked the most distraught about the prospect of the monster being a giant spider. Harriet remembered how strongly Ronnie feared spiders after the shed incident last summer and knew that the possibility of a giant spider running about the school was probably Ronnie’s worst nightmare come true.

“I just can’t believe it,” Kieran continued, thinking hard.

“Nor me,” Scott said in agreement. “Something just seems all wrong about that… just… trying to put my finger on what…”

“Yeah… none of these attacks seem like the kind of attack a spider would do…” Hermione said. She was starting to make some progress in her treatment and had already lost her prominent whiskers.

“Though… this is the same man who called a Cerberus, Fluffy, and tried to raise a baby-dragon,” Ronnie admitted, sighing.

There was a reluctant murmuring of agreement at this.

“Yeah… Hagrid probably would do whatever it took to find a monster here in the castle,” Dora said. “He probably felt sorry for it being cooped up for so long.”

 “Well, no matter what, I do know one thing,” Harriet said, feeling defiant. “Hagrid would have never meant to kill anybody, or hurt anyone.”

There were more nods and murmurs of agreement on this as well.

“And… well… maybe… maybe Riddle had the wrong person?” Hermione suggested. “I’ve never heard of a spider that could petrify people; maybe it was some other monster, and Hagrid was the victim of mistaken identity?”

Harriet chewed her lip in thought. Hermione did have a point. However, Harriet was also aware of the fact she probably wanted Hermione to be right more than believing her.

Ronnie suddenly looked nervously over at Harriet. “Harriet… you said that Hagrid found you down Knockturn Alley this—”

“He was shopping for slug-repellent,” Harriet said, in a more defensive tone than she’d meant.

There was another awkward pause when Hermione spoke up. “Do… do any of you think maybe… we should, just… I don’t know… ask Hagrid about it?”

“Yeah… that’d be a cheery visit,” Ronnie grumbled.

In the end, they still had no idea what they were going to do. There was no option they could think of other than waiting that seemed to spare Hagrid. The remainder of the Christmas holidays passed without incident. They thought perhaps the Heir had gone home for the holidays, which Harriet thought was reassuring. As Hagrid had not left, no attacks happening while he was here at the school seemed to be evidence of his innocence, which made Harriet feel better.

There was something else that was intruding on Harriet’s mind as well. As the days went by, Harriet could not help but notice Isabella sitting alone at the Hufflepuff table, away from the others. Harriet noted how aside from the Hufflepuff prefect, Cedric Diggory, Isabella was the only Hufflepuff student beside the refugees to stay behind. Furthermore, the McGee twins, the only two Hufflepuff refugees in their year, had also left for the holidays. With almost all of her usual friends gone for the holidays, Harriet could only imagine how lonely Isabella must be.

Finally, a week and a half before the end of the holidays, Harriet worked up the courage and walked over to her in the Great Hall.

“Hey, Isabella, mind if we join you?”

Isabella blinked looking entirely taken aback.

“Oh, um…” she thought and finally smiled. “Yeah, that’d be great!”

Harriet beamed. After all the uncomfortable events that had happened, Hermione being transformed into a half cat, and Riddle’s diary, Harriet was glad to do something that made someone else smile for a change.

Harriet waved to the others, and they all came over, smiling too.

“Hey Bella,” Dora said as she sat.

Isabella smiled. “Hey Dora, how’s life amongst the happiest house in school?”

Dora rolled her eyes. “Oh you know, same old same old, a little ‘I hate Muggle-borns’ this, a little ‘I hate you too,’ that.”

Everyone laughed. They spent the rest of dinner chatting about their home lives when finally Harriet had an idea.

“Hey, well we’ve all seen the Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Slytherin common rooms, why don’t we go hang with you in your common room tonight?” Harriet asked Isabella.

Isabella’s eyebrows rose. “You’ve been in the Slytherin common room?”

Harriet felt her insides clench. “Oh, well, we’ve walked Dora there before and peeked inside, not like we’ve hung out there before,” she said, somewhat lamely.

“Oh, well, yeah, that would be great!” Isabella chirped.

They all got up and followed Isabella who seemed to have a little bounce in her step as she led them. They had just reached the door to the Great Hall when Harriet paused. She looked back over her shoulder seeing Rachel and AJ talking with Erica. She gave a wave catching their attention and beckoned for them to follow.

AJ started to rise, but Rachel looked at Erica. Erica just smiled and nodded to Rachel, who rose and followed AJ. As Harriet watched them come, she caught Erica’s eye. To Harriet’s surprise, Erica gave her a smile that could only be pride before she flipped open her ever-present copy of Magical Beasts and Where to Find Them and resumed reading.

Harriet blushed and turned to re-join the group when Rachel and AJ caught up with her. Isabella then led them down a flight of stairs and a corridor. Harriet felt her chest tighten as she realised they were heading down the same hallway that she and Marcus found Colin that fall. Indeed, they walked right past the very spot. Harriet recognised the large portrait of a bowl of fruit.

They continued past until Isabella stopped them in front of a nook in the wall that was filled with large barrels stacked on their side. Harriet furrowed her brow, and Isabella stepped up to the barrels. She raised her hand when suddenly Rachel rushed forward excitedly.

“OH! Let me do it! Let me do it!” she squealed with delight.

“I wanna too!” AJ said and pushed past Isabella too.

Harriet watched with amazement as Rachel reached up and knocked twice on one of the barrels and said: “Hel-ga.”

AJ quickly jumped in and knocked three times muttering: “Huff-le-puff!”

Isabella rolled her eyes. “Show-offs,” she teased but laughed as the two girls ducked and climbed through the passage.

“Oh, that’s clever…” Scott muttered thoughtfully, leaning closer to inspect the door.

“You have to knock and say Helga Hufflepuff’s name?” Dora asked, interested.

“Nah,” Isabella said. “You just have to knock out the rhythm, but saying the name helps you remember.”

“Well that doesn’t sound so hard to get past,” Ronnie said.

Isabella smirked. “It’s not until you don’t do it right.”

“What happens then?” Hermione asked.

Isabella’s smirk grew. “You get doused in vinegar and barred entrance.”

Harriet swallowed and made a note in her mind that in the future she would always wait for someone to open the door to the Hufflepuff common room properly.

Harriet stepped forward and bent down as she moved through the passage. Once she reached the end and rose, Harriet couldn’t help but gape as she finally took in the Hufflepuff common room.

The entire room was a giant circle, and there were flowing yellow hangings on the ceiling, and brass pots full of lush green plants everywhere. It was very warm with a roaring fire going in the large, round fireplace. The fireplace had a wooden mantelpiece covered in carved badgers and topped with a large portrait of a woman Harriet took to be Helga Hufflepuff herself, who was smiling down at them all warm and welcoming. There were black, overstuffed armchairs and sofas everywhere. The walls were lined at the top with circular windows. Harriet was amazed that outside the windows, instead of seeing the Hogwarts grounds, there were vast fields of waving grass and yellow dandelions. Two other large circular doors were on either side of the fireplace, and Harriet assumed they led to the boy and girl dormitories.

“Wow… this is fantastic…” Dora said, looking around. She ran over and flopped into one of the chairs, giggling as she bounced on it.

Isabella laughed as AJ and Rachel followed suit. “We may not have the best reputation when it comes to academics… but at least we have the best common room.”

As Harriet looked around, she had to admit Isabella may have had a point. It was very comfortable and warm here. Everything had an air of home about it. In fact, even if it didn’t look much like it, Harriet couldn’t help but get the same feeling of comfort and “home” like she had at the Burrow with the Weasleys.

They all took seats near the fireplace. Having exhausted the topic of home, they instead began talking about why they had all stayed behind over break. Most everyone had to lie about this, except for Harriet and Isabella. It turned out Isabella had to remain in school because her mother was away on business and couldn’t return in time to get her from the Hogwarts Express, and didn’t want her and her younger sister staying home alone.

“I guess I wouldn’t have minded it so much… if Jeremy ever wrote me back…” Isabella said sounding hurt.

“That doesn’t sound like him…” Scott said scratching his chin.

“Aye, are you sure he’s not doing something with family and just busy?” Kieran asked, sounding concerned.

Isabella shook her head. “I don’t know… we were writing back and forth pretty regularly, then at the start of January he just… stopped writing back… he didn’t say before that he was going anywhere…”

Isabella looked down at her lap. “He’s my best friend… I wrote his parents once even, and they said he’s fine, and they would talk to him… but I still haven’t heard back…”

Harriet and her friends all looked at each other. That didn’t sound like the Jeremy that Harriet had come to know. All last fall he had always seemed so lively and friendly. He’d also been the most outspoken about Harriet’s innocence. Harriet couldn’t imagine he wasn’t writing back unless he had an excellent reason.

However, they were all distracted from the subject of Jeremy by the sound of someone tapping out the rhythm to get through the secret door. The door swung open, and Harriet felt her heart skip a beat as Cedric Diggory came in. He stood up and stretched, looking around when his eyes fell upon the group around the fireplace. His eyes went wide.

“Martinez?” He asked in bewilderment. “Did… did you let them all in?”

Isabella flushed looking nervous.

“Um… yes…? Was that… was that bad…?” She asked, sounding as worried as she looked.

Cedric continued to stare, his face unreadable. “No non-Hufflepuff student has set foot inside the Hufflepuff common room since the school was founded…”

Isabella hung her head, looking ashamed. Dora went red in the face too but her look was more of anger than embarrassment, and she got to her feet.

“And what’s wrong with it? I’ve been in the Gryffindor common room, and the Ravenclaw common room!”

“Aye, Clearwater had no problem with it,” Scott agreed.

“An’ besides, Rachel an’ I an’ lotsa the others who we came with this summer been in here before. We all found out how ta get in over the summer. Dumbledore showed us all how to get into every common room!”

Cedric laughed holding up his hands. “No, no! Honestly you lot, it’s fine! I was just surprised!” he said smiling. “I think it’s great. Good on you Martinez, nice to have you all here. Dumbledore always says the houses need to be more unified.”

Cedric looked at Harriet and smiled more. “Though… you might not want to tell Wood about this. He might consider it ‘fraternising’ with the enemy or something.”

Harriet blushed and forced a laugh. “I… well… maybe… well, he’s not that bad…” she said, not meeting Cedric’s eyes.

Cedric turned to Ronnie. “Oh, hey Weasley. How’s the family?”

Ronnie’s cheeks also reddened. “They’re fine. How’re your folks?”

Cedric shrugged. “Well enough, well enough.” He smiled again at Harriet. “So, Potter, ready for our rematch next month?”

Harriet felt the knot in her stomach tighten. “Of course I am, are you?” she asked back. She felt just like she had after her first match with Cedric, trying to sound tougher and more confident than she felt.

Cedric winked, sending Harriet’s heart into a flutter. “Better be, Potter, I’ve been practising hard for it.”

Cedric turned without another word and headed towards one of the round doors beside the fireplace. They all watched him go. Harriet couldn’t help but smile. As much as she knew he was her opponent on the Hufflepuff Quidditch team, she couldn’t help but feel he was one of the best boys she had ever met. He was so genuinely kind and caring.

Harriet finally looked back at her friends and found them all looking at her with varying expressions. Kieran, Scott, Hermione, and Isabella looked amused, while Ronnie, AJ, and Rachel were almost in fits of laughter. Dora was not paying any attention by the looks of it, seeming overly interested in the knits in her Weasley jumper.

“What?” Harriet asked, blushing.

“Nothing, nothing,” Hermione said, though her expression said otherwise.

“Yeah, ‘nothing;’ the same amount of effort you put into hiding how much you fancy him,” Ronnie teased.

“Hey!” Harriet retorted. “I do not fancy him!”

“It… was pretty obvious…” Isabella chimed in, giggling.

Harriet rolled her eyes. “Well, okay, he’s nice… but… that’s all…”

Hermione laughed. “It’s fine Harriet; we know it’s not just him.”

“What do you mean?” Harriet asked, feeling hot under the collar.

“Well, it’s the same way you act around Wood, for one…” Ronnie teased.

Harriet blushed looking away. However, as she did, she couldn’t help but catch the looks on Kieran and Dora’s faces. Kieran was smiling though his jaw was set a little too hard to make the smile all that convincing. Dora, on the other hand, was looking at the door that Cedric had left through. Though Harriet could only see her profile, Harriet could tell she was frowning, and her hands were gripping the arms of the chair she was sitting in, digging her nails into the upholstery.