True to her word, Lucy kept visiting Harry. She did so every day up until his birthday, where Petunia turned her away from the door coldly. She'd told her that Harry had 'gone away for the summer'. Now, she knew this was an absolute load of nonsense, and she intended to get to the bottom of it.

She did a check of the perimeter of the house. Sure enough, she found Harry's bedroom window, and there were bars fastened to it. She let out a growl. Those absolute bastards. What did they think they were doing, locking a child up like that?

She couldn't fathom how you could live with a boy as nice and selfless as Harry Potter and hate him. It was unheard of– had they spoken to him? He was so nice! Now he was locked up, and there wasn't anything Lucy could do about it short of being expelled or arrested.

I'm considering homicide, she wrote to Riddle on the train ride home.

Really? Good. What for?

She rolled her eyes. Of course he'd like that part.

The muggles have got Harry locked in his bedroom, she wrote furiously.

That's sort of funny.

Lucy laid a whack to the journal, even though she knew he couldn't feel it. A few other passengers on the train shot her weirded out looks. She couldn't care less.

It's so not funny!

It's not unexpected, either. They are muggles, after all. They think us wizards are freaks, unless they can use us for something.

Lucy didn't argue on that one. She knew that not all muggles were bad, but a lot of them were pretty damned annoying— especially the ones at Wool's Orphanage. She really did like Nathan and Emma but she shuddered to think what would happen if they found out she was a witch. Considering what'd just happened to Harry, she didn't feel like arguing in favor of muggles at the moment.

So what are you going to do about it? I'm fairly useful if it's homicide you're aiming for.

She couldn't help it; she chuckled slightly. Stupid Riddle and his stupid jokes.

Tempting, but no. Dumbledore would know it was me. Man's weird like that.

...Agreed. Then what are you going to do? Complain? Spare me.

You have no heart, Tom Riddle.

Well, yes, I'm in a journal at the moment, so I suppose you'd be correct.

Good God, you're in a sassy mood today. If you must know, I'm going to write to my favorite Weasley family, and they're going to work their magic.

Great, the blood traitors.

Lucy rolled her eyes. Yeah, she'd found out Riddle was that kind of Slytherin early on, but she couldn't bring herself to care. He didn't do much except complain about muggles and blood traitors. Thankfully he never brought up muggleborns, so she wouldn't have to fight him on that front. She couldn't exactly argue against his distrust of blood traitors and muggles, though.

Still, she had to mock him. "Great, the blood traitors," she said out loud in a high pitched voice, pulling a face at the journal. "Real nice input there, Riddle. Git."

I heard that. Real mature, Lucy.

It took both of them a few seconds to process that.

Wait... I heard that! Lucy, I heard that! Say something again!

"Dumbledore loves woolen socks?" She tried. Again, passengers started to scoot away from her. Damn them all; she wouldn't be taking the train for a long while.

Well, yes, that's not surprising at all. Lucy, do you know what this means? I'm gaining senses! I wonder if I'll be able to smell, next. Merlin, this is exhilarating!

Lucy chuckled, but she felt a little wary. She tried to push that feeling away. This was Riddle, and he was so clearly excited to have gained more senses. She supposed it had to be very boring existing in a journal all the time, with no interaction except those who wrote in it. Maybe that was why she wrote in it so often; she wanted to give him something to do. This was definitely the happiest she'd ever seen him act.

I bet. To think, all I have to do is bring up homicide and you brighten right up!

Ha ha. Sure. I think it's more because of us. The more you write in the diary, the stronger our connection grows, thus the more human I become. Thank you, Lucy— I never realized how boring it was before. Or if I did, I didn't acknowledge it.

Do you see the power of pen pals, Riddle?

I never thought I'd say this, but yes, I do. Go somewhere noisy sometime— I want to hear more. Have you thought about visiting Diagon Alley?

By myself? Not until now, but now that you've said it, I'm all for it. I'll go as soon as I know the Weasleys have rescued Harry.

Ugh. Potter. Can't you just send a letter and be done with it?

No, because if I die in Diagon Alley, how will I know my favorite orphan is safe?

Riddle didn't deign to answer that. He disliked Harry for some reason, and every time she brought him up, he'd change the subject. Plus, Lucy had a feeling he was busy celebrating his newfound sense.

She sent a letter off to the Weasleys as soon as she got home, and just to make Riddle happy, she brought the diary with on her quest to grease up all the doorknobs on the first floor of the orphanage. Jennifer caught her at one point and tried tattling.

"You're going to be in so much trouble," the girl taunted, staring at Lucy nastily.

"Karen, love, I will burn you," Lucy informed her, smiling serenely.

"Will you stop that!" Jennifer hissed. "I don't know why you think you're all that, now that you've gone to your freak school! You'll always be a freak, you know that, Lucy? A stupid little freak whose parents didn't even want to claim!"

"Well, I supposed I warned you," Lucy sighed, and she took out a lighter from her pocket. She nicked it from someone on the train awhile back, and she'd mostly been using it to entertain herself. Riddle told her she'd end up burning the place down, but she didn't care. She flipped the lighter open, letting the flame show, and then began walking toward Jennifer.

Jennifer took a step back, staring angrily at Lucy. "What are you doing? Put that away you psycho! Learn to take a joke!"

Is she really this scared of a little lighter? Lucy thought, laughing to herself. "C'mon, Penny, I warned you," she said, a little mockingly. "You're not scared of fire, are you? You sure like to talk big, but you wouldn't ever fight me, would you?"

"Lucy, I'm warning you—" Jennifer insisted, but her voice broke off at the end. She flattened herself against the wall. For a moment, while Lucy was standing right in front of her, she was so tempted to do it. To bring the lighter up to her hair and then just watch what happened. Surely Jennifer knew how to stop, drop, and roll? And how funny would it be, just to see it happen...

"I'm feeling rather cold at the moment," Lucy said, and she was surprised to note that her voice had taken on a sinister note to it. "Aren't you?"

"Stop it, please," Jennifer said desperately. She turned her head to the side, her chest rising and falling quickly with each breath. "I'll leave you alone, I swear, just stop it!"

"Are you going to cry?" Lucy said, mildly surprised to see Jennifer's eyes welling up with tears. She rolled her eyes and flipped the lighter shut, shoving it back into her pocket. "Learn to take a joke, Jenny."

She turned and started walking back to her room, unable to keep a few snickers from escaping along the way. She lay down on her stomach in bed and opened up the journal. She had a very important question that needed an immediate answer.

So do you think Centaurs look at horses weirdly? Like do they feel familial pride, or are they offended? What goes through their mind?

Lucy, you can be mighty scary if you set your mind to it.

For a good few seconds, Lucy had no idea what Riddle was talking about. Then she realized that he could hear everything around the diary, and she face palmed. Right. Well, she didn't see anything wrong with what she did. Jennifer tormented her for years. She was only getting a little payback— she didn't even touch the girl. She just used her words, like Jennifer did.

Jennifer's had it coming for years. I don't feel too bad.

I'm not saying you should. Are you sure you're a Hufflepuff?

Mhm. I'm loyal and hardworking. Toil? I'm unafraid of it.

That's fair. Although, I wonder, do you always sound like that? It's the first time I've heard you properly talk to someone else.

No, I was trying to be scary there. Not my fault Jennifer's a coward.

No. Not your fault at all. It's strange, I feel sort of proud.

Lucy smirked. Of course he was proud; Riddle was super edgy. He was probably hoping Lucy would become just as cynical as him. Alas, that would never happen; Wool's just happened to bring out the worst in her. Once she left for Hogwarts and made sure Harry was safe, she'd be back to her happy self.

Now, back to important matters. She picked up her pen:

So do you think Centaurs feel weird about horses?

Dear Lucy,

You were right— the Muggles had Harry locked up. We flew Dad's car out to get him— mum's positively furious with us, but I don't mind it. They were starving him! We had to do something. Anyway, I wish you could have come along with us, but it was all short notice. Besides I think the twins are still bitter that you're one of Rickett's girls. At least Harry's free from the Muggles.

Mum asks if you'd want to visit sometime. It's a bit of a full house, but you could floo over— maybe sleep in Ginny's room once in awhile if you'd like. Just say 'The Burrow' and think of us. It's nice that Harry's here but it feels off without at least you or Hermione. Oh, right, you can send Hedwig over here too. Harry's been itching to see her again. Nearly got us caught by his whale of an uncle. He thought he forgot Hedwig in his room, but he'd forgotten that you had her. The whale grabbed Harry's ankle and bloody near tore it off.

I'd ask how Wool's is going, but whenever I ask you always say 'boring'. So, I suppose I already know.

Come visit us. I mean it. Fred and George and I might fly another car if you don't.

Love, Ron

Lucy smiled as she read over the letter again. Now that Harry was safe, she could finally go to Diagon Alley with a peaceful mind. Truthfully she was excited to go by herself— she had no one to chaperone her or manage her time. She could learn how to use 'floo', whatever that was. Riddle would know.

She opened her journal and made to write it it, when she realized that he could hear her. "Hey Riddle, what's floo?" she asked him.

You step into a fireplace, say where you want to go very clearly, and then throw floo powder down. Why, are you planning to floo somewhere?

"Yeah, Ron's family invited me to visit them. I was thinking of going to Diagon Alley tomorrow and then, uh, flooing there later. That's such a weird word," she added that last part to herself. "Either way, there'll be lots of things for you to hear."

Excellent. Go to Diagon Alley first, and bring money. There's some books you should pick up, if you want to get any better at magic. And needless to say, bring your wand. They can't trace magic in Diagon Alley.

"Riddle, you are one smart cookie," She told him with a grin.

Kindly never call me a cookie again.

"Yeah, that's fair. How am I supposed to get money? I'm a broke orphan."

Check the crawlspace in the kitchen stores. There's a loose floorboard. I used to steal money and hide it there as a child.

"You know, it's so handy having a pocket-criminal," Lucy said fondly. Riddle replied with a rude scribbling. Laughing, she shut the journal. Time to check out the crawl space.

True to his word, she found the loose floorboard and pulled it back. The money was old, certainly, and a strange feeling came over her as she looked at it. It felt like proof, that the boy in the journal wasn't just some random spell lying to her. He really used to go to Wool's and he found out its secrets just as she did.

She picked up the notes and turned them over in her hands. How peculiar, holding the same notes as he did. They had found the same crawlspace to hide in when people were out looking for them. Lucy thumbed through the notes, counting them up. To her pleasure, Riddle had stored two hundred sixty pounds over the years.

She wondered why he left them there— maybe he meant to return, but never did. She wondered what happened to him. Obviously, he didn't know himself. He was only the fifteen year old version; whatever he did after the fact was anybody's guess. Mrs. Cole said Riddle worked in a shop until he died, but Lucy found that hard to believe. He was just so brilliant. It felt wrong to think that he would settle for a job as lowly as a shop clerk. Especially with how arrogantly he spoke.

Lucy stuffed the notes into her backpack then made her way out of the crawlspace. She was determined to find out more about this strange Tom Riddle— but she would have to do so subtly. Riddle warned her that he'd made plenty of enemies back in his day, and that his future self would have only made more along the way. How many people wanted their hands on that diary? She would have to keep its secrets close to her chest... and maybe, along the way, he would tell her his secrets like he promised. The books were already a step in the right direction.

She would solve the mystery of Tom Riddle. She'd just have to give it some time.

Unafraid of toil sounds about right, she thought to herself.

The next day, Lucy woke up bright and early, ready to go to Diagon Alley. She woke up too early— it was four in the morning, and when she had gotten ready for the day, Riddle wrote her and told her there was no way the shops would be open yet so she should have slept in awhile longer. So now she had to wait an agonizing two hours, during which Riddle went radio silent just to annoy her.

"You are a cruel, cruel boy, Riddle," Lucy told the diary as soon as the clock struck six.

I've got to amuse myself somehow. You have your wand? And your backpack? Make sure the money is in your pocket, not the bag.

"Yes, everything's in order, I've only had two hours to prepare," she said dryly.

I think I'm rubbing off on you. Good. Now go to the Leaky Cauldron– you remember where that is, correct?

Lucy didn't think there was any way she could forget what the Leaky Cauldron looked like. It had been her first real glimpse into the wizarding world. But Professor McGonagall hadn't walked her there— they had apparated outside of it.

"She apparated us there," she said, shaking her head. "You'll have to show me."

It looks that way. We'll have to find an easier place for you to put the diary. I don't like the thought of you carrying it in the open all the time– you might drop it.

"I could put it in my backpack," she suggested.

Too high a chance of it getting stolen. I'll think of something. Just start walking, and read street signs out loud. I'll point you there.

She slung her backpack over her back, pleased that McGonagall's charm was stronger than ever. It was mostly empty, apart from a few healing potions she had to brew for Snape's class. The other professors had been kind and only assigned book-work— Snape was a peculiar kind of cruel, and he assigned potions for them to brew, even if they had muggle residences that wouldn't allow it.

She started her walk out the door of Wool's Orphanage. She waved at Nathan as she left and to her delight, Jennifer didn't say anything; she gave Lucy a half-scared, half-angry look. The angry silence was like music to her ears.

She did as Riddle instructed and read the street names aloud, and in turn he'd draw an arrow toward where she'd need to go. It was all very useful and once again, she celebrated that such a neat diary came into her hands. She was incredibly lucky— maybe this was the world's way of giving her a break after such a tension-filled year.

Some people gave her strange looks as she read aloud the street signs. One woman kindly asked her if she was lost, to which Lucy replied with a cheerful, "Absolutely!" And continued on her way.

She reached the Leaky Cauldron at last. It didn't take her long at all, and for once she paid careful attention to each direction so that she could arrive faster next time. Nobody questioned her when she moved through the Wizarding bar. In fact, some people waved jovially at her. She waved back but kept moving– Riddle wouldn't be pleased if she dawdled.

"Hey Riddle, what's the pattern for this?" She said quietly to the journal, standing in front of the wall.

The third brick up, two across. Tap it three times. And don't just talk out loud in public— you can look like a maniac in muggle spaces all you want, but you need to have a respectable image in the wizarding world.

Lucy rolled her eyes, resisting the urge to say 'yes, mum' in fear that he'd abandon her for the rest of the trip. She did as he said and soon enough, the wall opened up into an archway. For the second time in her life, she'd arrived at Diagon Alley.

Her eyes were wide as she stopped to take it all in again. For it being early in the morning, it was certainly crowded. She narrowly dodged a witch pushing a cart filled with mewling kneazles. She retreated to the side of a building for now.

What now? She asked him.

Go to Gringotts and convert the muggle money— you shouldn't need an account for that.

Lucy had never gone into Gringotts before. She grinned and felt excited at the thought. It wasn't hard to find the building— it was a pure white structure that was leagues bigger than the other shops. She headed up the marble steps, and she had to remember not to stare at the goblin by the door. She hadn't seen one of those before, either.

There had to be a hundred or more goblins inside, sitting behind counters on high stools. Lucy went to the first free desk she could find. She thought she would have had more trouble seeing over the counter last year– hopefully she had gotten taller. The goblin peered over at the girl, arching an eyebrow.

"Good morning, sir," she began politely. He looked surprised at her manners, and she found that incredibly sad. "If it's not too much trouble, could you please convert this into galleons?"

She had the notes at the ready. The goblin betrayed no emotion, but his response was perhaps less cold than she expected it would be. "Certainly," he said, and she laid the notes on the table. His long fingers worked quickly and in less than a minute, he presented her with a pouch of coins. It was quite heavy, and she quickly moved it to her backpack. Once again, thank god for the lightening charm.

She thanked him and turned to leave when the goblin asked, "Do you have an account here at Gringotts, Ms...?"

"Lucille Rochester," she replied, turning back around. "And no— I suppose I'd need a guardian to open one, wouldn't I?"

"Not at all," He looked disturbed at the notion. She felt like the muggle world could take some tips from Gringotts. "It won't take long at all. And should you have money left over, it's more convinent."

Lucy beamed. A wizarding account, all for herself? It sounded like a dream. "That sounds wonderful, thank you, sir," she said eagerly.

He took out a few pages of paperwork and handed her a quill. True to his word, it didn't take long— it asked her basic questions like her name, address, security questions, et cetera. She finished it quickly, and he took the paperwork. He procured her with a golden key. "Vault eight hundred and nine," he told her. "You can make deposits from here, but any withdrawals will have to be in person."

"Thank you, sir," she said happily, stowing the key away in her pocket. Riddle was right- she'd have to find a better way of holding her valuables.

She left the bank, practically skipping. She stopped by the stairwell and pulled out her journal, flipping it open.

That went well. See? Acting like a sane person has rewards.

Haha, like that will stop me. Now what? You said something about books?

I'd have liked you to go to Knockturn Alley, but I don't trust your wand work enough yet. I'd rather not be stolen by a hag. Go to Flourish and Blotts— the mature section. No one should question you as long as you act like you're meant to be there.

"Don't I always?" She mused to herself. She closed the journal and set off down the alley. She channeled her inner Slytherin, and she straightened her back up as she walked down the street confidently, like she visited Diagon Alley every day. She must have mastered the look because people constantly moved out of her way to let her through.

Lucy reached Flourish and Blotts, mentally groaning when she saw none other than Gilderoy Lockhart in there. Anthony's words rang in her ears. The shop wasn't officially opened yet— it looked like they were setting up for something. But remembering Riddle's words, she walked in anyway and went straight up to an employee. She went to an older wizard, in hopes that he'd be more sympathetic to her than Lockhart.

"Would you mind if I picked up some books?" She asked the wizard. She shot a slightly scornful look at Lockhart. "I don't think it's right that you've got to lock down the shop for one person."

The wizard looked at her like she had given him a million galleons. "Certainly!" He said warmly, clasping her on the shoulder. "Young lady, the world needs more minds like you."

They shared a look of deep, poetic respect.

Then Lucy got bored and went over to the mature section. "All right, I'm here, what kind of books am I looking for?" She asked Riddle quietly.

There should be one called The Dark Arts: Unearthed. Any edition is fine— I'd prefer you get the fourth one, since it's the one I found the most informing. How many editions are there now?

"Eighteen," Lucy said.

Eighteen? Merlin, what have I missed? I would give anything to look at them myself...

"It would make things a lot easier," she admitted.

Lucy, I wonder...

She stared cautiously at the journal. He wondered what? Because to her, it sounded like he wanted a way to see outside the diary. "What's that, Riddle?" She said carefully.

It's just— I have a way of showing you my memories. All you'd need to do is put your hand on the page. I have a theory, that maybe if you put your hand on the page and think about letting me see, might it work?

"I don't know, Riddle..."

You want to become a better witch, don't you? I'm the best tutor you could have. And no, that is not me being arrogant— it's a statement of fact. I'm willing to show you all aspects of magic, not just the 'light' side. That's where most wizards go wrong. They think there's such a thing as 'good' and 'evil', 'dark' and 'light'. In reality, there's only power. You just need to have the determination to seek it.

Lucy felt like she had heard that somewhere before. She thought hard, but she couldn't think of it. Quirrell came to mind— but honestly, that night was a blur. Everything she tried to think of it, the image of Quirrell dying would appear before her eyes and she'd have to hastily retreat from her thoughts.

She begrudgingly felt like Riddle had a point. She knew a lot about magic— all the extra book work she'd done last year made sure of it. And maybe it was pompous of her, but she felt like she had a lot of magic within her, swimming through her veins. It made her restless, most days. Made her want to cause trouble. She felt like maybe, if she knew how, she could find a way to let it all out and become the best witch she could be.

What Riddle was proposing wasn't anything new. She wanted to be good, but maybe he was right— there was no using wanting to be anything unless she had the power to choose.

She chewed on her lip. It was just too tempting– she couldn't let an opportunity like this just slip away. Riddle came from Wool's Orphanage, just like she did, so in a way, he understood. They were using each other; he wanted to become more than a memory inside a journal, and she wanted to have his knowledge. Maybe, instead of using each other, they could help each other.

"Fine," Lucy said at last. If this ended badly, she could always throw the journal out. But for some unfathomable reason, she trusted Riddle to follow through with his promise. She placed her hand on the cover of the journal. She thought very hard at him.

Come on out, Riddle. Come to the other side of the bridge, she thought. You'll have to go back eventually, of course— but for now, just come and take a look.

Then, she opened the journal up.

She could see a smoggy gray blob, slowly beginning to take form. She couldn't help but feel curious as she watched it shape into two legs, a torso, arms, legs, and then finally a head. There were no distinguishing features, but the figure tilted his head at Lucy before pointing at the books on the shelf.

She stared at him dumbly before it registered that she was supposed to move now. "Oh, right," she muttered, and she grabbed the fourth edition.

Whatever form Riddle was now, he couldn't speak. She supposed that made sense– she'd only been writing in the journal for a month now after what had to be half a century of no contact. She flipped through the pages and sometimes he held up a hand to stop her so that he could read what was on the page.

It was an odd sensation, feeling his presence at her back, peering over her shoulder. He felt freezing cold, and the vaporous, gray form he had made it hard to concentrate on him. Looking at him felt wrong— like he shouldn't be there but inexplicably, he was.

It took them a good hour to go through all the volumes. Lucy was beginning to feel exhausted. On the flip side, Riddle's form was becoming less malleable as the smoke bonded together more. She could still see through him, but his overall 'texture' stayed in one place.

He decided on the fourth, ninth, and fifteenth edition. He then went over to the magazines and gestured for her to take a Witch Weekly. She stared at him blankly for a second then shook her head, deciding not to question him. God, she was so tired...

She barely held back a yawn as she brought her books to the cashier. It was the same wizard as before, and he arched an eyebrow at Lucy's supply of books. Riddle was at her back again, and although he didn't have a face, she could tell that he was glowering at the man.

"They're for my dad," she said in a slightly exasperated tone. "He's a historian— for some reason he thinks these books will lead him to uncovering the lost Goblin Wars. Oh, well— at least he lets me get something for myself," she added, smiling at Witch Weekly.

The wizard chuckled and put the books in a bag for her. He left the magazine out. "That's very kind of you, getting books for your father. Just make sure you keep them wrapped up— paranoid folk around here might get the wrong idea."

"Of course. Thank you, sir," Lucy said, smiling at the man.

As she headed toward the exit, she noticed Lockhart's back was turned. He was gloating to some poor, harassed looking employee about his books. She was trying not to cause any trouble today, but she couldn't just leave Lockhart feeling happy. Especially when he was bothering some poor bloke trying to do his job. She had a duty to Anthony to inconvenience Lockhart at every turn.

Riddle shook his head furiously at her. She paid him no mind and pulled out her wand. Duro, she thought, and to her satisfaction a subtle gray jet shot out and hit the man in the shoe. She ducked out of the shop just as she heard Lockhart shout, "What just happened?!"

Riddle's form disappeared and she watched as words appeared in the journal.

You have no restraint, do you, Lucy?

"It was a business matter," Lucy said solemnly. "I had to do it. For my mum."

Lucille. I know full well you don't know who your mother is.

"Mummy Anthony," she said, like it was obvious. "For some reason, I think you two would get along. He's around your age, I think."

Riddle didn't respond. That pretty much showed her his sentiment. She laughed, and it turned into a yawn. She reached up to rub at her eyes.

Go get food or something, so you don't pass out. We still have more things to pick up.

"Yeah, I know. Are you planning on coming out again?"

No. I feel... tired, I suppose is the best word. The noise helps.

Lucy made a mental note of that. It looked like interactions made Riddle stronger. The stronger he became, the longer he could take a spectral form. Good to know.

She took his advice and set off to find a shop. It was hard to spot one that wasn't a candy store- she had plenty of sweets at the orphanage that she'd taken from Hogwarts. She weaved in between wizards, keeping her eyes carefully trained on the shops as she passed by. She finally found a plain looking restaurant near the entrance of Knockturn Alley.

The woman at the front desk looked surprised to see a customer walk in. She was a tiny, black haired woman with sharp blue eyes that crinkled at the edges with age. "I hope you're here to buy something. I've had enough of these shady arseholes thinking this is a meet-up for all their ruddy deals," she said severely.

"Ma'am, I just really want a sandwich," Lucy said, too tired to fire back with a wicked reply.

The woman, though still suspicious, didn't look as angry as before. "I see. I'll get that for you." She turned to start preparing it.

Lucy arched an eyebrow at her back. "Aren't you going to ask what I want?"

"No," the woman said shortly. "I know what you want. Something to pick you up and keep you going for the day. Let me do my job, kid."

"You know, I feel like you like making sandwiches but it's quite hard to tell."

"I'm not known for my manners," the woman said. She cut open a toasted bun and with a flick of her wand, ingredients started piling on neatly. She grabbed a shaker filled with a sparkling blue substance and sprinkled it over the sandwich. Lucy noted with interest that it seemed to glitter in the air.

She then looked around the empty shop and remarked, almost sarcastically, "Looks like you're not known for anything."

It was a rude thing to say, but the woman actually snorted and shot Lucy an appraising look. "You'd be right there. The night crowd comes in before midnight, usually before they're about to do their dark deeds. Oh, so sorry, your young ears should never hear such a thing."

"The more you insult me, the more I like you," Lucy declared. She looked at the shelf of ingredients the woman had; there were different shakers and potions, all with some mysterious magical property to them. "So you make magic sandwiches?"

"Technically it's illegal to sell potions without a license. Also technically, putting magical properties in food doesn't count as a potion." The woman had a self-satisfying smirk on her face as she lay a plate before Lucy. "So what brings you here all by your lonesome, kid? And don't give me that 'your parents are outside' nonsense. I know a loner when I see one."

Okay that one was a sick burn. Lucy didn't bother trying to explain that she wasn't exactly alone— Riddle was likely paying careful attention to the conversation from the diary— and instead she took a bite out of the sandwich. As expected, it tasted delicious and just from one bite, she felt her weariness creep away.

"I'm very bored," she said once she finished chewing. "Picked up some books, then I'm flooing to my favorite bunch of gingers. So what's your name, ma'am? 'Cause I'm likely going show up here again."

"Fair excuse," the woman nodded. "I go by Malady."

"Oh, if we're doing made-up names, I want to be Strongarm," Lucy said eagerly.

The woman shot her a flat look. "Fine, if you want to be a git about it. I'm Mallory. That name doesn't leave this shop, are we clear?"

"I don't know why you're being all threatening, I'm literally twelve," Lucy told her with a slight grin. "I'm Lucy. But I'd really like it if you called me Strongarm in third person."

"That's absolutely not going to happen."

Now that Mallory was satisfied Lucy wasn't here to cause mischief, she left for the back room. Lucy kept eating her sandwich and pulled out the diary, flipping it open. At once, Riddle's vaporous form appeared and he inspected their surroundings for a few seconds before he disappeared again.

Good. You haven't been sold to Dark wizards yet.

If this lady keeps making these slamming sandwiches, I might just let her sell me to them.

...Wonderful. Hurry up— it's getting late, but you should at least buy a pouch for the diary before you leave.

Aye aye, captain.

Lucy was done anyway. She shut her diary and looked up to find Mallory giving her a curious look. Lucy almost jumped out of her skin— when had the woman come back?

"You're a weird kid," Mallory told her.

Lucy scowled and put her diary on her lap. She didn't like the extra attention Mallory had given it. She wouldn't be happy if Riddle got kidnapped, and she had the feeling he wouldn't either. "I don't know how I'll be able to control my ego after I leave," she said in such a dry tone that Riddle would surely be proud of her.

Mallory snorted. "I think you'll manage. That'll be two sickles, kid."

Lucy reached into her pouch and found that the sickles were all at the bottom. That was way too much effort. She took out two galleons instead and placed them on the counter. "Keep the change."

Mallory gave her a shocked look, but Lucy wanted to start moving before her newfound energy died away. The woman opened her mouth to respond but she was already out the door, heading toward a Quills and Parchment store. They'd surely have some easier way to carry her belongings.

She opened her diary on the way, so Riddle could come out and look around with her. He was much faster than her and he came across a black satchel she could sling around her shoulder. He pointed at it and then at the register, then kept looking around.

The woman at the counter smiled appreciatively when she saw the satchel. "That's a good pick, you must have a taste for fashion."

"Oh, you know it," Lucy said, and she couldn't keep a grin from spreading across her face. Riddle looked like he was sighing as he put his hand to his forehead.

"Now this has a unique feature. You'll be the only one able to open it. All you have to do is put your wand to it, then say a password."

"Sick! Thanks, ma'am."

Lucy took the satchel and wore it immediately, putting the diary into it. It was a bit small to carry anything else so she'd have to learn that extension charm McGonagall put in her backpack.

Now that she was done, she headed toward the Floo center. Riddle walked, or more like glided, beside her. She laughed as he floated through unsuspecting peoples' bodies until he snapped his head toward her. He didn't have a face, but she could feel his glare.

"I think today was successful, don't you?" She said happily.

Riddle tilted his head, half-shrugging in a 'meh' sort of way.

"Oh come on. We got books, opened a bank account, had a great sandwich, and most importantly we've formed a friendship to last a lifetime."

He sighed again, exasperated. She grinned, "Only joking. Once we get to the Weasleys, you can take a book-nap or whatever the heck you do in there. What do you do in there? Can you see letters and stuff? What if I drew a picture? Would you be able to see it?"

Riddle stared at her and then promptly disappeared, ending the conversation there.

"Rude," she huffed.

She reached the Floo center and she took a few minutes to observe the other wizards. From what she saw, they'd step in the fireplace, square their shoulders and then throw the powder down as they shouted their destination. Only again, she was stricken by how magic it all was, seeing people teleport before her eyes.

She was glad Riddle couldn't see how excited she was to try it. She stepped into the fireplace, practically bouncing with excitement. A wizarding attendant gave her a cautious look as she grabbed a handful of Floo powder.

"Young lady, do you know what you're doing?" The wizard asked her in concern.

"Nope!" She replied cheerfully, and she threw the powder down saying, "The Burrow!"

It was like she had just been sucked down a whirlpool, spinning around too fast to be natural. Although that was the point, wasn't it? It was magic. She found the whole sensation rather thrilling, and the green flames whirling around her were absolutely wicked. Her face was suddenly cold and tingly, and she could see a variety of different rooms all whizzing by until she finally stopped spinning.

She saw Percy sitting, aghast, on the couch as she fell straight out of the fireplace and face-first to the floor.

There was a thundering of footsteps above her before loads of Weasleys flooded into the room. First came Ron, beaming at her, followed closely by Harry, Fred and George, then Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.

"Lucy! I had a feeling you'd show up today!" Ron beamed at her.

Harry gave her an impressed look as he grabbed her hand, pulling her to her feet. "You came here all by yourself?"

Mrs. Weasley agreed with that sentiment. "You came here all by yourself?" She said, horrified.

"Oh I've been in Diagon Alley all day," Lucy explained. Okay, that didn't sound much better, she admitted.

"Wicked!" Fred and George chorused.

"Not wicked!" Percy glared at the pair of them. He pointed a wand at Lucy's soot-covered form and said, "Scourgify!" In an instant, her clothes were clean.

George gave his mother an affronted look. "Oh, so when he uses magic outside of school it's fine?"

Mrs. Wealsey's lips thinned but she didn't reply. She looked at Lucy and smiled kindly. "While it was dangerous, I'm glad you've come to visit, dear. Next time, write us and we'll meet you halfway. You're just in time for lunch— you and Harry are both so skinny!"

She retreated into the kitchen. Lucy stood frozen, stunned at the kindness by this woman whose home she showed up at unannounced. Harry gave her an understanding look. "They're great, right?" He said happily.

"So great," she said fervently.

Ron's ears turned red, but he looked very pleased they thought so. He slung an arm over Lucy's shoulders and pulled her into the kitchen, asking her excitedly, "So what'd you do in Diagon Alley? How was the Floo? I knew you'd make it..."

Lucy began to recount her tale, all the while a warm feeling grew in her chest, not unlike the first night she spent at Hogwarts. She could feel it, deep within her—

This was going to be a great year.