There laying right in front of her, on her new desk was a book. And not just any book, a plain, old dark leathery book just begging her to open it. Her distress was very evident by the way she gently cradled the book, silently stroking its spine with her left hand. Her middle finger unconsciously following it's edges, reaching one of the pieces of metal protecting it's delicate corners. She could have sworn she felt a warmth radiating off of it, somehow gentle and inviting, just like other books she held with her unusually warm hands.

And still she was weary, her last book hadn't been kind, not in the slightest. In all honesty it was terrifying. Horrifying how a 19 year old adult was sucked into a book. Or at least she assumed it was a book. Her friends had finally convinced her to read the books instead of just watching those 'damn' movies as her best friend liked to say. She wasn't an avid reader, not by a long shot, even with her childhood wish for more. Movies were her go to solution to living her dreams of adventure, but still Ve had convinced her that Ender's Game was much better in the book than the movie. Her friend wasn't wrong. So when Ve told her she was missing out when she has yet to read Harry Potter, she thought why not? If she didn't like them she'd just stop, she'd seen the movies anyway. Imagine her surprise when she woke up in the story, having no clue has how she got there, so yes she was head it at to open another book. Especially in a magical world that has terrifying books that gladly scream in your face in the restricted section of Hogwarts.

...Now that she thinks about it, she couldn't help but wonder what that book might do if she screamed back.

...

So yes she's a bit worried about opening another book, least she ends up in another part of another fictional world, least of all fiction's fiction! She doesn't want to be romanced by a Troll! Damn it!

...

The least she could do was open the poor thing right? Its not like she has to read it, just ... open it. Its not like she could relish in her new fear of books! Its not this books fault that she got sucked in, literally. Its not like she could scream and run away from it! It wasn't a spider or some rat that normally terrified females, no she was (ir)rationally questioning every book. Hell she was going to Hogwarts for Christ'— Merlin's sake. God, no Merlin this was going to take getting used to. All she could say was how grateful she's at least in the body, or at least she is, a 'muggleborn' not a pureblood. She cant change her swear words over night.

She was getting off track, again.

Hesitantly and gently she opened the book. Reveling, not words, but tan crumpled pages that have defiantly 'been brought into the shower one to many times. She stroked the ruff pages, carful not to rip the delicate and tormented paper. 'A journal' she concluded. Wondering if the pervious owner even cared for the unused object.

She knew how easy it was to discard objects, even drop them without a care in the world, but for her every found object was precious, a treasure in short. Some of her favorite pens and pencils were carelessly discarded on the cold, hard ground. She found them and she proudly treasured them, refusing to let them out of her sight. Sure if she saw someone drop said items she'd return them, but the others were hers to protect and hers to treasure.

Staring at the dirty blank page, she felt sorry for it. There was no way she could use it for notes, that's what her notebooks were for. After all it had blank pages, and she desperately needs lines, without them her words, move so to speak. More than the whip from Indiana Jones. So notes were out of the question, but the book still felt so lonely. Maybe it was just the blank pages that gave off that feeling.

Rolling up her sleeves and picking up her mechanical pencil, she started writing...

Dear Diary, ...