The Potter Twins and the Chamber of Secrets {2}

18. The Diary is Found *

"There's a ghost in my bedroom, it haunts me at night, I ask it to leave but it keeps stopping by" ~ Ghosts, Mayday Parade

Several weeks have passed since we used the Polyjuice Potion; Hermione is still in the hospital wing, people still think we're the Heirs of Slytherin and Tay was absolutely thrilled to learn that her precious Draco is innocent.

We visit Hermione every evening, and we bring her homework that she's missed out on.

"If I sported whiskers, I'd take a break from work," Ron says, as he tips a stack of books into Hermione's bedside table.

"Don't be silly, Ron, I've got to keep up," Hermione says briskly.

She's gotten much better within the last couple days; all the hair was gone from her face and her eyes are almost back to their normal colour.

"Any new leads?" She then whispers, so no one else can hear.
"Nothing," Harry says gloomily.

"I was so sure it was Malfoy," Ron says, for about the hundredth time.
"What's that?" Harry asks suddenly, and I see him pointing to something gold sticking out from under Hermione's pillow.

"Just a Get Well card," she says quickly, trying to poke it out of sight, but Ron is too quick for her, and he manages to pull it out.

He opens it and reads aloud:
"To Miss Granger, wishing you a speedy recovery, from your concerned teacher, Professor Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defence League and five time winner of Witch Weekly's Most-Charming-Smile Award."

Ron finishes and looks up from the note, disgusted.

"You sleep with this under your pillow?"

Lucky for Hermione, she's spared by Madam Pomfrey, who sweeps over her with her evening dose of medicine.

"Isn't Lockhart just the smarmiest bloke you've ever met, or what?" Ron says to Tay, Harry and I as we head up to Gryffindor Tower.

I open my mouth to answer, but I stop as an angry outburst from the floor above meets our ears.

"That's Filch," I mutter, as we hurry upstairs, listening hard.

"You don't think someone else's been attacked?" Tay asks tensely.

"...even more work for me! Mopping all night, like I haven't got enough to do! No, this is the final straw, I'm going to Dumbledore..."

We hear Filch yelling, before a loud door slam appears.

We poke our heads around the corner to see what Filch had been shouting about. A great flood of water is stretched over half the corridor, and it looks like it's coming from Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.

We can also hear Myrtle wailing from here...

"Now what's up with her?" Ron says.
"Let's go see," Harry says, as we all hold our robes over our ankles as we walk through the water to the door.

We enter to find Myrtle crying loud than ever before, which is saying something.

"What's up, Mrytle?" Harry asks.
"Who's that?" Mrytle gurgles miserably. "Come to throw something at me?"

We waddle through the water towards her and I speak up;
"Why would we throw something at you?"

"Don't ask me!" She shouts, emerging from her cubicle. "Here I am, just minding my own business, and someone thinks it's funny to throw a book at me..."

"But it can't hurt you it someone throws something at you," Tay says reasonably. "I mean, wouldn't it just fly straight though you?"

Myrtle puffs herself up and shrieks;
"Let's all throw books at Myrtle, because she can't feel it! Ten points if you get it through her stomach! Fifty points if it goes through her head! Well, ha ha ha! What I lovely game, I don't think!"

"Who threw it at you anyway?" Harry asks.

"I don't know...I was just sitting in the U-bend, thinking about death, and it feel right through the too of my head," Mrytle says, glaring at us. "It's over there, it for washed out."

I follow Myrtle's gaze to see a small, thin book, with a shabby black cover.

I step forward to pick it up, but Ron suddenly flings out an arm to hold me back.

"What?" I ask.
"Are you mad?" Ron exclaims.
"It could be dangerous," Tay adds.
"Dangerous?" Harry laughs.
"Come off it, how could it be dangerous?" I ask, also laughing.

"You'd be surprised," Ron says, who's looking apprehensively at the book. "Some of the books the Ministry confiscated - Dad's told me - there was one that burned your eyes out. And everyone who read Sonnets of a Sorcerer spoke in limericks for the rest of their lies. And some old witch in Bath had a book that you could never stop reading! You just had to wonder around with your nose in it, trying to do everything one-handed. And-"

"Alright, we've got the point," Harry says.

"Well, we won't find out unless we look at it," I say, before ducking under Ron's arm and grabbing the book from the floor.

Judging from the date on the front, the book is over fifty years old.

I open it eagerly, to see a name on the first page. 'T.M. Riddle' is written on the front in smudged ink.

Ron rushes forward and claims to recognise the name; "He got an award for special services to the school fifty years ago."

I peel the wet pages apart, to find them all completely blank.

"He never wrote in it," Harry says, disappointed.

I turn the book over to see a small printed name of a newsagents in Vauxhall Road, London.

"He must've been Muggle-born," I say throughtfully, "to have bought a dairy from Vauxhall Road..."

"Well, seeing as it's not much use to anyone," Tay says, dropping her voice. "Fifty points if you can get it through her nose."

Stifling a laugh, I pocket it within my robes

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:) this book is kinda-almost-not really finished (if that makes any sense) and then, of course, it's the Prisoner of Azkaban, which is where the things in my original storyline kinda begin :)