Disclaimer: I do not own any characters created by J. K. Rowling. I am not making any money, at all, from this story, and my cat and I may later deeply regret it but it is true. I am broke now and will still be broke after finishing this fanfiction.
Warning: This story will be rated M (Mature) for violence and sexual scenarios etc etc you know the drill if you are underage blah blah blah
So here is my very first fanfiction here on FF! Very excited and I hope you enjoy my writing. All reviews and critique are welcome and if you find any grammar or spellings or anything that seems odd to you - just let me know and I'll see what I can do.
I don't have a beta to review this for me before I post so there's bound to be some mistakes, no matter how careful I am.
The Little Black Book will be centered around Harry and his friends, and how they adjust to some major changes in the Wizarding world. Everything is seemingly canon until the end of OotP. You'll see what I mean as the chapters roll by. The main pairing is also Draco/Harry and I've put a lot of thought into how they will later come together. Can't wait! The first chapter may seem tedious to some as it was very hard for me to write. But I had to get the point across so that the plot will make sense without jumping out at you screaming: "HEY! I'm another predictable, jumbled story-line. Read on if you want to be bored." I really hope this isn't one of those.
The first chapter will be in first person POV and then change to a third person from then on out till the end of the story unless I say otherwise. Now! Let's read on...
Chapter 1: The Discovery
The reality of Muggles and Muggleborns had finally been unmasked. After the centuries and countless generations of prosecution and abuse and conspiracy- it was all here in this itty-bitty booklet. It seemed perfectly harmless really, this book. It was a journal. I did not know why it had been in the library or how it had gotten there, but it seemed to have been there for a very, very long time.
Dingy leather with a black silk ribbon to keep place. The spine was plain except for the countless creases over where it had been opened repeatedly and the cover, blank. It was a battered journal from years of use. Despite the appearance of being worn out, the layers and layers of dust-turned-grime showed that the small book had not been read, had not been even opened, for many years.
The first passage began with a quick preface. It read:
Qui ut legentes
dicam in plebe modo eu. Sp mei te super aliqua supplantari aliquid modicum, non commentarius. Est quod consideret veritatem scientiae, quidquid latet, quid sit intellectus negari vestros. Hoc posito quod adhuc alia non rectae inter magicas magicis mundi...
It continued in Latin for the rest of the page in slanted writing that was carefully written in ink.
I flipped through the other pages, but more seemed to take their place, every single one filled with the same, even lines of writing. The journal was enchanted to appear smaller! A thrill ran through me at the thought of such a book in my possession. If this was not in the Restricted Section like Headmaster Dippet had mentioned then of course it would be fine if I took it. With a quick glance down the aisle, I placed the journal in my satchel and left the library in a hurry.
After supper in the Great Hall and a match of wizards chess with Hornby, that seemed to drag on longer than usual, I eased back to the dormitories for the other second years. I was still not used to the brutal way the pieces attacked one another and always gave a slight jump every time they whacked a pawn over the head, much to the amusement of my schoolmates. It was still early in the evening and the other boys hoped to stay up as late as possible that Friday night, which suited me fine if I wanted to get any reading done before they crawled to bed at some ungodly hour.
A quick Silencio and Lumos later behind the cover of my bed's curtains, I pulled the journal from my bag and dusted it for good measure. I turned the cover to the yellowing pages, but with a small gasp I noticed that the writing before had changed. With trembling fingers I raced through part of the book and found that - yes! - the rest was in English as well.
With an even greater respect for all that was magic, I went back to page one and began to read.
To Whoever is reading this,
I shall say in plebeian manner: good job. This retelling of mine that you have tripped upon somehow is not some trivial diary. It is a Look into what is the truth, of knowledge, of what is hidden Under and what intellect has been denied of your generation. That is presuming there is still a distinct line between The non magic and magic world.
I am here before you to explain that all that you have been taught about the muggles is false. All that you have learned about the muggleborns is false.
If you were able to open my book then you are one of open mind and acceptance. The language will adjust to your own once it is given time to familiarize itself with you.
You are prohibited of telling anyone of what here lies and no one else shall be able to open. If one dares to pry their eyes too close my writing shall appear in a dialect not known to them.
Once reading on, you will not be able to go back. This knowledge is life changing to all within the cosmos and that which is circling the Sun. May Merlin Peverell rest your soul.
Good luck.
Salazar Slytherin
The already silent room became even more with an eerie feeling coursing through me. I read the passage several times over before the reality hit me. I was holding the very journal of Salazar Slytherin, one of the Four Founders of Hogwarts. And it had been hiding in that dusty, old library for anyone to claim. But it chose me.
I turned the page, and continued.
Salazar took me back, way back, all the way to the beginning of man and creation, itself. Mankind had been born with a gift granted by a force not known. The gift allowed them to create and to build, and civilization was formed in the new world. It allowed them to live for centuries at a time, heal seemingly fatal wounds, and live in a joyous life. It was called magic, and it was wondrous feeling, with it coursing through one's very veins. Like blood, one could only survive with their magic. But it only took one bad seed of thought to ruin it all.
Within the budding country of people that expanded from one coast, across the Land, to the next coast, existed a cult. They did not have a name, yet, known by the common folk, but wanted to form a government, a leader to lead the people. To control all was their purpose, and to gain immense power beyond the norm was a prize they felt was rightfully their own. Before the people of the Land knew what was happening, a man stood out amongst the rest and assured them a leader to bring them to greatness and prosperity even grander than the present.
Their government was formed.
It began with simple laws and rules to simply organize the public. Then came actually currency, and with a certain 'value' placed on food and material things needed to live corruption grew. Wickedness spread throughout the Land and finely punishment became necessary. It started off as simple fines, confiscation of property, imprisonment, and finally the ultimate penalty. For a crime that seemed unforgivable in the eyes of the government, one's magic was simply... taken for a lack of better words. Once the magic was sucked right out of the person after the painful process they would fall dead to the world.
When the knowledge of this practice came into the light to the public they roared and raged at the barbaric nature of taking a life in such a manner. Crime grew even more and whispers of revolution were spoken between the people. The mass tension finally exploded when along came a common thief who had been caught trying to steal from a member of the government.
He was immediately sentenced to have his magic taken. And they did.
But he survived. And thus the Muggle was created.
I had stopped reading here to collect my thoughts. Muggles were created? Obviously it had been a freak accident but the implication of it all seemed to make sense. I chuckled. No wonder wizards and witches were so superior. It was true. If it were not for witchcraft, for wizardry, they would not even exist. A sense of pride went through me. Of course it had occurred through less than favorable happenings, but it did not matter.
With the thin ribbon wedged in where I would continue next time, I stuck the book under my pillow and fell asleep with eager thoughts of magic and snakes and all that was truly magic.
My joy was cut short the following day.
Apparently, the government tried to keep everything hush-hush about the incident and got rid of the man through other means. More and more nonmagical people were made on other rare instances and few escaped before they were killed. The information was then leaked to the public and a revolt erupted between the government, and its allies, and the revolutionists. It was a struggle that lasted an amazing number of decades. But it was after a catastrophic storm that killed thousands in its wake when events took an about face. The flood that swept across the Land took with it many lives and left behind only a fraction of the previous population. Ironically, more than half were nonmagic.
With a vow to stop the violence to build a new world, the group learned to live together. Over time they replenished the world of its people and the Land as it was once known before, became broken up across mass bodies of water and people ventured across these 'oceans' to populate these lands as well.
The writing went on to describe how the nonmagic became a greater population than the magical, and a bitterness formed between the two. The nonmagic became known as 'Muggles' as they seemed to have muddied the once happy life of the original race. Their new name was spat on in secret, unbeknownst to them, and everyone seemed to get on with the need for survival.
"What are you reading?"
I glanced up from the library table to Galinda Weatherby. She was a Ravenclaw who had always seemed fascinated by me - like a specimen being observed for its odd quirks and natures. Her wide, observant eyes flickered to me to the book and back again, curiosity brimming from her like a cauldron boiling over. I cursed to myself for forgetting that Weatherby had stayed over the holiday. She would never just leave me alone.
"Just some old book." I tried to be discreet with closing the cover, but she was having none of that.
As Weatherby flipped through the pages, ignoring my grumbles of 'personal space' and 'nosy, know-it-alls,' she stared at me, green eyes wider than ever. "I did not know you understood French... " She trailed off with a questioning lilt in her voice and my eyes shot to the worn book in her hands.
So the enchantment worked just like Salazar said it would. But how would I cover this one up? I eased back in my chair to seem casual despite my heart racing like the wings of a snitch.
"One of the caretakers at the orphanage speaks it and has many books." I quickly racked my brain for more. "She had me read them all the time and taught me the language when I was young."
"Do you speak it?"
"Sadly no." I tried my best to look regretful and it appeared to pay off as Weatherby gave a slight nod.
"Well it must be good. You've been reading it for an entire week now." She then gathered her belongings and left me without so much as a 'goodbye.' Strange girl.
I dove back into the book as the urge overcame me. Slytherin told me of the rise and fall of the Roman Empire. Of witch hunts. Of Queen Mave and her teachings of magic before Hogwarts was even dreamt of. Of the recreation of the government - the Ministry. And memory charms. Of the kidnappings. Of King Arthur. Of Merlin. And finally of his four apprentices: Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar, himself.
Spring was seeping in on Winter by the time I finished. The weight of this secret bore down on me. Denial wanted to tear at it - scream and say this was not real, all lies! But I knew it would be pointless. The book did not lie. It did not lead me into a false conception as grand as this. I had already researched for ways to reveal foul play at the beginning, but every spell came up negative.
Salazar was wise in his writings and was almost begging for someone to help. The only problem was; What was I, a second year Slytherin supposed to do? The fact that Muggleborns were not even... real. It was mind boggling. The only one who had lied and tricked anyone was the Ministry, and they had to be stopped.
And one day, years from now with careful planning and preparations, I, Tom Marvolo Riddle, was going to stop them.
Maybe you're biting off more than you can chew, Tom? Haha just kidding. I hoped you liked that twist at the end. Didn't see it coming, or was it so obvious? Write a review and tell me.
Chapter 2 will fast forward some decades and switch POV. It will also be much much much longer. Till next time : )