A/N: I have a small side story that I think will fit well here. It will be a oneshot GinnyxDraco thing that will be right before this (I mean like during the fifth book). I don't know what its going to be called but when I have some idea of what its going to be I'll mention it.
Harry hid in the library. He did want to see any of his friends. Hermione would want to talk and use some of that pop psychology on him. Ron would want to ignore it all and fly or something stupid/ moronic. Ginny would looked dishearten around him, not that he blamed her he would too. So many people fretted about him in a caring frenzy. He really wanted just to scream and scream and scream till he couldn't anymore. All the finals were done so the only other person left in the library was Madam Pierce and she didn't give a damn as long he didn't mess up her books.
He never realized how amazing the library was till he spent so much time in it. He doubted anyone except Madam Pierce had any idea were everything was. The Muggles had the Dewey Decimal system but the Hogwarts library didn't have any discernable organization. It just sort of flowed around in twists and turns. And If he didn't want to be found, he wasn't.
But the library at Hogwarts was unlike most Libraries, the sole exception being the Library in Alexandria, but that sunk underneath the sea. It had a pseudo- soul, or moreover it had intelligence. It knew what Harry was looking for, even though Harry himself didn't what to know what he was looking for. Parts of the library were for the dark Arts, and not all were restricted. In fact most of the books of the Dark Arts were scattered among the Light or Neutral Art books. Including a journal that belonged to a student of death…
Harry was dozing on a table top, his head propped up against his arm, and he was drooling a little. A thin leather bound book was working its way out from between the covers of it companions, it tilted every so slightly and fell—atop Harry's head, waking him with a start. Rubbing his head, he looked intently at what woke him up. It was a journal, bound in soft leather, with the title being only: The Journal of B.J. Victoria. Harry flipped through the pages. The writing was blurred and out of focus, but the first pages caught his eye.
This journal is the property of Bertsimas J. Victoria.
A student of Death
A million idea's filled Harry's head, but the one that stuck was a single word. Necromage. He read on.
A student of death is not a necromage, if fact it is much more than just raise the dead. To be a Student of Death, you must be called and call to the Taker of Life for her help.
Huh? He was so confused, but he turned the page.
It was then he knew that he was a Student of Death. Bertsimas had drawn 'The Taker of Life' into his journal. She was stunning. She was drawn so that when you tilted the book the picture would change, if just a little. It wasn't like the magical painting he had seen before. It was different.
Looking outside, and seeing it was well past midnight, he swooped the invisibility cloak around him, and he took B.J.V. journal with him.
