Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets By J. K. Rowling chapter one the Worst Birthday

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!” 
Harry’s brain seemed to have jammed. He stared numbly at Riddle, at the orphaned boy who had 
grown up to murder Harry’s own parents, and so many others… At last he forced himself to 
speak. 
“You’re not,” he said, his quiet voice full of hatred. 
“Not what?” snapped Riddle. 
“Not the greatest sorcerer in the world,” said Harry, breathing fast. “Sorry to disappoint you and 
all that, but the greatest wizard in the world is Albus Dumbledore. Everyone says so. Even when 
you were strong, you didn’t dare try and take over at Hogwarts. Dumbledore saw through you 
when you were at school and he still frightens you now, wherever you’re hiding these days —” 
The smile had gone from Riddle’s face, to be replaced by a very ugly look. 
“Dumbledore’s been driven out of this castle by the mere memory of me!” he hissed. 
“He’s not as gone as you might think!” Harry retorted. He was speaking at random, wanting to 
scare Riddle, wishing rather than believing it to be true. 
Riddle opened his mouth, but froze. 
Music was coming from somewhere. Riddle whirled around to stare down the empty Chamber. 
The music was growing louder. It was eerie, spine-tingling, unearthly; it lifted the hair on 
Harry’s scalp and made his heart feel as though it was swelling to twice its normal size. Then, as 
the music reached such a pitch that Harry felt it vibrating inside his own ribs, flames erupted at 
the top of the nearest pillar. 
A crimson bird the size of a swan had appeared, piping its weird music to the vaulted ceiling. It 
had a glittering golden tail as long as a peacock’s and gleaming golden talons, which were 
gripping a ragged bundle. 

---

A second later, the bird was flying straight at Harry. It dropped the ragged thing it was carrying 
at his feet, then landed heavily on his shoulder. As it folded its great wings, Harry looked up and 
saw it had a long, sharp golden beak and a beady black eye. 
The bird stopped singing. It sat still and warm next to Harry’s cheek, gazing steadily at Riddle. 
“That’s a phoenix.” said Riddle, staring shrewdly back at it. 
“Fawkes?” Harry breathed, and he felt the bird’s golden claws squeeze his shoulder gently. 
“And that —” said Riddle, now eyeing the ragged thing that Fawkes had dropped, “that’s the old 
school Sorting Hat —” 
So it was. Patched, frayed, and dirty, the hat lay motionless at Harry’s feet. 
Riddle began to laugh again. He laughed so hard that the dark chamber rang with it, as though 
ten Riddles were laughing at once. 
“This is what Dumbledore sends his defender! A songbird and an old hat! Do you feel brave, 
Harry Potter? Do you feel safe now?” 
Harry didn’t answer. He might not see what use Fawkes or the Sorting Hat were, but he was no 
longer alone, and he waited for Riddle to stop laughing with his courage mounting. 
“To business, Harry,” said Riddle, still smiling broadly. “Twice — in your past, in my future — 
we have met. And twice I failed to kill you. How did you survive? Tell me everything. The 
longer you talk,” he added softly, “the longer you stay alive.” 
Harry was thinking fast, weighing his chances. Riddle had the wand. He, Harry, had Fawkes and 
the Sorting Hat, neither of which would be much good in a duel. It looked bad, all right… but the 
longer Riddle stood there, the more life was dwindling out of Ginny… and in the meantime, 
Harry noticed suddenly, Riddle’s outline was becoming clearer, more solid… If it had to be a 
fight between him and Riddle, better sooner than later. 
“No one knows why you lost your powers when you attacked me,” said Harry abruptly. “I don’t 
know myself. But I know why you couldn’t kill me. Because my mother died to save me. My 
common Muggle-born mother,” he added, shaking with suppressed rage. “She stopped you 
killing me. And I’ve seen the real you, I saw you last year. You’re a wreck. You’re barely alive. 
That’s where all your power got you. You’re in hiding. You’re ugly, you’re foul —” 
Riddle’s face contorted. Then he forced it into an awful smile. “So. Your mother died to save 
you. Yes, that’s a powerful countercharm. I can see now… there is nothing special about you, 
after all. I wondered, you see. There are strange likenesses between us, after all. Even you must 
have noticed. Both half-bloods, orphans, raised by Muggles. Probably the only two Parselmouths 
to come to Hogwarts since the great Slytherin himself. We even look something alike… but after 
all, it was merely a lucky chance that saved you from me. That’s all I wanted to know.” 

---

Harry stood, tense, waiting for Riddle to raise his wand. But Riddle’s twisted smile was 
widening again. 
“Now, Harry, I’m going to teach you a little lesson. Let’s match the powers of Lord Voldemort, 
Heir of Salazar Slytherin, against famous Harry Potter, and the best weapons Dumbledore can 
give him…” 
He cast an amused eye over Fawkes and the Sorting Hat, then walked away. Harry, fear 
spreading up his numb legs, watched Riddle stop between the high pillars and look up into the 
stone face of Slytherin, high above him in the half-darkness. Riddle opened his mouth wide and 
hissed — but Harry understood what he was saying…
“Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four.” 
Harry wheeled around to look up at the statue, Fawkes swaying on his shoulder. 
Slytherin’s gigantic stone face was moving. Horrorstruck, Harry saw his mouth opening, wider 
and wider, to make a huge black hole. 
And something was stirring inside the statue’s mouth. Something was slithering up from its 
depths. 
Harry backed away until he hit the dark Chamber wall, and as he shut his eyes tight he felt 
Fawkes’ wing sweep his cheek as he took flight. Harry wanted to shout, “Don’t leave me!” but 
what chance did a phoenix have against the king of serpents? 
Something huge hit the stone floor of the Chamber. Harry felt it shudder — he knew what was 
happening, he could sense it, could almost see the giant serpent uncoiling itself from Slytherin’s 
mouth. Then he heard Riddle’s hissing voice: 
“Kill him.” 
The basilisk was moving toward Harry; he could hear its heavy body slithering heavily across 
the dusty floor. Eyes still tightly shut, Harry began to run blindly sideways, his hands 
outstretched, feeling his way — Voldemort was laughing. 
Harry tripped. He fell hard onto the stone and tasted blood the serpent was barely feet from him, 
he could hear it coming. 
There was a loud, explosive spitting sound right above him, and then something heavy hit Harry 
so hard that he was smashed into the wall. Waiting for fangs to sink through his body he heard 
more mad hissing, something thrashing wildly off the pillars. 
He couldn’t help it — he opened his eyes wide enough to squint at what was going on. 
The enormous serpent, bright, poisonous green, thick as an oak trunk, had raised itself high in the 

---

air and its great blunt head was weaving drunkenly between the pillars. As Harry trembled, ready 
to close his eyes if it turned, he saw what had distracted the snake. 
Fawkes was soaring around its head, and the basilisk was snapping furiously at him with fangs 
long and thin as sabers Fawkes dived. His long golden beak sank out of sight and a sudden 
shower of dark blood spattered the floor. The snake’s tail thrashed, narrowly missing Harry, and 
before Harry could shut his eyes, it turned — Harry looked straight into its face and saw that its 
eyes, both its great, bulbous yellow eyes, had been punctured by the phoenix; blood was 
streaming to the floor, and the snake was spitting in agony. 
“NO!” Harry heard Riddle screaming. “LEAVE THE BIRD! LEAVE THE BIRD! THE BOY IS 
BEHIND YOU. YOU CAN STILL SMELL HIM. KILL HIM!” 
The blinded serpent swayed, confused, still deadly. Fawkes was circling its head, piping his eerie 
song, jabbing here and there at its scaly nose as the blood poured from its ruined eyes. 
“Help me, help me,” Harry muttered wildly, “someone — anyone…” 
The snake’s tail whipped across the floor again. Harry ducked. Something soft hit his face. 
The basilisk had swept the Sorting Hat into Harry’s arms. Harry seized it. It was all he had left, 
his only chance — he rammed it onto his head and threw himself flat onto the floor as the 
basilisk’s tail swung over him again.