A/N: Thank you so much 404 for your review, its my first one and means so much to me! Here is chapter two, shorter (I have a lot of homework myself to do) but it brings in one of the most important elements of the story.

Chapter Two:

Pages of Pearls

My life couldn't get any worse.

Actually I take that back, every time somebody says that everything gets a lot worse.

Alas I'm tempting fate.

This morning I woke up late, well you couldn't exactly blame me right? I had come across Europe the other day of course I was exhausted. I'm usually an early bird though so it was a surprise…a shock when I stumbledonto the landing that connected the two staircases andwith a bed-head and whacked into Tom Riddle.

"Well well what do we have here?" he had asked rather rhetorically.

I had replied by muttering something unintelligible under my breath, I was a bit disoriented and had walked away from him staggering in my baggy pyjamas.

"If you haven't noticed Ravine there are two sets ofstairs"

I hadn't bothered to listen to him at all and toppled down the staircase.

Yes. It did hurt. In fact the worst harm probably came to my dignity when our high and mighty Head Boy had to escort me to the Hospital Wing.

The healer there, a plump bossy kind of woman, Madame Marvel looked at me as if I were suffering from either a hangover or a mental disorder. The name suits her well though; she was excellent at her job and a miracle it was that I was patched up and out of the ward in time for my Potions Lesson.

I know regretfully wish I had suffered some kind of head injury and stayed in the Hospital Wing for longer and missed all my lessons.

Riddle was 100 percent correct as usual; I sat next to him in almost every lesson.

You know I could make up a song for my day; it just dotes upon my fantastic poetry skills doesn't it.

"I put my hand up for every question, but guess who did answer?

Yes it was him; perfect Mr. Riddle. So charming, handsome and smart.

And Lorelei Malfoy, she drives me crazy she flirts with him. The tart.

Slughorn favourites all those Slytherins. The snakes hate me and I know it.

He's also in love with Tom. That awful aristocratic twit.

Potions are such a bore. Did I mention that Lorelei Malfoy is a hore?

Then was Transfiguration, thank god for Dumbledore.

I got plenty of house points. Then I realised what house I was in.

Being in Slytherin is a sin."

Yes I know half of that didn't rhyme or make sense, but can you blame me? I'm bored and annoyed all at once...overpowering emotions and terrible poetry skills...

I stopped sharply in my little song as I heard the door of my bedroom creak open. I sat up straight as if there were a stick poking up my back. I had guessed it moments before, Riddle entered my room.

"What do I owe the pleasure?" I greeted civilly as possible. Well it was not like I had made completely no attempts to get along with him, he was just too arrogant to cooperate. And I certainly was not becoming another lap dog for him like Malfoy and Dolohov, his future trophy wives.

Riddle raised a finely arched eyebrow; he stepped slightly forward with a sour look on his face that he had to enter my space. It was fairly neat, I was trying to keep things orderly as possible. I felt a bit more responsible being Head Girl and all.

"Evening Ravine. Its quarter past ten. You were meant to be with me for Head duties an hour ago. Fortunately your presence is not needed as much as it is not desired just remember for tomorrow if you would like to keep your" he paused glancing at my face with a subtle mocking, "generously given position. Also since you had your accident this morning you missed Herbology. Here are your instructions for homework"

He dropped a stack full of papers on my desk. I moaned silently, N.E.W.Ts this year were going to drive me beyond all insanity. And believe me, my fellow housemates already assisted to that.

Riddle turned to leave, I didn't stop him. I had avoided him all the time not wishing to talk to him.

It was something about him that frightened me, his deep smooth voice, the ways his eyes read you, his pale handsome features contrasting so drastically with his hair which was the shade of the darkest black it outmatched my own locks.

If you could call them locks of course, you called lush golden ringlets that framed pretty faces locks. My hair was more of a dark straggly mess.

And Riddle was so distant even to what seemed like his "friends" or his subjects of this empire he was starting to build.

I heard them talking in the corridors, all the other Houses were afraid of him. Where only the Gryffindors, their rival dared confront him.

The Slytherins talked about him often, I heard them in the common room. It wasn't a place I visited often trust me, one thing I liked about having my own Head Girl space.

"He is truly great" I had heard one of them whisper so admiringly to another.

It made me shiver.

"They'll get it. Dumbledore is an old crack pot and so are the Ministry"

Personally, I was in awe of Professor Dumbledore. I thought he was the most powerful wizard in the world. It actually made my blood rise when I heard the stupid gits insult him. They were pawns of a seventeen-year-old boy.

But I did not dare doubt Tom. Not after all I heard. Snippets of conversations. About him being amazingly powerful, knowing magic beyond any other. And I heard the most frightening of all.

I knew another reason why Tom was feared.

He spoke Parselmouth.

He spoke to snakes.

It completely creeped me out, I did not like snakes. I guess it suited him though..

I didn't even remember who I heard it from, but instantly I knew it as an extreme Slytherin secret. I was thinking for a brief second of telling Dumbledore or Dippet. Then I realised what a stupid thing to do that would really be.

"Ouch" I suddenly cried as something hard hit my head. I whipped around and saw that it was a parcel, small but thick and neatly wrapped. The owl that had delivered my mail was now perched by the balcony outside the windows of my lonely dorm room.

I quickly got up from my bed and went to the window, the owl I immediately recognized as an Elf owl having previously owned the small winged animal in Italy. Ella my elf owl had died from unknown causes, I guessed some larger animal had killed her though because we found her dead outside the manor before I was set to leave for Hogwarts. I was upset but didn't let it bring me down too much, my grandmother being the no-nonsense type of woman she was barely let me have a funeral for poor Ella.

The tiny owl before my resembled her in many ways. Awww so cute!

That sounded far too..corny..cringe...

I smiled and reached into my pocket giving the bird a half eaten biscuit, the package delivered to me (although hitting my head) must have been heavy for the little thing to carry I felt it deserved a treat.

I noticed a large note attached to the owl's leg. Bending down, very gently I turned it over, the owl didn't notice as it was happily munching its buttermilk cookie away.

The note was in an elegant neat hand.

Dear Ms. Ravine

On your coming I did notice your absence of an owl. A very useful creature to any witch or wizard, a practical and merry gift. The Elf owl is named Oddie, I apologise for your parcel may come to you with poor service, as Oddie is swift but not the strongest of all owls.

I have enclosed for you a journal where you may write anything you wish. A surprise gift no doubt and there is more surprises to come.

Best Wishes

Albus Dumbledore

I smiled, quite grateful to the Transfiguration teacher for being so kind and generous towards me. I went back into my room and left a tray of more cookies outside for Oddie, I had a whole box in my draw.

I walked with the note and then, a bit excited jumped onto my bed and reached for the parcel on my duvet.

I unwrap it, and sure enough as Dumbledore said there was a journal. It was thick and leather bound, plain but to me enchanting.

The cover was snow white in colour and imprinted in gold in the centre of the cover was:

Tamzine Maeve Ravine

I wondered how he knew my middle name; I scarcely used it since I admitted I didn't really like it too much.

It meant something like...intoxicating..

Trust my flipping grandmother to give me such a name...as if "Ravine" wasn't bad enough.

I opened the first few pages; they were also stark white and itching to be written on.

I leaned to my side table and took my quill dipping it in dark blue ink.

I decided today I would right my first entry on the clean white pages of the journal.

I set my quill to the paper steadily and proceeded to write:

Dear

I almost dropped my quill and screamed at what happened next, my words disappeared into the paper and another person's handwriting appeared on the page.

Who is this?

The hand was different to mine and seemed oddly familiar. They were lean letters, graceful and regal unlike my own slanted quick writing. I was so amazed, the diary was writing back to me? Or was it a person? I was in my own depths of curiosity I had to find out.

Are you a muggle? If you don't know what that word means then don't worry.

I was taking precautions; if it was a person writing to me and it was a muggle I would tell Dumbledore and their memories would have to be altered.

No I am a wizard. I am assuming you are one too then.

I breathed; at least it was somebody magical.

Yes I am a witch Who are you?

I laughed at the reply.

Don't forget I asked you first.

Maybe it was someone I knew? Who knows?

Wait, I thought, I do have to be careful. If it is someone in the school then I don't want to be known easily. It's safer to create an alias. Had Dumbledore planned this? Or was it a mistake that I had this diary sent to me?

I quickly thought of a story.

My name is Pearl, I live in Germany.

It wasn't very original; it was my mother's story. She was Pearl Kirsch, a German/English girl who went to a magical school in Berlin.

I am Marvolo, I live in Albania.

Intriguing, I had never heard of the name Marvolo before, perhaps it was common in Albania.

I wanted to know more though, first the journal.

So you think we both got books that are kind of connected to each other?

I was hoping for some kind of answer.

Yes it seems so, an ancient use of magic to bind two objects. We are able to communicate to each other through parchment and quill, its take a powerful wizard and a very complex spell to do it. Even if we lived right next to each other it would take a strong enchantment to be able to last through a journal.

You speak English well.

I agreed with the rest and it was fascinating but the last part was a statement. I froze; I remembered I was a German girl.

My father is English and I speak fluently. So do you.

I smiled slightly well it was not untrue.

My father is also English, we are quite alike. Do you still go to school?

Yes Iattend the Berlin Institute.

It was where my mother had gone so I knew it was real.

I also attend a magical academy in Albania, how old are you?

I decided there was no harm in the truth.

Seventeen you?

I was startled at the reply.

I am also seventeen in seventh year. A strange coincidence. So you're taking your N.E.W.Ts too?

I remembered that I had to do my Potions essay and groaned.

Yes and it a lot of work, I'm taking all of them too.

I could almost picture the other writer laughing.

I agree, it is exhausting on everyone. I'm taking them all too, I almost regret passing all my O.W.Ls

I was surprised someone felt the same way and smiled.

It felt like I had found a friend.

Yeah me too. I've still got a dratty Potions essay to do, I'll have to wake up at 5am tomorrow morning and finish it.

Bad luck. I've done all of my stuff but now have got some extra to do. You just curse your brain sometimes.

Shit. The time. I'd better try and get some sleep.

I was a little disappointed, I was kind of having fun. I glanced at my own watch at my bedside. It was midnight. Okay maybe it was a good time to get to sleep.

Okay, Good night then

Goodnight

After that, our entire ink conversation dissolved away into the stark white pages..it was a strange discovery...this diary.

I smiled, happy at my discovery and even more comforted that someone had been friendly towards me. So there was nothing wrong with me, I thought dryly, It's the Slytherins that have made my social life descend totally.

It was weird. Really weird. I was thinking about some random seventeen-year-old guy in Albania, looking forward to writing in my journal tomorrow. I closed the diary and tucked it in the draw next to my bedside.

I fell into a deep sleep quickly, feeling a comfort in the darkness.

The snow-white pages of the journal fluttered softly in the moonlight.

A/N

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