CHAPTER THIRTEEN
see him, standing stock-still by the door, watching the passage out-
side.
It felt to Harry that they were there for at least an hour. All he
could see was the figure of Riddle at the door, staring through the
crack, waiting like a statue. And just when Harry had stopped feel-
ing expectant and tense and started wishing he could return to the
present, he heard something move beyond the door.
Someone was creeping along the passage. He heard whoever it
was pass the dungeon where he and Riddle were hidden. Riddle,
quiet as a shadow, edged through the door and followed, Harry tip-
toeing behind him, forgetting that he couldn’t be heard.
For perhaps five minutes they followed the footsteps, until Rid-
dle stopped suddenly, his head inclined in the direction of new
noises. Harry heard a door creak open, and then someone speaking
in a hoarse whisper.
“C’mon . . . gotta get yeh outta here. . . . C’mon now . . . in the
box . . .”
There was something familiar about that voice. . . .
Riddle suddenly jumped around the corner. Harry stepped
out behind him. He could see the dark outline of a huge boy
who was crouching in front of an open door, a very large box next
to it.
“ ’Evening, Rubeus,” said Riddle sharply.
The boy slammed the door shut and stood up.
“What yer doin’ down here, Tom?”
Riddle stepped closer.
“It’s all over,” he said. “I’m going to have to turn you in, Rubeus.
They’re talking about closing Hogwarts if the attacks don’t stop.”
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