Diary of a Hidden Girl
by Ash-Caro-Lynn
Chapter X : Of Suspicions and Secrecy
Date : 14 February 1993
"Well, I must say it's quite relieving that there haven't been any more attacks," commented Hermione as we walked through the corridor. She was right - things had calmed down considerably since Justin Finch-Fletchley had been Petrified - not meaning to say that this had calmed things down at all, but a collective sigh of relief was breathed that there had been no more attacks.
"Tell me about it," I replied. "I've almost gotten those Hufflepuffs to stop whispering and staring!" I sent said Hufflepuffs a death glare, and they immediately shut up. "I am good."
"Actually, I think it's more so out of fear than anything else-"
"Oh, shut up, Harry."
The only infuriating thing that was causing us grief at the moment was Lockhart - well, at least causing Harry, Ron and I grief. The professor seemed genuinely convinced that he had frightened the Basilisk into letting up on the attacks. I marvel at the fact that he could be so... incredibly daft.
The Mandrakes were maturing quickly - they had started to become moody and rebellious, a sign of their entrance into adolescence that I found quite hilarious when we worked with them.
Honestly. I had had the time of my life in that Herbology class, and I don't even enjoy the subject. Which is why the other three had stared at me strangely as I burst into hysterical fits of laughter for the next week.
And an added bonus of this was that soon, they would be mature and ready to be brutally chopped up and thrown in a cauldron for restorative draught that would bring Colin and Justin back and by then, hopefully, there would be no more Petrified students.
"I do hope there's some good food," I commented wistfully as we entered the Great Hall.
The sight that greeted me rivaled Justin's Petrified figure for the spot of the most sickening thing I had ever seen.
Pink.
Everywhere.
There were decorations on the walls, on the tables, and there were a troupe of dwarves dressed up that were going around and taking requests for singing valentines. The man who had caused this chaos - none other than Gilderoy Lockhart himself - sat up at the Head Table, looking even more cheerful than when he saw his reflection, and that's saying something. He was clad in pink for the occasion and I held my hands over my eyes.
"It's disgusting," I mumbled, taking my glasses off so I wouldn't be able to see it as clearly. "Why must it all be so pink?!"
"That I don't know," replied Harry. "I know the heir of Slytherin is evil and all... but Lockhart's starting to rival that reputation."
With an expression of pure horror, I carefully lowered myself onto the bench at the Gryffindor table, shuddering at the pink doilies that adorned it. "I hope I don't get any of those singing valentines," I commented. "They seem pretty adamant."
One of the dwarves was singing a horrid rendition of some love song, to a guy who looked very, very tortured.
"Oh, please," replied Hermione. "I doubt anyone in our year likes you enough to do that..." She said this with a pointed look at Harry.
"Oh, Hermione, stop with that!" I exclaimed.
"Stop with what?" asked Ron. "Is there something I'm missing?"
"Nope," I replied. "You're not missing anything." I took a piece of toast off a pink plate. "I hate pink. Next professor I see who wears pink is getting hexed."
"I don't think any of them are that enthusiastic," replied Harry. Lockhart stood up, and I started to sink under the table so I wouldn't have to look.
"Good morning, students!" he announced loudly. "I do hope you all enjoy the special touches I've made for the holiday... and maybe some of you will find love blossoming on this splendid holiday..."
I put my fingers in my ears. "La la la la la..." I muttered.
"Willow Leavitt?" I heard a gruff voice ask. Hermione's foot nudged me.
"Who is it?" I whispered.
"It's one of the dwarves!" she replied, sounding way more excited than I felt.
"Hide me," I muttered.
But the dwarf had already noticed, and thought it had me cornered. "I've got a singing valentine for one Willow Leavitt..."
I made to escape, but a leg went up and blocked me. I scowled, trying to go the other way, but one near identical blocked that path too. "I should have realized something was wrong when you two sat apart..." I muttered through gritted teeth.
"Don't worry, dear Willow," replied one of the twins.
"Yeah, we aren't that bad at poetry," added the other. The dwarf started singing.
"Her eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad,
And her hair reminds us of the fires.
We wish she was ours, we'll pursue her for hours,
And remind you that we're both liars."
"Bravo," I muttered sarcastically, my face red as I took my seat again. "That was brilliant."
"Thank you, darling Willow," replied Fred.
"We do try."
"Hey, dwarfy," I muttered.
"My name is Doc," he replied with a scowl.
"Whatever," I replied. "Follow me... I have got a singing valentine for you..."
"Who for?" he asked, following me. I shot a look back at the twins over my shoulder.
"Fred and George Weasley."
"Their heads are red as the flames,
Eyes like the sky but with frames,
And their pranking prowess puts most others to shame...
But while they've got their quirks,
They're really just jerks,
Who don't have an ounce of game!"
"That was harsh, Willow."
"Yeah, we're hurt."
I rolled my eyes. "Sure," I replied. "Admit it. That one took the cake."
"If it's not the two before it, it's that one," replied Fred. "Low blow with the comment about game... low blow."
"So. No more singing valentines... ever?"
"Agreed."
"Willow Leavitt!" called out a dwarf as I walked with Harry to Transfiguration, Hermione having convinced Ron to stay behind with her so she could ask Professor Lockhart a question.
"Not again," I mumbled.
"Didn't you call it off?" asked Harry confusedly.
"I've got a singing valentine for Willow Leavitt!" announced the dwarf. I quickly sped up, and Harry followed.
"Shit," I muttered. "He isn't stopping for anything, is he?"
"He's pushing his way through... he's catching up... he's grabbing my bag - hey, let go of that!"
The bag fell to the ground, ink spilling out of one of the bottles and getting all over it. I groaned, dropping to my knees and helping him to clean up his supplies as the dwarf started his song.
"Her eyes shine like gems in the afternoon light,
But behind the bright jewels she has quite the fight,
For her temper will flare,
Fiery as her hair,
And yet I still have her in my sights...
For every rose has its thorn,
But when this one was born,
None would ever know...
That she'd capture my heart,
All of it, not just part,
This thief, this amazing Willow."
"Who sent that?" demanded Harry the moment the dwarf had left. "I'll kill him-"
"Chill, Harry," I replied. "Would you rather he have come up to me and said it in person? Besides, it's just a singing valentine. It's not like I'll remember it in a week."
Oh boy, was I wrong.
Date : 28 February 1993
"What's up?" asked Hermione, plopping herself down on the couch next to me. I shrugged.
"Thinking," I replied simply.
"About?" she pressed, nudging me. "Come on, you can tell me."
"Well," I replied. "It's the valentine."
"The valentine?" repeated Hermione. "What valentine?"
"Harry didn't tell you?" I asked.
"Are you talking about one of the ones the twins sent you?" asked Hermione. "You know, they weren't being serious-"
"Not those," I replied. "The real one."
"What real one?" asked Hermione. "Did someone actually send you one?" She winked at me. "You know who I bet it was-"
"Before you say Harry, it wasn't," I replied. "Harry wouldn't threaten to kill
Chapter Ten : Of Suspicions and Secrecy by Ash-Caro-Lynn
himself."
"What's this?" asked Harry, coming up to us. "Sounds like you're painting me out to be suicidal."
"No, no, no," I replied with a grin. "Nothing like that. Quite the contrary, actually, we're wondering who my secret admirer is."
"And what does that have to do with me?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. Hermione giggled, and I scowled at her.
"Nothing," I replied. "Nothing at all... hey, what's up with that?"
"What's up with what?"
"The journal," I said, pointing to his bag. "You've got it sticking out - I thought we cleared that up ages ago."
"We did," he replied sheepishly. "It's just that I - er-"
"Are you using it?" I asked.
"Wait, what?" chimed Hermione and Harry, turning to look at me.
"Why would you think-"
"That's positively absurd-"
"I was joking," I replied. "But if you're not using it, then what purpose does it serve? There's nothing in it... is there?" I gasped, taking it from him. "You don't just carry this thing around everywhere for nothing, do you?"
"No," replied Harry, taking it back. "It's - well, I'll show you."
He pulled out a quill and an ink bottle from his bag and I watched curiously. "See, when that singing dwarf tried to give you your valentine, my bag fell," he explained. "Ink spilled out on all my things - all my things, except for this. Write your name, Hermione."
Confused, she took the quill from him and did so. She watched in amazement as it seemed to absorb the words, 'Hermione Granger.' "It's-"
"Just watch," replied Harry as words started to form on the page.
"Neato," I mumbled, watching it with fascination. "What's it say?" I grabbed my glasses off the table, where I had placed them earlier.
"It says, 'Hello, Hermione Granger. My name is Tom Riddle. How did you come across my diary?'" read Hermione aloud, in awe. "This is - it's incredible, but Harry, you should be more careful. Don't tell it anything private."
"See, Tom apparently caught the heir of Slytherin," explained Harry. "Fifty years ago. There was a student unleashing a deadly monster on the school and-"
"Hold up. How do you know this for sure?" I interrupted.
"Because Tom showed me a memory," replied Harry. "It showed him - he was confronting the heir, and-"
"Who?"
"Hagrid."
"Hagrid?" I repeated. "As in, Rubeus Hagrid? He's a half-giant, isn't he? He's not related to Slytherin, and-"
"Fifty years ago, he was setting a monster on the school," replied Harry. "He called it 'Aragog,' and Tom caught him unleashing it in the school."
"He was unleashing a monster, Tom caught him, and so the headmaster gave Tom a trophy?" Harry nodded. "They would have expelled him - and snapped his wand - so that's what the umbrella is for." I tilted my head to the side, giving it some thought. "Hagrid's no blood purist. There's no way he's responsible for these attacks."
"Then again," added Hermione, "Hagrid is rather naïve. There's a possibility that he doesn't even know the harm he's doing-"
"I was chatting with Hagrid the other day, 'Mione," I interrupted. "Just minutes before we found Justin. There's no way he was responsible."
"Then who was?"
I sighed. "You know what?" I got up. "I'm going to go to bed."
A/N : Think on that, darling Holly...