Chapter 52 // a memory
Vandaag Tom Felton ontmoet op Facts Gent! #Fangirling!
‘What do you mean, she won’t wake?’ Harry said desperately. ‘She’s not — she’s not —?’
‘She’s still alive,’ said Riddle. ‘But only just.’
I stared at him, unable to process all the information I was getting. He looked no older than fifteen, maybe sixteen, which was impossible.
‘Are you a ghost?’ Harry said uncertainly.
‘A memory,’ said Riddle quietly. ‘Preserved in a diary for fifty years.’
I didn’t understand, but then he pointed toward the floor near the statue’s giant toes. Lying open there was the little black diary.
‘You’ve got to help me, Tom,’ Harry said, raising Ginny’s head again. ‘We’ve got to get her out of here. There’s a basilisk… I don’t know where it is, but it could be along any moment… Please, help me.’
Riddle didn’t move. I held up my wand, not understanding how Harry could trust this guy so easily. He was the one who framed Hagrid. Harry was trying to hoist Ginny half off the floor.
‘Harry,’ I said again. His hand reached out, looking for the wand he dropped. But his wand had gone.
‘Kath, did you see —?’ I nodded towards the memory. Riddle was still watching us, twirling Harry’s wand between his long fingers.
‘Thanks,’ said Harry, stretching out his hand for it.
A smile curled the corners of Riddle’s mouth. He continued to stare at Harry, twirling the wand idly.
‘Listen,’ said Harry urgently, his knees sagging with Ginny’s dead weight. ‘We’ve got to go! If the basilisk comes —’
‘It won’t come until it is called,’ said Riddle calmly. Harry lowered Ginny back onto the floor, unable to hold her up any longer.
‘What do you mean?’ he said. ‘Look, give me my wand, I might need it —’
‘Harry, would you shut up?’ I said. ‘You can’t trust this guy.’
‘I’ve waited a long time for this, Harry Potter,’ said Riddle. ‘For the chance to see you. To speak to you.’
‘Look,’ said Harry, losing patience, ‘I don’t think you get it. We’re in the Chamber of Secrets. We can talk later —’
‘We’re going to talk now,’ said Riddle, still smiling broadly, and he pocketed Harry’s wand. I swallowed again, raising my wand even higher.
‘How did Ginny get like this?’ Harry asked slowly.
‘Well, that’s an interesting question,’ said Riddle pleasantly. ‘And quite a long story. I suppose the real reason Ginny Weasley’s like this is because she opened her heart and spilled all her secrets to an invisible stranger.’
‘The diary,’ I whispered, looking down at the thing. ‘His diary, right, Harry? You told me about it. I didn’t make anything about it at the time, but Ginny’s been writing in it for months.’
Riddle’s eyes never left Harry’s face. There was an almost hungry look in them.
‘It’s very boring, having to listen to the silly little troubles of an eleven-year-old girl,’ he said. ‘But I was patient. I wrote back. I was sympathetic, I was kind. Ginny simply loved me. No one’s ever understood me like you, Tom… I’m so glad I’ve got this diary to confide in… It’s like having a friend I can carry around in my pocket…’
Riddle laughed, a high, cold laugh that didn’t suit him. It made the hairs stand up on the back of my neck.
‘If I say it myself, Harry, I’ve always been able to charm the people I needed. So, Ginny poured out her soul to me, and her soul happened to be exactly what I wanted… I grew stronger and stronger on a diet of her deepest fears, her darkest secrets. I grew powerful, far more powerful than little Miss Weasley. Powerful enough to start feeding Miss Weasley a few of my secrets, to start pouring a little of my soul back into her…’