The Girl Who Hid | ✓

|13| Riddle's Diary

Out of the four of us, I was the only one to go home for Christmas Holiday; Harry, Ron, and Hermione stayed at Hogwarts.

Back at home, I didn't tell Lying anything about the Parselmouth situation from a few weeks ago. The usual million of questions came and went, along with the long days without my friends. He sent me back a day earlier than I was supposed to because he didn't like the fact I was locked up in my room all week.

When I arrived at Hogwarts, I found out about the completely backfired Polyjuice Plan the three of them had. To save my and Harry's reputation of not being heirs to Slytherin, the three of them decided to find out if Draco was, or knew who was, the heir. Harry and Ron transformed into Crabbe and Goyle, while Hermione was supposed to turn into Millicent Bulstrode, but ended up being a half-cat half-person thing.

Hermione remained in the hospital wing for several weeks. There was a flurry of rumor about her disappearance when the rest of the school arrived back from their Christmas holidays, because of course everyone thought that she had been attacked. So many students filed past the hospital wing trying to catch a glimpse of her that Madam Pomfrey took out her curtains again and placed them around Hermione's bed to spare her the shame of being seen with a furry face.

Harry, Ron, and I went to visit her every evening. When the new term started, we brought her each day's homework.

"If I'd sprouted whiskers, I'd take a break from work," said Ron, tipping a stack of books onto Hermione's bedside table one evening.

"Don't be silly, Ron, I've got to keep up," said Hermione briskly. Her spirits were greatly improved by the fact that all the hair had gone from her face and her eyes were turning slowly back to brown. "I don't suppose you've got any new leads?" she added in a whisper, so that Madam Pomfrey couldn't hear her.

"Nothing," I breathed.

"I was so sure it was Malfoy," said Ron, for about the hundredth time.

"What's that?" asked Harry, pointing to something gold sticking out from under Hermione's pillow.

"Just a get well card," said Hermione hastily, trying to poke it out of sight, but Ron was too quick for her. He pulled it out, flicked it open, and read 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 Defense League, and five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award.' "

Ron looked up at Hermione, disgusted. "You sleep with this under your pillow?"

But Hermione was spared answering by Madam Pomfrey sweeping over with her evening dose of medicine.

Harry, Ron, and I left the Hosptial wing to let Hermione get her rest. As we walked down the corridor, we stopped as we heard a loud sobbing coming from the Out Of Order girls' bathroom. Per usual, we ignored all signs of warning and entered anyways.

Moaning Myrtle was crying, if possible, louder and harder than ever before. She seemed to be hiding down her usual toilet. It was dark in the bathroom because the candles had been extinguished in the great rush of water that had left both walls and floor soaking wet.

"What's up, Myrtle?" said Harry.

"Who's that?" glugged Myrtle miserably. "Come to throw something else at me?"

Harry waded across to her stall and said, "Why would I throw something at you?"

"Don't ask me," Myrtle shouted, emerging with a wave of yet more water, which splashed onto the already sopping floor. "Here I am, minding my own business, and someone thinks it's funny to throw a book at me..."