Invisible String | TVD x WIZARDING WORLD

MY NAME IS TOM AND I'M REALLY GLAD TO MEET YOU

"Where the hell do you think you're going, huh?" I caught up to Harry, breathless, nearly tripping over a root as I reached him. He didn't stop. Of course he didn't. The idiot was charging straight into the Forbidden Forest like it was the bloody Great Hall and not, you know, a murder maze of spiders, curses, and everything that goes bump in the night.

"You do realise you're a half-blood, right?" I said between pants, my voice sharper than I intended. "That's basically a flashing 'please eat me' sign out here."

"I'll be okay. Go back." His voice was too calm. That kind of calm that only ever means trouble's about to hit like a Bludger to the face.

"Yeah, like hell I'm leaving," I shot back, pushing a branch out of my way and falling into step beside him. "What, you thought you'd get to do the dramatic self-sacrifice thing again without me around to make fun of you for it?"

He glanced at me, eyes dark under the moonlight, something unreadable flickering across his face. Regret, maybe. Or resolve. Or that special brand of Gryffindor guilt he liked to carry around like a second wand.

"You shouldn't be here."

"And yet—here I am," I said, gesturing around us. "Annoying, loud, and extremely ready to fight a tree if it looks at me wrong."

He huffed something between a sigh and a laugh. "This isn't a joke."

"No, it's not," I agreed quietly. "But neither is you dying. So unless you've got a good reason—and I mean a really good one—I'm not going anywhere. You're stuck with me."

We walked in silence for a few steps, our boots crunching over damp leaves, the trees whispering things I didn't want to hear. I didn't ask where we were going. He didn't tell me. But I knew one thing for certain: if he was about to walk into darkness, I wasn't letting him do it alone.

"Found this diary... and, well, something's strange," Harry muttered, twirling the worn book in his hand like it was no big deal and not a possible conduit for dark magic. You know. Just Tuesday things.

"You do realise reading people's journals is bad, right?" I raised an eyebrow, smirking.

"Can't say I haven't read yours," he shot back with a grin.

"Tosser," I muttered, shaking my head. "Alright then, what's strange about it?"

"Tom Riddle," Harry said quietly.

Oh. Voldy baby.

Narcissa never said the name Voldemort out loud. No one really did, not in the wizarding world—not unless they had a death wish. Except me and Harry, of course. But she had once mentioned the name Tom Riddle. I don't think she realised how much that name would matter.

"What about it?" I asked, trying to keep my voice neutral. I didn't know if I should tell him. That Tom Riddle was Voldemort. He'd already been acting strange lately—withdrawn, intense. This might just break him.

"There are things he knows," Harry said slowly, his eyes not leaving the diary. "The diary... talks back. I kinda... chatted with Tom last night."

"You what?!" I nearly shrieked. "What the hell is wrong with you, Harry?! You are not meant to poke your nose into every cursed object you find! Sees a writing-back diary and thinks—what? Let's have a pen pal moment?! Absolute idiot!"

"Okay, okay, I get it!" He held his hands up defensively. "But come on—curiosity, right?"

"Yuck. Curiosity," I said flatly. "Look where that got the cat."

"What, dead?" he offered, far too casually.

"Exactly," I snapped. "Now what did this charming little dark diary say to you?"