Harry x Hermione: It started early

Chapter sixteen

Chapter sixteen : The journal

Winter settled over Hogwarts, casting a blanket of snow over the castle and its grounds. The chill in the air was matched by the growing tension within its walls, as rumors of the Chamber of Secrets resurfaced, sending waves of unease through the student body.

One day, while searching for a book in the library, Ginny stumbled upon an old, tattered diary. Its pages held the name "Tom Riddle," and as she leafed through its contents, a connection formed—an invisible thread that drew her deeper into its pages.

Curiosity got the best of Ginny, and she confided in Harry, Hermione, and Ron about her discovery. The trio gathered in the Gryffindor common room, their faces illuminated by the warm glow of the fireplace.

"I found this diary, and it used to belong to someone named Tom Riddle," Ginny explained, her voice hushed. "There's something... eerie about it."

Hermione's brows furrowed, concern etching her features. "Tom Riddle? That name sounds familiar."

Harry's thoughts drifted to the Sorting Hat's warning about the Chamber of Secrets. "Yeah, the Sorting Hat mentioned him. Said he was a Slytherin who went bad."

As they delved into the diary's contents, they stumbled upon an unsettling entry—a memory captured on paper, revealing that Tom Riddle suspected Hagrid of opening the Chamber of Secrets fifty years prior.

"That doesn't make sense," Ron said, his brow furrowed. "Hagrid wouldn't hurt anyone."

Harry's gaze flickered between his friends, realization dawning. "Hagrid got expelled in his third year. If Riddle caught him, that would explain how he knew."

But as the days passed, the trio's attention shifted from Hagrid to a new suspect—Draco Malfoy. The discovery of the message written in blood on the wall intensified their suspicions, and soon, whispers filled the corridors with accusations that Malfoy was the heir of Slytherin.

Amidst the growing chaos, Harry's life took an unexpected turn during a dueling scene. In a moment of anger and frustration, he found himself speaking in Parseltongue, a language he had never consciously learned. The shock that rippled through the crowd was palpable, and the accusing stares sent a wave of unease crashing over him.

As Harry struggled to comprehend what had just happened, Hermione's voice was a mixture of concern and confusion. "Harry, you were speaking to the snake in Parseltongue. How did you know how to do that?"

Harry's heart pounded in his chest, his thoughts a whirlwind of panic and confusion. He looked at his friends, their expressions a mix of shock and suspicion. "I don't know, Hermione. I've never done that before."

Ginny's voice carried a hint of fear as she spoke up. "Parseltongue is the language of Slytherin. They say the heir can speak it."

Harry's world seemed to tilt on its axis, the weight of everyone's eyes on him. Accusations and murmurs filled the air, and for a moment, he felt like an outsider—a pariah branded by a language he didn't understand.

Amid the chaos, Hermione's voice cut through the tension. "This doesn't make sense. Harry couldn't be the heir of Slytherin."

But even her words couldn't silence the growing suspicions, the fear that had taken root in the hearts of those around him.

As the days turned into nights, the trio found themselves navigating a world that had turned against Harry. Whispers of the Chamber of Secrets and the heir of Slytherin cast a shadow over their every step, and the unspoken feelings that had always lingered between them now seemed distant and irrelevant in the face of the looming darkness.

And so, as Harry grappled with his newfound abilities and the weight of accusations, the golden trio found themselves at a crossroads—a point where friendships were tested, secrets threatened to unravel, and the echoes of the past grew louder with each passing moment.