A Hogwarts Legend: Round Two [2]

Chapter Twenty Three

Sticking my tongue out at him, I start stuffing stuff back in his bag.

"Off you go, off you go, the bell rang five minutes ago, off to class, now," Percy says, shooing some of the younger students away. "And you, Malfoy."

I glance over at Malfoy to see him stoop down and snatch up something. Leering, he shows it to Crabbe and Goyle, and I realise he's got Riddle's diary.

"Give that back," says Harry quietly.

"Wonder what's Potter written in this?" says Malfoy, who obviously hasn't noticed the year on the cover, and thinks he has Harry's own diary. A hush falls over the onlookers. Ginny is staring from the diary to Harry, looking terrified.

"Hand it over, Malfoy," says Percy sternly.

"When I've had a look," says Malfoy, waving the diary tauntingly at Harry.

Percy says,"As a school Prefect -", but I've had enough. I pull out my wand and shout, "Expelliarmus!" and the diary shoots out of Malfoy's hand into the air. Ron, grinning broadly, catches it.

"Emily!" says Percy loudly. "No magic in the corridors. I'll have to report this, you know!"

"Well, if your reporting me already," I wave my wand and mutter a spell, fixing Harry's bag.

Malfoy is looking furious, and as Ginny passed him to enter her classroom, he yells spitefully after her, "I don't think Potter liked your Valentine much!"

Ginny covers her face with her hands and runs into class. Snarling, Ron pulls out his wand, but I pull him away. Ron doesn't need to spend the whole of Charms belching slugs.

It isn't until we reach Professor Flitwick's class that I notice something off about Riddle's diary. All Harry's other books are drenched in scarlet ink. The diary, however, is as clean as it had been before the ink bottle had smashed all over it. I point this out to Harry, who looks just as confused as I feel.

*

Harry and I are alone in the common room, examining Riddle's diary.

The other's think we're obsessing and it's stupid ....

Well guess what, they're stupid. Hah, take that.

No, not the band....

We sit by the fire, flicking through the blank pages, not one of which have a trace of scarlet ink on it. I pull out a bottle of ink from my bag, dip my quill into it, and drop a blot onto the first page of the diary.

The ink shines brightly on the paper for a second and then, as though it's been sucked into the page, it vanishes. Grinning, I load up my quill for a second time and write, "My name is Emily Swift," as Harry writes next to me, "My name is Harry Potter."

The words shine momentarily on the page and they too sink without a trace. Then, at last, something happens.

Oozing back out of the page, in our very own ink, come words neither of us wrote.

"Hello, Harry Potter and Emily Swift. My name is Tom Riddle. How did you come by my diary?"

These words, too, fade away, but not before Harry starts to scribble back.