Chamber Of Secrets Tom Riddle Quotes

Maybe he murdered Myrtle; that would’ve done everyone a favor. . . .

Voldemort,” said Riddle softly, “is my past, present, and future, Harry Potter. . . .” He pulled Harry’s wand from his pocket and began to trace it through the air, writing three shimmering words: TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE Then he waved the wand once, and the letters of his name rearranged themselves: I AM LORD VOLDEMORT

It only put me in Griffindor. said Harry in a defeated voice, because I asked not to go in Slytherin... EXACTLY, said Dumbledore, beaming once more. Which makes you very different from Tom Riddle. It is our choices, Harry, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities.

This diary holds memories of terrible things. Things that were covered up. Things that happened at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

present and future, Harry Potter …’ He pulled Harry’s wand from his pocket and began to trace it through the air, writing three shimmering words: TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE Then he waved the wand once, and the letters of his name rearranged themselves: I AM LORD VOLDEMORT

Listen to me, Harry. You happen to have many qualities Salazar Slytherin prized in his hand-picked students. His own very rare gift, Parseltongue — resourcefulness — determination — a certain disregard for rules,” he added, his mustache quivering again. “Yet the Sorting Hat placed you in Gryffindor. You know why that was. Think.” “It only put me in Gryffindor,” said Harry in a defeated voice, “because I asked not to go in Slytherin. . . .” “Exactly,” said Dumbledore, beaming once more. “Which makes you very different from Tom Riddle. It is our choices, Harry, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities.

Which makes you very different from Tom Riddle. It is our choices, Harry, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities

My diary. Little Ginny’s been writing in it for months and months, telling me all her pitiful worries and woes — how her brothers tease her, how she had to come to school with secondhand robes and books, how” — Riddle’s eyes glinted — “how she didn’t think famous, good, great Harry Potter would ever like her. . . .” All the time he spoke, Riddle’s eyes never left Harry’s face. There was an almost hungry look in them. “It’s very boring, having to listen to the silly little troubles of an eleven-year-old girl,” he went on. “But I was patient. I wrote back. I was sympathetic, I was kind. Ginny simply loved me. No one’s ever understood me like you, Tom. . . . I’m so glad I’ve got this diary to confide in. . . . It’s like having a friend I can carry around in my pocket. . . .” Riddle laughed, a high, cold laugh that didn’t suit him. It made the hairs stand up on the back of Harry’s neck. “If I say it myself, Harry, I’ve always been able to charm the people I needed. So Ginny poured out her soul to me, and her soul happened to be exactly what I wanted. . . . I grew stronger and stronger on a diet of her deepest fears, her darkest secrets. I grew powerful, far more powerful than little Miss Weasley. Powerful enough to start feeding Miss Weasley a few of my secrets, to start pouring a little of my soul back into her . . .

I cannot possibly let you stay at school over the summer. Surely you want to go home for the holidays?" "No," Riddle said at once. "I'd 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. "You are Muggle-born?" "Half-blood, sir," said Riddle. "Muggle father, witch mother." "And are both your parents-?" "My mother died just after I was born, sir. They told me at the orphanage she lived just long enough to name me- Tom after my father, Marvolo after my grandfather.

Harry had to crane his neck to look up into the giant face above: It was ancient and monkeyish, with a long, thin beard that fell almost to the bottom of the wizard's sweeping stone robes, where two enormous gray feet stood on the smooth Chamber floor. And between the feet, facedown, lay a small, black-robed figure with flaming-red hair. "Ginny!" Harry muttered, sprinting to her and dropping to his knees. "Ginny- don't be dead- please don't be dead-" He flung his wand aside, grabbed Ginny's shoulders, and turned her over. Her face was white as marble, and as cold, yet her eyes were closed, so she wasn't Petrified. But then she must be- "Ginny, please wake up," Harry muttered desperately, shaking her. Ginny's head lolled hopelessly from side to side. "She won't wake," said a soft voice. Harry jumped and spun around on his knees. A tall, black-haired boy was leaning against the nearest pillar, watching. He was strangely blurred around the edges, as though Harry were looking at him through a misted window. But there was no mistaking him- "Tom- Tom Riddle?" Riddle nodded, not taking his eyes off Harry's face. "What d'you mean, she won't wake?" Harry said desperately. "She's not- she's not-?" "She's still alive," said Riddle. "But only just.

I suppose the real reason Ginny Weasley's like this is because she opened her heart and spilled all her secrets to an invisible stranger." "What are you talking about?" said Harry. "The diary," said Riddle. "My diary. Little Ginny's been writing in it for months and months, telling me all her pitiful worries and woes- how her brothers tease her, how she had come to school with secondhand robes and books, how"- Riddle's eyes glinted- "how she didn't think famous, good, great Harry Potter would ever like her..." All the time he spoke, Riddle's eyes never left Harry's face. There was an almost hungry look in them. "It's very boring, having to listen to the silly little troubles of an eleven-year-old girl," he went on. "But I was patient. I wrote back. I was sympathetic, I was kind. Ginny simply loved me. No one's ever understood me like you, Tom... I'm so glad I've got this diary to confide in.... It's like having a friend I can carry around in my pocket...." Riddle laughed, a high, cold laugh that didn't suit him. It made the hairs stand up on the back of Harry's neck. "If I say it myself, Harry, I've always been able to charm the people I needed. So Ginny poured out her soul to me, and her soul happened to be exactly what I wanted.... I grew stronger and stronger on a diet of her deepest fears, her darkest secrets. I grew powerful, more powerful than little Miss Weasley. Powerful enough to start feeding Miss Weasley a few of my secrets, to start pouring a little of my soul into her..." "What d'you mean?" said Harry, whose mouth had gone dry. "Haven't you guessed yet, Harry Potter?" said Riddle softly. "Ginny Weasley opened the Chamber of Secrets. She strangled the school roosters and daubed threatening messages on the walls. She set the Serpent of Slytherin on four Mudbloods, and the Squib's cat." "No," Harry whispered. "Yes," said Riddle, calmly. "Of course, she didn't know what she was doing at first. It was very amusing. I wish you could have seen her new diary entries... far more interesting, they became... Dear Tom," he recited, watching Harry's horrified face, "I think I'm losing my memory. There are rooster feathers all over my robes and I don't know how they got there. Dear Tom, I can't remember what I did on the night of Halloween, but a cat was attacked and I've got paint all down my front. Dear Tom, Percy keeps telling me I'm pale and I'm not myself. I think he suspects me.... There was another attack today and I don't know where I was. Tom, what am I going to do? I think I'm going mad.... I think I'm the one attacking everyone, Tom!

I have many questions for you, Harry Potter." "Like what?" Harry spat, fists still clenched. "Well," said Riddle, smiling pleasantly, "how is it that you- a skinny boy with no extraordinary magical talent- managed to defeat the greatest wizard of all time? How did you escape with nothing but a scar, while Lord Voldemort's powers were destroyed?" There was an odd red gleam in his hungry eyes now. "Why do you care how I escaped?" said Harry slowly. "Voldemort was after your time...." "Voldemort," said Riddle softly, "is my past, present, and future, Harry Potter...." He pulled Harry's wand from his pocket and began to trace it through the air, writing three shimmering words: TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE Then he waved the wand once, and the letters of his name rearranged themselves: I AM LORD VOLDEMORT "You see?" he whispered. "It was a name I was already using at Hogwarts, to my most intimate friends only, of course. You think I was going to use my filthy Muggle father's name forever? I, in whose veins runs the blood of Salazar Slytherin himself, through my mother's side? I, keep the name of a foul, common Muggle, who abandoned me even before I was born, just because he found out his wife was a witch? No, Harry- I fashioned myself a new name, a name I knew wizards everywhere would one day fear to speak, when I had become the greatest sorcerer in the world!

Riddle said I'm like him. Strange likenesses, he said...." "Did he now?" said Dumbledore, looking thoughtfully at Harry from under his thick silver eyebrows. "And what do you think, Harry?" "I don't think I'm like him!" said Harry, more loudly than he'd intended. "I mean, I'm- I'm in Gryffindor, I'm..." But he fell silent, a lurking doubt resurfacing in his mind. "Professor," he started again after a moment. "The Sorting Hat told me I'd- I'd have done well in Slytherin. Everyone thought I was Slytherin's heir for a while... because I can speak Parseltongue...." "You can speak Parseltongue, Harry," said Dumbledore calmly, "because Lord Voldemort- who is the last remaining ancestor of Salazar Slytherin- can speak Parseltongue. Unless I'm much mistaken, he transferred some of his own powers to you the night he gave you that scar. Not something he intended to do, I'm sure..." "Voldemort put a bit of himself in me?" Harry said, thunderstruck. "It certainly seems so." "So I should be in Slytherin," Harry said, looking desperately into Dumbledore's face. "The Sorting Hat could see Slytherin's power in me, and it-" "Put you in Gryffindor," said Dumbledore calmly. "Listen to me, Harry. You happen to have many qualities Salazar Slytherin prized in his hand-picked students. His own very rare gift, Parseltongue- resourcefulness- determination- a certain disregard for rules," he added his mustache quivering again. "Yet the Sorting Hat placed you in Gryffindor. You know why that was. Think." "It only put me in Gryffindor," said Harry in a defeated voice, "because I asked not to go in Slytherin...." "Exactly," said Dumbledore, beaming once more. "Which makes you very different from Tom Riddle. It is our choices, Harry, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities.

«Prima di tutto, Harry, voglio ringraziarti» disse Silente con occhi di nuovo brillanti. «Devi avermi dimostrato una vera lealtà, giù nella Camera. Soltanto quella può avere indotto Fawkes ad avvicinarsi a te». Accarezzò la fenice, che gli si era accovacciata sulle ginocchia. Harry sorrise imbarazzato mentre Silente lo guardava. «E così hai conosciuto Tom Riddle» disse Silente pensieroso. «Immagino che fosse molto interessato a te...» Tutt’a un tratto, la cosa che tormentava Harry gli uscì di getto dalle labbra. «Professor Silente... Riddle ha detto che io sono come lui. Strane somiglianze, ha detto...» «Ah sì? Ma davvero?» chiese Silente guardando pensieroso il ragazzo da sotto le folte sopracciglia d’argento. «E tu che ne pensi, Harry?» «Io non credo di essere come lui!» disse Harry con voce più acuta di quanto avesse voluto. «Voglio dire, io sono... io appartengo a Grifondoro, io sono...» Ma poi tacque, perché un dubbio gli si era riaffacciato alla mente. «Professore» riprese di nuovo dopo un istante. «Il Cappello Parlante mi disse che io... che... sarei stato bene fra i Serpeverde. Per un po’ tutti hanno pensato che fossi io l’erede di Serpeverde... perché parlo il Serpentese...» «Harry, tu parli il Serpentese» disse calmo Silente, «perché Voldemort – che è l’ultimo discendente rimasto di Salazar Serpeverde – parla il Serpentese. A meno che io non mi sbagli di grosso, la notte in cui ti ha lasciato quella cicatrice ti ha trasmesso alcuni dei suoi poteri. Anche se di certo non ne aveva intenzione...» «Voldemort ha messo un pezzetto di sé dentro di me?» chiese Harry trasecolato. «Si direbbe proprio di sì». «Allora è vero che dovrei stare con i Serpeverde!» disse Harry guardando disperato Silente. «Il Cappello Parlante ha visto in me il potere di Serpeverde e...» «Ti ha assegnato a Grifondoro» disse Silente sempre calmo. «Ascoltami bene, Harry. Si dà il caso che tu abbia molte qualità che Salazar Serpeverde apprezzava nei suoi alunni, che selezionava accuratamente. Il dono molto raro del Serpentese... intraprendenza... determinazione... un certo disprezzo per le regole» soggiunse, e ancora una volta i suoi baffi vibrarono. «E tuttavia, il Cappello Parlante ti ha assegnato a Grifondoro. Tu sai perché. Pensaci». «Lo ha fatto» disse Harry con la delusione nella voce, «perché gli ho chiesto io di non andare fra i Serpeverde...» «Appunto» disse Silente ancora una volta tutto raggiante. «Il che ti rende assai diverso da Tom Riddle. Sono le scelte che facciamo, Harry, che dimostrano quel che siamo veramente, molto più delle nostre capacità». Harry sedeva immobile, esterrefatto. «Se vuoi una prova che appartieni a Grifondoro, ti consiglio di dare un’occhiata più da vicino a questa». Così dicendo, si avvicinò alla scrivania della McGonagall, prese la spada d’argento macchiata di sangue e gliela porse. Come inebetito, Harry la rivoltò; i rubini mandavano bagliori luminosi alla luce del fuoco. Fu allora che vide il nome inciso proprio sotto l’elsa. Godric Grifondoro. «Soltanto un vero Grifondoro avrebbe potuto estrarla dal cappello, Harry» disse semplicemente Silente.

It only put me in Gryffindor,’ said Harry in a defeated voice, ‘because I asked not to go in Slytherin …’ ‘Exactly,’ said Dumbledore, beaming once more. ‘Which makes you very different from Tom Riddle.

Voldemort,” said Riddle softly, “is my past, present, and future, Harry Potter. . . .” He pulled Harry’s wand from his pocket and began to trace it through the air, writing three shimmering words: TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE Then he waved the wand once, and the letters of his name rearranged themselves: I AM LORD VOLDEMORT

makes you very different from Tom Riddle. It is our choices, Harry, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities.