CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“A memory,” said Riddle quietly. “Preserved in a diary for fifty
years.”
He pointed toward the floor near the statue’s giant toes. Lying
open there was the little black diary Harry had found in Moaning
Myrtle’s bathroom. For a second, Harry wondered how it had got
there — but there were more pressing matters to deal with.
“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. Harry, sweating, managed to hoist Ginny
half off the floor, and bent to pick up his wand again.
But his wand had gone.
“Did you see — ?”
He looked up. Riddle was still watching him — 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 d’you mean?” he said. “Look, give me my wand, I might
need it —”
Riddle’s smile broadened.
“You won’t be needing it,” he said.
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