Harry Potter's Pen Pal

Prologue

 "Break it up, gents, break it up."

Harry turned to see Hagrid pushing his way through the crowd. He forcefully pulled Mr. Weasley and Mr. Malfoy apart.

Mr. Weasley scowled and adjusted his robes, while his wife fumed silently. Mr. Malfoy glared right back.

Harry was a bit confused. He didn't understand a few things. One, why had Mr. Weasley attacked Mr. Malfoy with his fists when he had a wand in arm's reach? Two, why had Mr. Malfoy riled up Mr. Weasley when they were in public? Did he want Mr. Weasley to attack him? Three, why did Hagrid not notice that he was choking Mr. Malfoy with his robes, he was making noises that clearly meant he couldn't breathe-?!

Mr. Malfoy managed to pull himself out of Hagrid's grip with a scowl, gasping and massaging his throat. He shoved Harry's Break With a Banshee at him and growled, "Draco, we're leaving."

Harry took the book and said quietly, "Thank you, sir."

Mr. Malfoy gave him a startled look before grabbing Draco's shoulder and marching off, dragging his son with him.

When Harry went to put his book back in his bag, he frowned. It was a bit thicker and heavier than usual. He shrugged, dismissing it as his imagination, and put it away.

"A fine example to set for your children!" Mrs. Weasley snarled at her husband. "Brawling in public! What Gilderoy Lockhart must have thought...!"

Harry frowned. Wasn't Mr. Weasley her husband? Why didn't she care more about him? His lip was bleeding and his face was covered in bruises, and all she cared about was what Gilderoy Lockhart thought.

Adults were confusing.

----------------

Later that day, after dinner, Harry decided to reorganize his books. He pulled them out of his trunk and began putting them in small piles.

Ron burst into the room just as Harry had finished, shouting, "Did you see Dad today? How he just jumped at Malfoy's dad? That was amazing!"

As he barged in, he knocked over the pile of Herbology and History, and, like dominos, that knocked over all the other piles. Harry sighed.

"Ron, could you please not shout?" Harry asked softly, rubbing his head as he started organizing again.

"I wasn't shouting," Ron said indignantly, in a slightly quieter voice, but it was still rather loud for Harry's sensitive ears. "What are you doing, anyway?"

"Organizing my books, so I can find them easier," Harry responded calmly. "I don't know about you, but I would rather not get on Professor Snape's bad side this year."

Ron snorted. "Good luck. He hates you no matter what you do." He started bouncing on his bed, babbling loudly about school.

Harry had just finished organizing his books when he frowned. He had one extra book. Had he counted wrong? He went through the books again, carefully, and found a small, blank, black book.

Harry frowned further. He was sure he hadn't purchased this, and it certainly didn't belong to the Weasleys; it was clearly well-cared for, it was also very old, and Harry had never seen it before. Maybe it had fallen into his bag...?

He opened it carefully to the first page. The only words on the page, written in Slytherin silver ink, were T. M. Riddle.

Riddle? Harry had no idea who that was.

After about two minutes, the only things Harry found out about Riddle was: either he never wrote in the diary, or he didn't trust anyone not to read his diary, so he hid whatever he wrote.