𝔖𝔱𝔬𝔯𝔶 𝔯𝔢𝔭𝔢𝔞𝔱 𝔦𝔱𝔰𝔢𝔩𝔣 | 𝐇𝐏 ʷᵗᵐ

𝟎𝟒𝟏; ᴍᴇᴍᴏʀɪᴇs

THE PAGES OF THE DIARY, began to blow as though caught in a high wind,
stopping halfway through the month of June. Coventina saw that the little square for June thirteenth seemed to have turned into a miniscule television screen.

"So we are watching the memories of someone who is currently watching the memories of someone else?" Evan comments which make everyone have headache.

The window was widening, she felt her body leave her bed, and she was
pitched headfirst through the opening in the page, into a whirl of color and shadow. She felt her feet her solid ground, and stood, shaking, as the blurred shapes around her came suddenly into focus.

She knew immediately where she was. This circular room with the
sleeping portraits was Dumbledore's office - but it wasn't Dumbledore
who was sitting behind the desk. A wizened, fraillooking wizard, bald
except for a few wisps of white hair, was reading a letter by candlelight. Coventina had never seen this man before.

"Dippet." Euphemia mutters. "Who?" Sirius questions. "The former headmaster of Hogwarts." Fleamont replies.

"Oh."

"Sir?" She said but the wizard didn't look up. He continued to read, frowning slightly. Coventina drew nearer to his desk and stammered, "Hello?" Still the wizard ignored her. He didn't seem even to have heard her. Thinking that the wizard might be deaf.

The wizard folded up the letter with a sigh, stood up, walked past Coventina without glancing at her, and went to draw the curtains at his window.

The sky outside the window was ruby-red; it seemed to be sunset.
The wizard went back to the desk, sat down, and twiddled his thumbs, watching the door.

Coventina looked around the office. No Fawkes the phoenix - no whirring
silver contraptions. This was Hogwarts as Riddle had known it,
meaning that this unknown wizard was Headmaster, not Dumbledore,
and she, Coventina was little more than a phantom, completely invisible to the people of fifty years ago.

"Wow!" Dorcas grins seeing the old office.

"Is it me or does he have more fashion taste than Dumbledore?" Narcissa whispers to Pandora.

"He does." Regulus replies.

There was a knock on the office door.
"Enter," said the old wizard in a feeble voice. A boy of about sixteen entered, taking off his pointed hat. A silver prefect's badge was glinting on his chest. He was much taller than
Coventina, but he, too, had jet-black hair.

"He is so hot!" Marlene and Dorcas exclaims loudly.

"Yet you are going to be married to
me." Rabastan chuckles.

"Hmfp!"

"Ah, Riddle," said the Headmaster.
"You wanted to see me, Professor Dippet?" said Riddle. He looked
nervous.

"Sit down," said Dippet. "I've just been reading the letter you sent me.
"Oh," said Riddle. He sat down, gripping his hands together very
tightly. "My dear boy," said Dipper kindly, "I cannot possibly let you stay at school over the summer. Surely you want to go home for the holidays?"

"No," said Riddle at once. "Id much rather stay at Hogwarts than go
back to that - to that -"

"You live in a Muggle orphanage during the holidays, I believe?" said
Dippet curiously. "Yes, sir," said Riddle, reddening slightly.