Disclaimer: The problem with knowledge is that it doesn't tell you what to do with it. Oh, and I do not own Harry Potter. See, I have no idea why this disclaimer is even important.

'The thing is...I'm no Anne Frank.'

Tom Riddle was confused. When some soon-to-be victim started writing in his diary, he expected a name or an exciting or morose event of someone's day that he'd pretend to care about so as to manipulate the said person. The last thing he was expecting was the name of a muggle girl who – if his memory served him right – did become quite famous in his time.

But he waited and waited and waited...seriously? That's all the kid had to write? He had been waiting for some days now, going on a week, and the person didn't write in his diary again. He didn't even get to show his brilliant charm work of sucking in the ink and writing his words back.

Nearly two weeks later – not that Tom knew precisely how many days it had been as he is but a diary and he had no sense of time or date – the person wrote again and Tom's imaginary body shook with anticipation.

'Of course I led a shitty life in a cupboard and now living a shitty life in a small bedroom but this no Nazi Germany and I'm no girl. The worst thing I have to fear here is a man-sized whale, a female-looking giraffe and the result of their marriage, a little pig.'

Tom was so flabbergasted that he didn't even write anything back before the boy closed the diary again. In which zoo keeper's hands did he fall in? What happened to the world? Is it a world-wide human transfiguration gone wrong or did he finally conquer wizarding Britain and got so tired of these imbeciles that he turned everyone into animals? The latter thought was seeming more and more plausible by the second.

The next few days were torture for one Tom Riddle. The boy sure took his sweet time to write and when he did, he had the annoying habit of giving one-liners and disappearing. This had all the signs of a bad western movie. He knew their stupidity would one day cross the oceans and plague the British isles.

'So what I'm saying is, I don't have a lot to write about my life, except that I killed my DADA professor to save the philosophers stone from falling into the hands of evil overlord Voldemort, who was stuck on the back of the head of the professor. Bye.'

If Tom had an actual body, his chin would be touching the ground, his eyes rolling out their sockets and he would've gone bald. Remove the nose and you would have future Voldemort. It's a good thing that he's just a simple diary and hence had no body.

Once again, he didn't get the chance to write back.

It all started a few weeks back, when Harry was buying books at he-forgot-the-store-name-but-he-was-sure-it-rhymes. It was not a good day. Some glittery-robed mannequin with flash lights for teeth and silk threads for hair had just tried to molest him and people actually started clapping from the sidelines – Later he learned that the mannequin's name is Gilderoy Lockhart and he's going to be the DADA professor at Hogwarts. Harry lamented over the fact that he not only had to protect his life but also his virginity from the DADA professor this year. No wonder half the student population are perverts if this is what goes for acceptable behavior with children.

He stepped out of the bookstore he still couldn't remember the name of and was greeted to the sight of two grown men wrestling in the street. Harry bet a galleon on Mr. Weasley to win, if only because Mrs. Weasely was blatantly cheating by trying to burst the eardrums of the opponent with her shouting. The tactic was working too, judging by the stream of blood leaking out of the Lucius's ears.

But then Hagrid entered the match and handily defeated the two men by lifting them into the air and throwing them apart. Harry cursed. He should've known that Hagrid will always win a fist fight, even if the giant is not the contestant. That's a galleon he wasn't getting back.

Dejected he walked over to the Weasely family and patted Mr. Weasley on the shoulder with a solemn nod. "There's always a next time. We'll win my galleon back."

The red-haired man frowned in confusion, obviously not understanding what Harry said because he went deaf from his wife's constant yapping. Harry shook his head in pity and went to stand beside the youngest Weasley girl. At least he believed she was the youngest. With how fast the Weasleys breed, there's probably another little kid running around here somewhere.

Lucius Malfoy limped over to them, looking for all purposes like a man who couldn't accept his defeat. Even Harry agreed that the participation of Hagrid was unfair. "Here girl – take your book – this is the best your father can give you..."

Ginny flushed in embarrassment and being the hero he was, Harry came to her rescue. "Hey! No bad-mouthing after the match. If you have any differences, sort it out in the ring."

The blond-haired man frowned in confusion, once again obviously because the plump, red-haired woman had burst the man's eardrums. Harry snatched the transfiguration book out of Lucius's hands and led Ginny away from the crowd. The fighting ring is no place for a little girl. He took out his own first-year transfiguration book out of his bag and gave it to Ginny. He thought of selling his first-year books for a few galleons but his is a bleeding heart and his kindness is immeasurable. "Here you can keep mine. Good as new and never opened it in my life."

Hermione, who was eavesdropping from the sidelines – as was her job. Due to her incessant curiosity, she was spy of their little trio and even she didn't know that. She couldn't help poking her nose into things and he directed that nose away from his things – scrunched up her nose in distaste at his statement. "Harry Potter! How can you not read it even once in your whole year?!"

Ah, the adulation of the masses. That's probably the most amazing thing Hermione heard in her life. Sometimes he astounded himself with his brilliance. "Hermione, I heard that Lockhart guy is giving spoilers for his next book."

Hermione couldn't have disappeared faster if she apparated. See...can't help her curiosity at all.

Now what to do with this transfiguration book? Meh, he'll probably have to open it at least once to see what they have in there. Who knows it could even help with his next year. He smothered a snicker. As if.

He opened the book after reaching the burrow to find a blank diary instead and promptly concluded that this universe didn't want him to ever read his textbooks.

'Dear Diary'

Finally, Tom thought, the boy is writing a diary as it should be written. He waited for the words to flow and within a few minutes, have the means to control the boy. Then the boy tore away the page and threw it into the dustbin.

Tom Riddle raged so hard it was a wonder the book didn't set itself on fire.

The next day, the boy wrote, 'Today, I'm going to Hogwarts.'

A Hogwarts student then, Tom mused. Teenage students, with their abundance of hormones and drama-filled idiocy, are so easy to manipulate. His to-be host is a tough cookie to crack – curse the muggles and their stupid idioms. He meant, his to-be host is a tough Bernie Bott's Every Flavor bean to swallow. But Tom is famous for his patience – except when it came to death eaters, half-bloods, mudbloods, muggles, animals, birds and inanimate objects – and he would have the last laugh even if its after a few decades because of how lazy the boy is at writing in his diary.

An hour later, the boy wrote again. 'I missed the train.'

In his abject fury, Tom lost his usual charisma and wrote back with all the frustration of the past few weeks laced into his words. 'YOU HAD ONE JOB TO DO! How are you allowed to go to school if you're so damn stupid?!'

Harry was affronted when he read what the diary wrote back to him. He was already freaking out and he didn't need his diary belittling him at the moment. Huffing, he opened the window of the flying car and threw it out. Good riddance.

Only when the diary was halfway to destination fucked did he realize that the diary talked back to him. Eh, he could buy another one from that bookstore he still couldn't remember the name of. It's not like talking diaries are that rare in the wizarding world, right?

Tom realized that something was wrong he felt harsh winds hitting his face...er, pages instead of sharp quills and cold ink. At least where ever he was going couldn't be worse than it was with the boy.

Hedwig, who was loyally flying behind the car, noticed the book falling out of the window and took a dive worthy of profession quidditch and snatched it with its talons like a pro seeker. She preened in air for a few moments for a catch so wondrous that it'd go into the annals of owl history. Owl religion would glorify her name for centuries.

She reached the Owlery an hour later, with the book still clutched between its talons and landed on the window sill. She placed the book on the stone and flipped the cover with its beak.

Tom Riddle felt that someone was about to do something monumentally stupid when his diary was opened. He waited with sweaty palms...er, pages for that first blot of ink to touch the page. Already, megalomaniac plans were spinning in his mind faster than a tornado. When he's resurrected, he'd kill Lucius first for handing his diary to the worst idiot on earth and then find the boy and inflict the kid to a torture tenfold than what he was subjected to. Then he's going to buy a flying car and throw the boy's corpse from the window.

All the plans flew out of the said window when he felt a beak touch the page instead of a quill. Then someone started repeatedly poking the pages with beaks and his patience snapped.

Hedwig was minding her own business, ruffling her feathers and poking at her newfound book when a barn own landed in front of her. As was with owls, they can't take competition and can't mind their own damn business and the barn owl started poking the book too. Other owls noticed this and even they entered the field to take on the book. It was a bloody violent competition and partly explained why there are so few species of owls. In this game, there are no winners and only survivors.

Then the book started to fight back with a huge, 'STOP IT THIS INSTANT!'

It was a bold move – no pun intended.

The owls accepted this challenge with their own brand of fierceness and sharp talons were added to the mix.

One week into the school year and Harry realized that he missed his diary. It was a bad-mouthing, bland-looking, boringly-empty piece of crap but writing in the book – though only on occasion – felt oddly cathartic. So he made his way to the Owlery to owl order a new talking diary from the bookstore he-really-need-to-ask-Hermione-what-its-name-is.

"Hedwig, you know that bookstore right?" Harry asked his snowy owl, hoping to Merlin that she did because he sure as hell didn't. "I want to buy a diary, a talking one preferably."

Hedwig, possessing an intelligence that could make Minister Fudge cry in shame, bobbed her head and flew back to the window sill. She clutched the badly-mutilated diary in her talons and dropped it in Harry's hands, who could only gape in wonder. Did they hide an inter-dimensional book-trading portal in the Owlery because he was certain even Dumbledore can't do it so fast. "Wizards do take customer service to a whole another level."

He opened the pristine diary to find the pages torn, ripped, cleaved, shredded, and absolutely demolished. He blinked and closed the book again to find the cover looking as fresh as his giraffe aunt's lawn. He didn't know what or how but he was certain that magic was at play.

Just to make sure of its resilience, he lit up the diary on fire with a powerful Incendio and then threw it from the window of the Owlery, which was on the seventh floor. Then he dumped it into the Black lake and waited on the shore until the giant squid returned it to him after an hour. He might have even loaned it to the Weasely twins to use it a bludger for Quidditch practice and just to be really, really sure, he might have tried every offensive spell he knew on it. But the important thing was that the cover of the diary was indestructible and he found a good target practice for his spells.

But who would place unbreakable charm on the cover and not on the pages? Ah, if there was an unbreakable charm on the pages then he can't rip them every single time he wrote something stupid...right. That made sense.

Feeling happy that all was right with the world again, he ripped away all the shredded pages until the book was filled with only the good pages and half its original size. But, it wasn't like he wrote in it daily. It'd serve him his whole life if he wrote sparingly, which was exactly what he had been doing.

Author's Note: It should come as no surprise that my revival is accompanied by a new story.

I thought of writing a simple one-shot with this plot but now I'm not so sure. This one has potential to become a humorous – if not good – story. What do you think? Should I keep it as a one-shot or goddammit write the next chapter already?

Now, I need to clarify some facts and fictions. I don't really think a horcrux makes every part of its container unbreakable. Then Harry damn well should have had an Achilles' curse with that horcrux in his head. Or maybe it applies only to inanimate objects? But if you turn a locket into a horcrux, is the chain unbreakable too? If you make a book into a horcrux, will you be able to tear the pages? If anyone can, please explain this to me with a review or a PM. Thank you in advance.

For this story's sake, I am assuming that you can indeed tear the pages out of that diary. It's a small plot peeve that I felt the need to address. If you're not concerned with this, excellent.

Harry is a grumpy kid in this one and he has every right to be. There, I said it. The characterizations and further pairings will be explained if I decide to write the next chapter based on the response to this story.

The Closer You Look will be updated on the same day, next week.

Until then, don't kill me if you want updates. I know my update schedule is more fucked up than climate change debate, and I am trying my best to post regular updates from now. One or two chapters every week. Sounds fun, right?