Chapter Two

Dear Diary,

All right. Tingling over. Whee! I had too much Starbucks, I guess. Anyway. Where was I? Oh. There's this boy, and I think he might be a ghost. He's only a little see-through now. He has wonderfully dark, curly hair that makes me want to run my fingers through it. It's all glossy without being greasy. I wonder what he puts in it?

And, OMG, he's wearing these totally cool retro clothes. OMGer, he has this incredibly sexy smirk...oh, but he has British teeth. Not so good. Well, maybe he has good eyes. Only, I can't really tell what color they are. Oh, he's coming closer and I think he's going to sit down...

!

Araminta

"Hullo," said the dark-haired boy.

"OMG, you're British," Araminta said before she could close her big, fat mouth. "Er, sorry love, but I've been having the most dreadfully awful time here with the turncoats--I mean, Yankees--I mean, former devotees to the crown--oh, bugger it. It's lovely to hear a familiar accent. Yours is quite posh!" Araminta followed this with a giggle. Oh, lordy gee, he probably thinks I'm a bleeding idiot now.

"Erm, nice to meet you," the boy said shyly. "My name is Tom. I was wondering if I could take a look at that book you've got."

Araminta clutched it to her ample chest. "Well, it's my diary...I don't want to have anybody reading it. How embarrassed I'd be if everyone knew my inner thoughts!" she exclaimed. Really, she thought to herself, it would be like standing around in your knickers! The only worse thing, I suppose, is having people able to listen to your thoughts. Then you can't even scritch them out and start over if you say something stupid! Damn. Scratch.

"That's why I was so curious," said the boy, who was growing more solid with each passing second. "I think it's mine. See? There, on the cover. It's my name. T. M. Riddle, which stands for Tom Marvolo Riddle."

"Oh, you must be all right, then. All of my favorite people have three names, at least." Araminta held the book out. "But please just look at the outside. I don't know how it could be yours, though."

Tom reached in his pocket and pulled out a pair of spectacles rimmed with black, then took the book from Araminta.

"You wear glasses!" she blurted out.

"Only for reading," Tom retorted. He looked like he was about to hex her. "Someday, they'll have these things called lasers that will correct your vision." He snorted. "My Divination teacher says that lasers will make my eyes all red and my skin all scaly, and that I should wait to have the surgery until the process is perfected. I say that I can't stand my glasses. And I definitely don't need them!" He tossed them in the nearest bin.

"Look, I didn't mean to make you angry," Araminta placated him. She realized that he had really dreamy eyes when they were unfocused, although she still couldn't tell what color they were.

Tom's face softened like ice cream on a hot day. (Mmm, ice cream.) "It's not your fault. It's my stupid Mug--it's something I inherited from my father."

An idea started scratching at the inside of Araminta's skull. She was having more trouble remembering past presents, but memories of tales Harry had told her fluttered into her brain unbidden. Something about Tom Marvolo Riddle and a diary and how Tom Riddle was You-Know-Who.

This scrawny, shrinking little violet was Lord Voldemort?

Another memory jumped up and down at the front of Araminta's consciousness. It reminded her that Ginny Weasley--oh, that was the woman in the shop who was so angry about me marrying Harry...kind of her to give me this diary, though!--had raised Tom Riddle with the diary once before. Araminta could do it again. And maybe, just maybe, the Dark Lord could be the solution to all her problems.

"Do you want to get out of here?" Araminta asked.

Tom shrugged. "Where's here? Never mind. Wherever I am, this is lame. Let's go."

"Just a second. I have to write something down first."

Araminta took a deep breath and started making over her present history.

Once upon a time, there was a girl named Araminta Potter-Malfoy. She blinked sleepily, then stretched her arms up over her head and rolled over. She wished she could stay in bed all day, wrapped up in her satin sheets with the green velvet curtains hanging close around her. She loved the dark. But, a thin ray of sunlight had wormed its way into her room, and she was awake...