What Really Happened- by Tom Riddle's ghost

Year 2

After Professor Quirrell died, I found another host, but he requested that I not disclose his identity.

I spent the following summer picking up roadside trash in the British countryside.  I didn't use magic, of course.  Since British folk drive on the left side of the road, and I am right-handed, I picked up the trash mainly with my left hand.

During the fourth week of my volunteer work, I bent down and picked up a Chocolate Frogs card wrapper.  "That's interesting," I thought.  "The nearest wizard family I know, the Pettigrews, lives about 20 miles away, in the village of St. Gangster.  Oh, well.  Must have run afoul of the wind."  The next day, I picked up a Nutrition Facts label for Cockroach Clusters.  "Hmmm.  Maybe an air current carries this rubbish here.  I should reprimand the Pettigrews for polluting," I thought.

The next day, though, I stumbled over an empty glass bottle of Madame Rosmerta's finest mead.  "Okay, that does it! Something fishy's going on," I said aloud.  I hid in some dense bushes and looked up.  High above me, I spotted a tall, thin figure on a broomstick.  He bore a silvery, flowing beard.  He wore sky-blue robes for camouflage, and he had a plastic trash bag slung over his back.  By squinting, I was able to discern a pair of half-moon spectacles resting on his crooked nose.  I saw him throw down some more rubbish.

Dumbledore saw me looking at him, and he hastily tried to shove the bag of rubbish under his robes to hide it.  Then he peeled out.

After that episode, I was pleased to find no more magic-related trash, save for some scratched DVDs about Dark Magic, which I discovered in a nearby ravine.

During that summer, I found several hundred aluminum cans by the side of the road, and I took them to a scrap metal place in Diagon Alley and sold them.  I would use the money to reward myself with a tiny shopping spree.  I went to Flourish and Blotts and bought some books that Hogwarts students would need.  Then I found a donation bin out in the Alley, and I dropped the books in.  "That was fun," I said.

I decided to visit my old friend Quentin Smithee, who owned a hologram shop in Diagon Alley.  When I went inside the shop, a bell on the door rang.  Quentin greeted me, then told me a most peculiar story: a man in a cloak had just ordered a hologram of TOM RIDDLE!  And furthermore, he wanted Quentin to cast the hologram spell on a 50-year-old diary.  Quentin told me, "I probably would have forgotten about it, but you came in just now.  Do you want to fulfill the order?"  I complied, yanking a hair out of my armpit and handing it to my friend.  He used a spell on it, and the diary showed a hologram of my teenage form. Bloody weird!

As I strolled down Diagon Alley, I wondered, "How did I shop at Flourish and Blotts without getting caught? Oh, they knew I'd buy stuff, so they didn't report me."   Notwithstanding my luck that day, I deemed it prudent to go into hiding again.

I left Diagon Alley and set up camp in the mountains near Hogwarts.  The isolation subserved introspection.  On some days, clouds enveloped the top of my mountain, but the sky was clear all around, permitting the lakes all around me to gleam brilliantly with reflected sunlight.  Those were my favorite days.

Taking a leaf out of Hagrid's book, I subsisted on vegetables I grew in a garden, aiding their growth with magic.  Last year, I frequently wondered if Hagrid consumed the vegetables he grew; given his bulk, I concluded that he probably relied on them to stave off his hunger in between meals in the Great Hall.  Like Hagrid, I also had a pink umbrella, but I never used mine; during the frequent rains, I would either stay dry inside my cozy cave, or go outside to let the cold raindrops invigorate me.

I placed advertisements in the Daily Prophet for a homework-assistance service.  Students would send me owls carrying their homework assignments, and I would complete them for about a Sickle each.  After all, I had been one of the most brilliant students ever at Hogwarts, and it would be a shame to waste my intelligence.  I donated most of my profits to St. Mungo's Hospital.  Most of my customers were Slytherins, but my top customer was a Gryffindor girl with outstanding teeth: Hermione Granger.  In fact, she hired me for so many homework assignments, that I began to wonder just where she got all that money.  I decided to keep her payments separate from the other students' payments for a while, and — lo and behold! — she had been paying me with leprechaun silver all along!  Blimey!  I sent her a warning letter, and she started using real money.

I decided to go visit Hogsmeade one day.  I wanted to buy some Cockroach Clusters and do a little sightseeing, but there was also something important I had to do.

I went into the Three Broomsticks.  All kinds of interesting-looking wizards and witches hunched over the tables, but I needed to find a Hogwarts employee.  After glancing around for a few seconds, I saw tiny little Professor Flitwick enter the lavatory (that means bathroom).  I followed him inside, but he was already in a stall, so I waited by the sink.  "He sure is tiny!" I thought.  "He's so short, he could probably walk right underneath the stall door," I mused.  The minutes ticked by while I waited for him to come out...five...ten...after twenty minutes had passed, I was almost gagging from the noisome stench.  My nose was running, and my eyes were watering as liberally as Hagrid's when he's drunk.  I desperately tried to recall the air-freshening charm, but I couldn't.  I resisted the urge to leave the lavatory, because with my luck, he would leave right behind me.

I tried to keep my mind on other things, such as the times I had turned the lights off on people in Muggle lavatories.  Ha, ha, ha!  Unfortunately, the Three Broomsticks' bathroom was illuminated by a chandelier with dozens of candles, which were too high to blow out, and would take too long to put out with magic.  Just then, I heard a familiar voice singing Led Zeppelin's "Ramble On" out in the hallway.  Dumbledore!  I barely had time to enter a stall and close the door before Dumblesnot came in.  He started snickering, and I peered out through a crack.  He was holding a silver device shaped like a cigarette lighter.  He clicked it, and all the candles were extinguished!  His merry cackle reverbated throughout the pitch-black room, echoing off the floor tiles.  After three minutes, a scuffling noise came from Flitwick's stall, followed by a squeak: "Lumos!"  When Dumbledore realized that Flitwick was using his wand as a flashlight, the headmaster stopped laughing, re-lit the candles, and left.

I left my stall and resumed waiting by the sink.  Finally, forty minutes after entering the restroom, Flitwick came out of his stall.  I ambushed him and stole his hair, then deleted his memory.  I needed to disguise myself as a teacher, so I could protect the students from Dumbledore.  My wait had been worth it.

The rest of the term (school year) was uneventful.  At the end, I found out that the diary containing my hologram had caused trouble.  I'd been framed again!

The next year (Harry's third year)  was so uneventful, that I don't remember any of it.