Disclaimer: Everything you recognize is by J.K. Rowling.
12-The Very Secret Diary
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.
I was especially thankful for that for I was on teary snot rag duty. I know, that sounds about as much fun as it actually is. Hermione had at least one major breakdown a day wailing about either how stupid she was, or about how unfair life was. Not in the way that you'd think either, life was only unfair because it was keeping her from being in class.
This was something that Harry, Ron, and I thought was crazy. We brought her each day's homework for she insisted that she had to keep up. "If I'd sprouted whiskers, I'd take a break from work," says Ron, tipping a stack of books onto Hermione's bedside table one evening.
Hermione huffed and sent a glare his way. Harry sat down on the chair next to her bed, and I propped myself up on the edge. "Don't be silly Ron, I've got to catch up!" Hermione snaps at him pulling out her transfiguration textbook in the pile and opening it up.
"Well at least you're getting out of class with Lockhart. I'd literally kill to get out of it. If he opens his big fat mouth one more time to assign a poem about his greatness, then I'm shoving Voyages with Vampires right in his mouth." I grumble malevolently. Hermione gives me an affronted look but Harry cuts in before we are graced with another Lockhart is the greatest wizard alive speech.
Hermione is usually in a good mood since all the hair had vanished from her face finally and her eyes were slowly starting to turn back to the brown that they normally are. "I don't suppose you've got any new leads?" Hermione says in a whisper, so that Madam Pomfrey can't hear her.
"Nothing," Harry grumbles gloomily.
"I was so sure it was Malfoy," says Ron, for about the hundredth time.
"I said it once, I'll say it again. I TOLD YOU SO." I say having my fun of rubbing it into Ron's face a little. He sent me a glare, and I just grinned right back.
"What's that?" Harry asks, pointing to something gold sticking out from under Hermione's pillow.
"Just a get well card," squeaks Hermione hastily, trying to poke it out of sight, but Ron is too quick for her. He pulls it out, flicks it open, and reads 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 looks up at Hermione, disgusted. "You sleep with this under your pillow?" He cries. I can't believe that she does that. I think that I might have actually thrown up a little in my mouth I was so revolted. Hermione luckily for her was spared from answering by Madame Pomfrey swooping into the curtained off area with Hermione's next dose of medicine.
I'm thrilled that I'm finally not the one who is required to take foul tasting concoctions for once. On our way back to Gryffindor tower Harry had the pleasure of reminding me that we had a mountain of homework that Snape had assigned us this afternoon. Ron was currently moaning about the lost opportunity to ask Hermione questions about the Hair Raising potion.
I myself was having a hard time wrapping my head around the past few days. What Moaning Myrtle had told me was starting to nag at my mind. It was a constant reminder of how little I actually knew about my family. Sure I can read about them in history books, but that's not the same as having actually known them.
Besides history is for the important facts, not all the small details about what made that person who they were and why, I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm in a sort of odd form of homesickness, just for a home that I will never know. I had been to the corridor outside Myrtle's bathroom many times when I could get around Finch, but I hadn't ever gotten up the nerve to go in and ask her to tell me more about my family.
Knowing her, she'd stop being nice and just scream at me for my troubles. I'm wrenched out of my thoughts by an angry outburst from the floor above our current location. "That's Filch," Harry mutters as we hurry up the stairs and pause, out of sight, listening hard.
"You don't think someone else's been attacked?" I question. I feel myself start to tremble. I'm not sure how much more of this I can take.
We stand still, our heads inclined toward Filch's voice, which sounds quite hysterical.
"— even more work for me! Mopping all night, like I haven't got enough to do! No, this is the final straw, I'm going to Dumbledore —" His footsteps recede along the out-of-sight corridor and we hear a distant door slam. Slowly we poke our heads around the corner and glance down the corridor.
Filch had obviously been manning his spot by where Mrs. Norris was found petrified, and the floor in the corridor was flooded with water. Well I can now see why he was in such a right state. Myrtle must have flooded the bathroom, by the sounds of the loud wails that I can hear coming from in there.
"Now what's up with her?" whines Ron. Moaning Myrtle is really not one of his favorite people, she's right up there with Malfoy and Lockhart about now.
"Let's go and see," Harry says, and holding their robes over our ankles we step through the great wash of water to the door bearing its OUT OF ORDER sign, ignoring it as always, and enter. Myrtle is wailing even louder once we're inside the bathroom. I've never seen or heard her this upset before. It's quite shocking really to be honest. I wonder if she was this loud when she was still alive?
Harry and Ron turn their gazes to me with a look like they expect me to say the first words to the distraught ghost floating behind a toilet stall. "Um… hey Myrtle what's up? Why'd you flood the bathroom again?" I ask her awkwardly. Even though Myrtle has been nicer to me than most, I'm still not exactly sure how to go about approaching her. She sniffs a few times and levels a glare at the three of us.
"Who's that? Have you come back to throw something else at me?" Myrtle gurgles from behind the door. Harry took a step closer to the closed door.
"Myrtle why would someone want to throw something at you?" He asks her.
"Because she's bat shit crazy." Ron murmurs under his breath to me.
"Don't ask me," Myrtle shouts, emerging with a wave of yet more water, which splashes onto the already sopping floor. "Here I am, minding my own business, and someone thinks it's funny to throw a book at me. . . ."
"But it can't hurt you if someone throws something at you," says Harry, reasonably. "I mean, it'd just go right through you, wouldn't it?" Oh Harry, please tell me that you didn't just say that. He obviously doesn't understand how to talk to girls properly yet. Here we go.
He has said the wrong thing. Myrtle puffs herself up and shrieks, "Let's all throw books at Myrtle, because she can't feel it! Ten points if you can get it through her stomach! Fifty points if it goes through her head! Well, ha, ha, ha! What a lovely game, I don't think!"
"Who threw it at you, anyway?" questions Harry, trying to get the ghost to calm down.
"I don't know. . . . I was just sitting in the U-bend, thinking about death, and it fell right through the top of my head," sniffles Myrtle, glaring at them. "It's over there, it got washed out. . . ." She says gesturing in the direction of the big circle of sinks. I feel bad for Myrtle a little bit. She just makes it so hard to get to know her, and she's so antagonistic to everyone she meets. It's hard to feel sympathy for a person like that.
We all turn our gazes to under the sink in which she's pointing at and underneath it lies a small thin black book. Harry goes over to pick it up, but I throw out an arm to catch him. "What?" Harry asks upset at being detained.
"Are you crazy?" says Ron. "It could be dangerous."
"Dangerous?" replies Harry, laughing. "Come off it, how could it be dangerous?"
"You'd be surprised," explains Ron, who is looking apprehensively at the book. "Some of the books the Ministry's confiscated — Dad's told me — there was one that burned your eyes out. And everyone who read Sonnets of a Sorcerer spoke in limericks for the rest of their lives. And some old witch in Bath had a book that you could never stop reading! You just had to wander around with your nose in it, trying to do everything one-handed. And —"
I nod along with what Ron's saying. "All right I get it!" Harry says huffily stopping Ron mid rant. "Well, we won't find out unless we look at it," he says, and he ducks around me and picks the soggy book up off the floor.
"Harry no!" I cry but it's far too late. Harry is looking the book over, and opening it up to look at the pages.
"Hmm… there's nothing in it. All blank pages except for the inside cover. T.M. Riddle. I wonder who that is?" Harry thinks aloud. I grimace quietly and bite on my lower lip. This book can only be trouble I know it. Why else would it be discarded in this manner? If I wanted to get rid of my homework I would have just set it on fire, it would be more entertaining then.
"Hold up I know that name!" Ron shouts in surprise. I turn to my redheaded friend and raise and eyebrow at him. "T.M. Riddle got an award for special school services fifty years ago." Ron explains. Okay now I'm impressed how on earth did he find that out?
"What? I had to polish is trophy like fifty times at detention for I kept spitting up slugs on it." Ron says blushing at the embarrassing memory. Harry turns to the back cover of the book and sees something.
"He must've been Muggle-born," says Harry thoughtfully. "To have bought a diary from Vauxhall Road. . . ."
"Well, it's not much use to you," says Ron. He drops his voice. "Fifty points if you can get it through Myrtle's nose."
"Ron! Come on she hasn't done anything to you recently. She's traumatized today. Leave her alone." I tell him, grabbing him by the arm and forcibly pulling him out of the bathroom. There's no need to get caught by Filch today either. I didn't have time to see Harry pocket the book.
Hermione leaves the hospital wing, de-whiskered, tail-less, and fur-free, at the beginning of February. On her first evening back in Gryffindor Tower, Harry shows her T. M. Riddle's diary and tells her the story of how we had found it. I still wasn't very impressed with him for having taken the book anyway.
"Oooh, it might have hidden powers," says Hermione enthusiastically, taking the diary and looking at it closely.
"If it has, it's hiding them very well," Ron grumbles. "Maybe it's shy. I don't know why you don't chuck it, Harry."
"I wish I knew why someone did try to chuck it," says Harry. "I wouldn't mind knowing how Riddle got an award for special services to Hogwarts either."
"Could've been anything," Ron hypothesizes. "Maybe he got thirty O.W.L.s or saved a teacher from the giant squid. Maybe he murdered Myrtle; that would've done everyone a favor. . . ." I smack him in the shoulder, but I can't hide the small grin that's on my face. That would be rather entertaining.
Harry and Hermione share a look. It's been one that I'm growing to hate. "What?" I growl growing tired of this situation. If its not one thing this year its another.
"Well, the Chamber of Secrets was opened fifty years ago, wasn't it?" Harry says. "That's what Malfoy said."
"Yeah . . ." says Ron slowly.
"And this diary is fifty years old," adds Hermione, tapping it excitedly.
"So?" I reply crossing my arms over my chest in annoyance.
"Oh, guys, wake up," snaps Hermione. "We know the person who opened the Chamber last time was expelled fifty years ago. We know T. M. Riddle got an award for special services to the school fifty years ago. Well, what if Riddle got his special award for catching the Heir of Slytherin? His diary would probably tell us everything — where the Chamber is, and how to open it, and what sort of creature lives in it — the person who's behind the attacks this time wouldn't want that lying around, would they?"
I sigh and shake my head. I bring a hand to my face to rub my temples. "That's all great in theory Mione but the book is blank. No one ever wrote in it!" I cry frustration breaking through. Harry bites his lip, I guess that he hadn't thought that far. Hermione on the other hand looks downright excited.
She pulls her wand out of her robe, and grins. "It might be invisible ink!" she whispers. Hermione taps the diary three times and says, "Aparecium!" Nothing happens. Undaunted, Hermione shoves her hand into her bag and pulls out what appears to be a bright red eraser.
"It's a Revealer, I got it in Diagon Alley," she explains. She rubs hard on January first. Nothing happens. Hermione huffs out a breath of air with a pout fully adorning her face.
"I'm telling you, there's nothing to find in there," grouses Ron. "Riddle just got a diary for Christmas and couldn't be bothered filling it in." I bite my lower lip. There's something not right about that diary. It is just too big of a coincidence that we happened upon it.
"There's nothing else that we can do with it. I say we just get rid of the thing. I don't like what its already doing to us. We're sitting here crowded around a diary with blank pages, like it's going to do a trick." I say nervously. Harry looks skeptical and Hermione looks like she wants to spend another few hours attempting to crack it.
"I'm telling you, there's nothing to find in there," says Ron. "Riddle just got a diary for Christmas and couldn't be bothered filling it in." I hope that he's right.
The sun has now started to shine weakly on Hogwarts again. Inside the castle, the mood has grown more hopeful. There have been no more attacks since those on Justin and Nearly Headless Nick, and Madam Pomfrey is pleased to report that the Mandrakes are becoming moody and secretive, meaning that they are fast leaving childhood.
"The moment their acne clears up, they'll be ready for repotting again," we heard her tell Filch kindly one afternoon. "And after that, it won't be long until we're cutting them up and stewing them. You'll have Mrs. Norris back in no time." Not that having that old bat of a cat around again would be a good thing though.
Perhaps the Heir of Slytherin has lost his or her nerve, that's what Harry thinks. It must be getting riskier and riskier to open the Chamber of Secrets, with the school so alert and suspicious. Perhaps the monster, whatever it was, was even now settling itself down to hibernate for another fifty years. . . .
Ernie Macmillan though was being a general grade A pain in the arse. He was positive that Harry was still the heir of Slytherin and that he only stopped because he had given himself away at the dueling club meeting. Ron and I had attempted to send Ernie to the hospital wing for that comment, but Percy the perfect prefect happened around the corner and managed to stop the fight before it even started.
Even worse we had to listen through another boring and brain melting lecture from him on responsibility, and what it truly meant to be a Gryffindor. Personally I still don't see how the boy didn't manage to end up with the Ravenclaws he's so dull.
Peeves isn't helping matters; he keeps popping up in the crowded corridors singing "Oh, Potter, you rotter . . ." now with a dance routine to match. Gilderoy Lockhart seems to think he himself has made the attacks stop. Harry and I overheard him telling Professor McGonagall so while the Gryffindors were lining up for Transfiguration.
"I don't think there'll be any more trouble, Minerva," he boasts, tapping his nose knowingly and winking. "I think the Chamber has been locked for good this time. The culprit must have known it was only a matter of time before I caught him. Rather sensible to stop now, before I came down hard on him." I had to conceal my gag with the sleeve of my robe, but I'm positive that Professor McGonagall had caught it, for I saw the faintest hint of a smile at my reaction.
"You know, what the school needs now is a morale-booster. Wash away the memories of last term! I won't say any more just now, but I think I know just the thing. . . ." He taps his nose again and strides off. Ha! Little did he know that this school was going to get livelier very soon courtesy of the Weasley twins and yours truly!
That evening the Weasley twins and I finally got to implement our newest act of mischief merriment making. Since our glorious armour incident last year we've been looking for a way to outdo ourselves this year. That's the problem with success in my mind. You have to work even harder to come up with something bigger and better to top off your last production and to keep people interested and invested in what you do.
Well I put my charms skills to work again this time, and with the Weasley's mysterious and wondrous sneaking skills, our plan was hatched, and now we're going to see the fruits of our labors. In hindsight it really wasn't that hard to put in place.
At dinner tonight, I tuck into my spot next to Ron at the table. Harry and Hermione sit down across from us, and I can see Fred and George a little bit father down the table. We had put a time-release charm on our prank so that we wouldn't actually have to cast the spell during dinner. We would have been caught far too easily that way.
After about fifteen minutes most of the students and staff have wandered in and began to eat their meals. This was by design so that we'd have the greatest amount of people there for our stunt. I couldn't help but grin and start to wiggle in my seat. I eyed the ham on my plate, and thought about what was about to happen.
Suddenly a high-pitched scream erupted in the hall. Everyone jumped and glanced to see where the commotion was coming from. The lucky first victim of our prank was a little first year Hufflepuff who was staring horrified at her piece of broccoli that was skewered on her fork.
"Ohhhhhhh! Why? What did I ever do to you? Wasn't being beheaded from my stalk enough for you people? Now you have to go and stab through me?" The squeaky voice was coming from the broccoli on her fork. Everyone was shocked and gave each other perturbed looks.
The poor first year dropped her fork in fright. Suddenly the whole hall erupted in a cacophony of noise. All the food on every person's plate had burst into a multitude of protests and insults. Malfoy's dinner roll was calling him and Albino prat, well more like screaming it loudly.
Ron jumped from beside me when his porridge had started to gurgle on his spoon. "Hey dopey, you'd think that you'd stop acting so piggy and learn a few manners yeah? There are ladies present you know?" His porridge grumbles. Ron squealed in a very girly manner and his spoon and soup went clattering to the table.
My brother was currently fighting with his piece of ham that was accusing him of a gross lack of ethics in eating it. I could see my brother looking more offended by the minute. Hermione was shocked to awe as she watched her dinner fight amongst itself about which portion of the meal was the best, the meat, potatoes, or greens. It sounded like a revolt was on her hands in any moment.
Ariana Dumbledore was laughing merrily as she was listening to her pudding tell your momma jokes that were sprinkled in with fat jokes. McGonagall looked highly offended as her roast made passes at her. "Is it just me or are you looking just ravishing today professor, and I would know because I'm a piece of meat! We go together perfectly!"
Dumbledore was chuckling as his dinner roll was crying out about the injustice of life as being a piece of food. "Oh the humanity! I tell you sir you just go about your days minding your own business then you're mixes with butter and yeast, and let me tell you that we have nothing in common! Then after you're well and on your way to motion sickness, you're separated and poured into molds. After that you're thrusting into a scalding hot oven! Can you believe it?" His roll laments.
"Then after all that your life is end quite harshly when you ungrateful humans tear into us with your teeth. I tell you that this is a thankless and dreary existence!" He chuckles at his roll's anguish.
Harry has started to duck the food that has started flying at him. His plate had started a mutiny against the human tyranny that was oppressing them, and it was time to revolt. I couldn't help but laugh as my ham and broccoli bust out into hysterical tears.
The Weasley twins were singing the praises of food rights and the equality of living things, and the things that sustain the living things. Most of the hall was in laughter after the first few minutes of shock wore off, except for the students that happened to be accosted by their food of the night.
I glanced back at the headmaster and judging by the twinkle in his eye, that this was the right thing to do. It might have been a little unorthodox, but I think that it was the right thing to do. Millicent Bulstrode was crying out in disgust as the gravy dish poured all over her.
Pansy Parkinson was laughing at her but that was before her plate literally exploded right in her face. She had to spent the rest of her night picking bits of ham and salad out of her hair. I shared a conspiratorial grin with the twins and their good friend Lee Jordan. I'm pretty sure that this was a success.
It was totally worth it to watch Snape's porridge profess its dying love to him. The look on the bat like teacher's face was priceless. More then a few snickers were heard at that. It took a while for the chaos to quiet down but by the end of dinner there was a smile on almost everyone's face even Percy Weasley who never seemed to be happy unless handing out detentions. Hogwarts needed a little bit of unwinding. I just hope that this lighter air can stay around for a while longer.
So Lockhart's crummy idea of a morale booster came at breakfast the morning of February fourteenth. Harry and I hadn't had much sleep the night before because of a late running Quidditch practice. Wood was striving to become the young wizard to ever blow a vein in his head in my opinion. When Harry and I walked into breakfast late that morning, I actually had to stop and rub my eyes to make sure that I was indeed awake and not dreaming.
I'm not sure which one would have been better at this point. The walls are all covered with large, lurid pink flowers. Worse still, heart-shaped confetti is falling from the pale blue ceiling. Harry sits down next to a horrified Ron while I slide into place next to a giggling Hermione.
I don't know what she finds so great about this set up. I am a girl and I'm a little bit girly at times but this is definitely too much for me. Maybe we're being punished for the food prank a few weeks ago, or the farting pen prank George, Fred, and I had played on Filch one rare time when he was actually back in his office.
"What in the name of Merlin's saggy pants happened here?" I question, half horrified.
"It looks like a greeting card threw up in here." Harry murmurs stricken. Ron, Hermione, and I all give him confused looks and Harry sighs. "Never mind that, it's a Muggle thing." Harry explains with a wave of his hand.
Ron points to the teachers' table, apparently too disgusted to speak. Lockhart, is wearing lurid pink robes to match the decorations, and is now waving for silence. The teachers on either side of him are looking stony-faced. From where I sit, I can see a muscle going in Professor McGonagall's cheek. Snape looks as though someone has just fed him a large beaker of Skele-Gro.
"Happy Valentine's Day!" Lockhart shouts. "And may I thank the forty-six people who have so far sent me cards! Yes, I have taken the liberty of arranging this little surprise for you all — and it doesn't end here!" I glance at Hermione's pink-cheeked expression and groan. Not Hermione as well! I can't believe she's falling for his idiotic and childish act. He's no more of a professor than Filch, and that might be even being mean to Filch!
Lockhart claps his hands and through the doors to the entrance hall march a dozen surly-looking dwarfs. Not just any dwarfs, however. Lockhart has them all wearing golden wings and carrying harps. Oh those poor creatures!
"My friendly, card-carrying cupids!" beams Lockhart. "They will be roving around the school today delivering your valentines! And the fun doesn't stop here! I'm sure my colleagues will want to enter into the spirit of the occasion! Why not ask Professor Snape to show you how to whip up a Love Potion! And while you're at it, Professor Flitwick knows more about Entrancing Enchantments than any wizard I've ever met, the sly old dog!"
Professor Flitwick buries his face in his hands. Snape is looking as though the first person to ask him for a Love Potion would be force-fed poison. I couldn't help but chuckle at that. At least it wasn't only me that thought that Lockhart was a bumbling idiot of monumental proportions.
"Please, Hermione, tell me you weren't one of the forty-six," says Ron as we leave the Great Hall for our first lesson. Hermione suddenly becomes very interested in searching her bag for her schedule and doesn't answer.
"Why Hermione? He's not worth your time, the idiot will more surely blow you up then actually show you the correct usage of a DADA spell!" I cry flailing my arms about wildly to make my point clear. Hermione's cheeks just color with embarrassment and anger.
Before we can get to our first lesson though, I'm flummoxed by the sound of a crudely played harp, and horribly off key deep singing voice of a dwarf. I glance down the hallway and see a bright cheeked Ariana standing next to my blushing brother as the dwarf sings to her horribly.
"Oh sweet valentine, how I wish you were mine. And that I could do more for you than this rhyme!" The dwarf sings but is cut off by Ariana dashing away from him abruptly. I don't fail to notice the gales of giggles that are left behind in her wake. I can see by the crestfallen look on my brother's face that he was in fact the one to commission the dwarf to sing for her.
I'm not exactly sure how I feel about my brother liking Ariana. It just doesn't feel right to me. Maybe because we have practically grown up with her since we were babes? I shake the weird feeling off and push through the lingering crowd to stand next to my brother. I place my hand on his shoulder softly.
"Are you okay Luka?" I ask him softly. Luka snaps his mortified eyes to me, and I can see the hurt and sorrow in them. He pulls away from me sharply and I frown at him.
"I'm fine. I need to get to class Jamie, and you should as well. Don't want Kingsley to get another letter now do you?" He snaps. I wince at the sharp tone in his voice, but do nothing as I watch my brother hurry away to his next class. I don't really know hoe to help him in the matters of the heart, I haven't even had someone that I fancy like that yet. The closest that I've gotten is Malfoy. I feel a shudder roll down my spine at the thought.
All day long, the dwarfs keep barging into our classes to deliver valentines, to the annoyance of our teachers, and late that afternoon as the Gryffindors are walking upstairs for Charms, one of the dwarfs catches up with Harry. "Oi, you! 'Arry Potter!" shouts a particularly grim-looking dwarf, elbowing people out of the way to get to Harry.
Harry doesn't look too keen to be confronted in a hallway with first years present and one of them having to been Ginny Weasley at that. The dwarf, however, cuts his way through the crowd by kicking people's shins, and reaches him before he managed to get two paces.
"I've got a musical message to deliver to 'Arry Potter in person," he says, twanging his harp in a threatening sort of way.
"Not here," Harry hisses, trying to escape. Oh poor Harry, but part of me is looking forward to seeing what kind of message that he's going to get. Oh I know that that's terrible but this is one of the most amusing things that's happened all day!
"Stay still!" grunts the dwarf, grabbing hold of Harry's bag and pulling him back.
"Let me go!" Harry snarls, tugging. With a loud ripping noise, his bag splits in two. His books, wand, parchment, and quill spill onto the floor and his ink bottle smashes over everything.
Harry scrambles around, trying to pick it all up before the dwarf starts singing, causing something of a holdup in the corridor. "What's going on here?" A lazy drawl interrupts the moment of commotion and I fix my gaze on the leering face of Malfoy. Great this just can't get any worse can it.
Ron is attempting to help Harry pick up with stuff while Hermione attempts to get the first years to move along, but all attention is still stuck right on Harry. I sigh well this is definitely not going to end well. "What's all this commotion?" says another familiar voice as Percy Weasley arrives. This just keeps getting better.
Losing his head, Harry tries to make a run for it, but the dwarf seizes him around the knees and brings him crashing to the floor. Ouch, I wonder if the dwarf that my brother used with Ariana was this persistent in getting his message delivered?
"Right," he says, sitting on Harry's ankles. "Here is your singing valentine: His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad,
His hair is as dark as a blackboard.
I wish he was mine, he's really divine,
The hero who conquered the Dark Lord."
Oh Merlin. I clap a hand over my mouth to keep from bursting into great gales of laughter along with the rest of the kids in the corridor. Harry himself even looks like he's trying to keep from laughing. I can't believe that someone sent this to Harry through singing dwarf. This has definitely been an entertaining day to say that least.
I happen to land my gaze on Ginny Weasley and suddenly my mirth at the situation disappears. She looks close to crying and humiliated. Oh no. She was that one who sent the singing valentine to Harry. That actually makes a lot of sense, and I feel bad for her. Harry doesn't think of her that way, and I'm sure that he doesn't think of anyone that way. I mean come on we're only thirteen, well Harry is still twelve I will admit.
I miss the confrontation between Harry and Malfoy in which Harry had used expelliarmus on him, but I do catch back on when Malfoy turns his attention to Ginny. "I don't think that Potter liked you valentine very much!" Malfoy sneers at her. Why that smarmy little weasel!
Ginny covers her face with her hands and runs into class. Snarling, Ron pulls out his wand, too, but Harry pulls him away. Ron doesn't need to spend the whole of Charms belching slugs. For the rest of the day Harry is preoccupied with Riddle's diary like always and the Weasley twins are singing 'his eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad' for too much.
Hermione had gone up to the dorms to console the poor girl, and I was afraid to do so for I wasn't much good in the comfort department. You only had to ask almost anyone who knew me. I guess that I just haven't grown into the touchy feely part of myself just quite yet. That night before I go to bed though, I focus on adding another charmed paper creation to my collection though. This time it is a dwarf with wings and a tutu carrying a harp, and threatening to club people with it.
Needless to say that when I lay my head down to rest that night, some pretty interesting dreams entertain me.