The Very Secret Diary

John and Castiel returned from their Christmas holiday and, almost immediately, Castiel was whisked away by Gabriel.

'I think he must have caught my flu,' John said. 'He didn't look well on the train. Hope he didn't though, it was awful.'

'Really that bad?' Sherlock asked?

'Yeah and it kept coming and going. It was mostly all right, but Christmas Day I couldn't get rid of the taste of overcooked cabbage.'

'I see.'

Sherlock was silent for a moment while John got a better grip on his trunk. He took a few steps into the Entrance Hall and was suddenly on the floor, looking bewildered. Sherlock looked at him incredulously.

'You've only been here five minutes!'

'Yeah, yeah, are you going to help me up or what?'

Sherlock hauled him to his feet and, once again, helped John up to the hospital wing.

'You should get a walking stick. I might not be there to help next time,' Sherlock grunted.'

'Or this place should get a lift.'

'A what?'

'Never mind.'

Gabriel met them coming out of the hospital wing looking significantly less worried than when he'd got off the train.

'How's he doing?' John asked.

'Oh don't worry about him, he'll be fine. Your leg?' he asked, nodding at John.

'Yeah. Madam Pomfrey'll fix it.'

'Maybe Sherlock should learn to fix it.'

Gabriel smiled and walked off.

Madam Pomfrey was not happy.

I told you to be careful with that leg, Watson,' she said.

'I did, it just sort of – happened.'

'John, is that you?' a voice said from behind a curtain.

The curtain pulled back and a girl-sized car appeared, staring at him with glowing yellow eyes. His jaw dropped as he recognised her.

'Hermione?' he gasped. 'You- you're a cat!'

She grimaced.

'Tell you later,' she said.

Sherlock had stopped listening and tried to sneak down to the other end of the room, looking for Castiel.

'Sherlock, leave him alone,' John called. 'I already told you, he's got the flu.'

Sherlock stopped, but didn't turn back.

'I was with him on the train, he'll be fine.'

Sherlock reluctantly turned away, back to John while Madam Pomfrey fixed his leg.

Hermione remained in the hospital wing for several weeks, causing a flurry of rumour at her disappearance. Everyone thought she had been attacked and filed past the hospital wing, trying to catch a glimpse of her. She was visited every evening by the boys as they brought her that day's homework.

'If I'd sprouted whiskers, I'd take a break from work,' said Ron, tipping a stack of books onto Hermione's bedside table.

'Don't be silly, Ron, I've got to keep up.'

All six of them were there, Sherlock on another bed with Castiel helping him with Potions. Unfortunately, it didn't seem to be going well and Castiel gave up, snapping his book shut. John frowned at him worriedly as he came over looking frustrated.

'Don't worry, you'll get it,' he said kindly.

'I don't suppose you have any new leads?' Hermione asked in a whisper so Madam Pomfrey wouldn't hear.

'Nothing,' Harry said gloomily.

'I was so sure it was Malfoy,' Ron complained.

'And I told you that it wasn't likely,' John said, rolling his eyes.

'What's that?' Harry asked suddenly, pointing at something gold sticking out from under Hermione's pillow.

'Just a Get Well card,' she said, hastily trying to poke it out of sight. Ron was too quick for her and pulled it out. He flicked it open and read 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 Defence League and five times winner of Witch Weekly's Most-Charming-Smile Award.'

'Wow. Humble,' John whistled.

'You sleep with this under your pillow?' Ron said, disgusted.

Hermione was spared answering by Madam Pomfrey sweeping over with her evening dose of medicine.

'Is Lockhart the smarmiest bloke you've ever met, or what?' Ron said to Harry and John as they started up the stairs to Gryffindor Tower. John stopped as he heard a noise from the floor above. It came again, this time harder and the others heard it too.

'That's Filch,' Harry muttered as they hurried up the stairs, pausing out of sight and listening hard.

'You don't think someone else has been attacked?' Ron said tensely.

They stood still, heads inclined towards Filch's voice, which sounded 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 receded and they heard a distant door slam.

Once they were sure he'd gone, they looked around the corner and immediately saw what he had been shouting about. A great flood of water stretched over half the corridor, and it looked as if it was seeping from under the door of Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. Now Filch had stopped shouting they could hear Myrtle's wails echoing off the bathroom walls.

'Now what's up with her?' said Ron.

'Let's go and see,' said Harry, hitching up his robes. They stepped through the water to the door bearing is 'Out of Order' sign, ignoring it as always, and entered.

Moaning Myrtle was crying, if possible, louder and harder than ever before. She seemed to be hiding down her usual toilet. The floor and walls were all soaking wet.

'What's up, Myrtle?' Harry asked.

'Who's that?' Myrtle glugged miserably. 'Come to throw something else at me?'

Harry waded across to her cubicle and said, 'Why would I throw something at you?'

'Don't ask me,' Myrtle shouted, emerging with a wave of yet more water. '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,' Harry said reasonably. 'I mean, it'd just go right through you, wouldn't it?'

Myrtle puffed herself up and shrieked, 'Let's all throw books ant 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!'

'Sorry, Myrtle, Harry doesn't think sometimes but he just wants to help. Who threw it at you?' John said, trying to placate her.

'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,' Myrtle told them. 'It's over there, it got washed out.'

John looked over to where Myrtle was pointing and a wave of nausea nearly knocked him off his feet. A small, thin book lay on the ground under the sink, its shabby black cover sopping wet. John stepped back and his heart started beating very fast, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from the book. His breath caught in his throat as Harry went to grab it, however Ron threw his arm out and stopped him.

'What?' Harry said.

'Are you mad?' said Ron. 'It could be dangerous.'

'Dangerous?' Harry laughed. 'Come off it, how could it be dangerous?'

'It could be,' John said breathlessly.

'Yeah, you'd be surprised,' Ron said, looking at the book apprehensively. 'Some of the books the Ministry's confiscated – Dad's told me – there were some that burned your eyes out. And everyone who read Sonnets of a Sorcerer spoke in limericks for the rest of their lives. And some witch in Bath had a book that you could never stop reading! You just had to go around with your nose in it, trying to do everything one-handed.'

'All right, I've got the point,' said Harry.

John stood, paralyzed as Harry ducked around Ron and picked the book up off the floor. He thought his heart might stop altogether when Harry opened it. Ron approached cautiously and read over Harry's shoulder.

'I know that name… T.M. Riddle got an award for special services to the school fifty years ago.'

John's head went foggy at the mention of T.M. Riddle and he nearly lost his balance.

'He never wrote in it. It's completely blank,' Harry said. 'John, come look at this.'

'No way, keep that thing away from me.'

Both Harry and Ron looked at him in surprise.

'Are you ok?'

'John?'

John shook his head vigorously and barged out of the room, bumping into Sherlock on the way out. Sherlock grabbed him by the shoulders to steady him.

'John, are you all right?' he asked.

John felt his chest loosen up.

'Yeah. Yeah, I was just… Harry and Ron found something. I have to go…'

John walked off unsteadily and Sherlock carried on into the bathroom.

'What did you find?' Sherlock asked. He didn't wait for a reply and took the book from Harry.

'A diary. Fifty years old. Bought on Vauxhall Road, so must have belonged to a Muggle-born. Why's it wet?'

Ron blinked a few times in surprise.

'Someone tried to flush it,' he said.

'It's blank, why would someone try and flush it?'

'No idea,' said Ron.

'Either way, it's blank. I don't see any way that this can help us right now.'

'Well, I'll keep hold of it. Just in case,' Harry said, taking it back and pocketing it.

Hermione left the hospital wing, de-whiskered, tail-less and fur-free, at the beginning of February. On her first night back in Gryffindor Tower, Harry showed her the book and told her how they found it.

'Oooh, it might have hidden powers,' Hermione said enthusiastically, taking the diary and looking at it closely. John was sat a safe distance away watching them queasily.

'If it has, it's hiding them very well,' said Ron. 'Maybe it's shy. I don't know why you don't chuck it, Harry.'

'It must be important; why else would someone try to flush it?' Sherlock said from behind Ron.

'Do you think you could not sneak up on me like that? And if I remember, you thought it was worthless too. What's wrong with your common room, anyway?' Ron grumbled.

'I did not say that it was worthless. I said that I didn't see how it could help.'

'I wish I knew why someone tried to chuck it,' Harry said, 'and I wouldn't mind knowing what Riddle got a special award for either.'

'Could've been anything,' said Ron. 'Maybe he got thirty O. or saved a teacher from the giant squid.'

'Why do you make getting thirty O. sound like a bad thing?' Hermione said indignantly. Ron considered it for a moment.

'You're right, it doesn't have to be that. Maybe he murdered Myrtle, that would've done everyone a favour…'

'That's not even funny, Ron,' John frowned.

Ron rolled his eyes.

'Calm down, it's just a joke.'

John raised his eyebrows.

'Telling me that it's a joke doesn't make it any funnier.'

'All right, sorry.'

'Wait a second, can I see that?' Sherlock asked, motioning for the diary. Hermione passed it to him.

This diary is fifty years old,' he said.

'So?' asked Ron.

'Malfoy said that the Chamber of Secrets opened fifty years ago…' Sherlock said slowly. 'T.M. Riddle got an award for special services to the school fifty years ago. What if he got it for catching the heir of Slytherin?'

'Of course! His diary could tell us everything: where the Chamber is, how to open it, what sort of creature lives in it. And obviously the person who's behind the attacks this time wouldn't want this lying around, would they?' Hermione said excitedly.

'That's great, Hermione, but there's nothing written in this diary.'

But Hermione whipped her wand out and grabbed the diary back from Sherlock.

'It might be invisible ink!' she said.

She tapped the diary three times and said, 'Aparecium!'

Nothing happened but Hermione wasn't dissuaded. She shoved her hand into her bag and pulled out what looked like a bright red eraser.

'It's a Revealer, I got it in Diagon Alley,' she said.

She rubbed hard on 'January 1st', but, again, nothing happened.

'I'm telling you, there's nothing to find in there,' said Ron. 'Riddle just got a diary for Christmas and couldn't be bothered filling it in.'

'Well why do you think someone tried to get rid of it then?' Hermione snapped.

None of them had any ideas.

John couldn't explain, even to himself, why he was having such an aversion to the diary, and couldn't understand why Harry didn't just throw it away. It was totally blank, so what was the point? But he kept picking it up and flicking through the pages as if this time it would be different. So determined was he to figure out the diary that he dragged them all down to the trophy room to futilely stare at Riddle's special award. It did say the details of why it had been given to him ('Good thing too, or it'd be bigger and I'd still be polishing it,' said Ron). However, they did find Riddle's name on an old medal for Magical Merit, and on a list of old Head Boys.

'He sounds like Percy,' Ron said, wrinkling his nose in disgust.

'Or Mycroft,' Sherlock added.

John wandered off, over to the Hogwarts coat of arms that was hanging against the back wall. Sherlock saw him go and followed him over, leaving Ron and Hermione to argue about the kind of person that would be top of their class – all four of them leaving Harry to stare at the burnished gold shield.

'I keep feeling like I've heard his name somewhere,' John murmured so only Sherlock could hear, reaching out to brush his fingers against the Slytherin crest.

'Really? Where would you have heard it?'

'No idea.'

John paused for a moment staring at the crest.

'How's Castiel?' he said, turning away from it.

'He's fine,' Sherlock said. 'We'll see him in Charms.'

'I hope so.'

Sherlock shook his head and wondered what was going through John's head. An image of Castiel flashed in front of his eyes, leaving him disoriented and slightly dizzy as they headed back to lessons.

The sun began to shine on Hogwarts castle again and the atmosphere inside the castle became hopeful. There had been no more attacks since those on Justin and Nearly-Headless Nick and Madam Pomfrey was pleased to report that the Mandrakes were becoming moody and secretive, meaning that they were fast leaving childhood. Castiel also excitedly announced that Madam Pomfrey was allowing him to help out more. Since she was occupied with the potion, Castiel was allowed to deal with more of the smaller afflictions.

Perhaps the heir of Slytherin had lost their nerve. It was getting increasingly risky 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 of Hufflepuff didn't take this cheerful view. He was still convinced that Harry was the guilty one despite being told several times by Sherlock, and even once by Castiel, that it wasn't Harry. He held to the theory that Harry had 'given himself away' at the Duelling Club. Peeves wasn't helping matters either. He kept popping up in crowded corridors singing 'Oh Potter, you rotter…' now with a dance routine to match.

On top of that, Gilderoy Lockhart was prancing around the school, convinced he had made the attacks stop himself and told anyone who would listen (as well as those that wouldn't). As the Gryffindors were lining up for Transfiguration, they overheard him telling Professor McGonagall so.

'I don't think there'll be any more trouble, Minerva,' he said, tapping his nose knowingly and winking. 'I think the Chamber has been locked up for good this time. The culprit must have known it was only a matter of time before I caught them. Rather sensible to stop now before I came down hard on them.

'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 now just the thing…'

John shuddered at this. Goodness only knew what he had in mind, but knowing him it would be something terribly tacky and awful all round.

Lockhart's idea of a morale-booster became clear at breakfast on February 14th. John had overslept following a restless night and, accompanied by Harry, hurried down to the Great Hall slightly late. He came to a jarring halt as he entered the room. The walls were covered in large, lurid pink flowers and heart-shaped confetti was falling from the pale-blue ceiling. They went over to the Gryffindor table where Ron, was sitting looking sickened and Hermione had come over rather giggly. Castiel was also there, looking dazed and slightly flushed. Sherlock as nowhere to be seen.

'What's going on?' Harry asked, sitting down.

'I'm not sure I even want to know,' John said, the bright pink colours already stinging his eyes.

Ron pointed at the teachers' table, too disgusted to speak. Lockhart, who was wearing horrible pink robes to match the decorations, was waving for silence. The teachers sitting either side of him did not look pleased; Snape looked as if someone had force-fed him Skele-Gro.

'Happy Valentine's Day!' Lockhart shouted. 'And may I thank the forty-seven people so far who have sent me cards! Yes, I have taken the liberty of arranging this little surprise for you all – and it doesn't end here!'

Lockhart clapped his hands and a dozen surly-looking dwarfs marched into the room. Not just any dwarfs, however. Lockhart had them all wearing golden wings and carrying harps.

'My friendly, card-carrying cupids!' beamed Lockhart.

'Oh, God,' John groaned.

'They will be roving around the school today delivering your Valentines!' Lockhart continued 'And the fun doesn't stop there! 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!'

Castiel frowned slightly.

'I can't believe he's advocating the use of Love Potions,' he muttered. 'Doesn't he know how dangerous they are?'

'Probably not. He's the biggest idiot I've ever seen,' Ron said.

'And while you're at it, Professor Flitwick knows more about Entrancing Enchantments than any wizard I've ever met, the sly old dog!' Lockhart winked.

Professor Flitwick buried his face in his hands and, Snape looked as though the first person to ask him for a Love Potion would be force-fed poison.

'Please, Hermione, tell me you weren't one of the forty-seven,' said Ron as they left the Great Hall. Hermione suddenly became very interested in searching her bag for her timetable and Castiel turned a slight shade of pink. John smirked and shook his head, then suddenly bumped into Sherlock. He was gazing into the distance dreamily.

'Sherlock?' John said.

'Merry Christmas,' Sherlock slurred.

'What are you on about, it's not Christmas.'

Sherlock's eyes focused and he looked at John in confusion.

'What? Of course it's not Christmas,' he said.

'But you just said- Sherlock, what's going on?' John demanded.

'I don't know what- what on Earth-?'

A dwarf barged past Sherlock, already on his way to deliver a letter and almost knocking Sherlock off his feet.

'Sherlock, come on! What is it?'

Sherlock looked at him for a moment, then a look of fury contorted his face. He walked off without a word.

'Sherlock- '

John sighed and watched him go, then carried on to his lesson.

All day long, the dwarfs barged in and out of lessons, making teaching almost impossible, though Snape, after the first lesson, began locking his classroom door at the start of his lessons. Late that afternoon, as the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws were making their way to Charms, one of them caught up with Harry. Castiel and John were a little behind him when a particularly grim-looking dwarf elbowed past them.

'Oy, you! 'Arry Potter!' he shouted. 'I've got a musical message to deliver to 'Arry Potter in person,' he said, twanging his harp threateningly.

'Oh, this'll be good,' a voice from behind Castiel said in amusement.

They watched Harry struggle to get away from the dwarf, who grabbed his bag and ripped it, spilling the contents over the floor in front of a queue of first-years that happened to include Ginny Weasley. John's stomach sank as he saw the look on her face. Harry hurriedly tried to scoop his ink-sodden things up before the dwarf could start singing, causing a bit of a hold-up in the corridor. They heard Draco Malfoy and Percy Weasley's voices down the corridor and Harry tried to make a run for it, only to be tackled to the ground by the dwarf. He sat on Harry's ankles and got himself ready.

'Right,' he said, 'here's your singing Valentine:

'His eyes are as green as fresh pickled toad,

His hair as dark as a blackboard.

I wish he was mine, he's really divine,

The hero who conquered the Dark Lord.'

The corridor exploded with laughter and the boy behind Castiel spoke again.

'Oh, man, that's terrible,' he said, crying with mirth. 'Still, not a bad way to pick up chicks, am I right?'

He slapped Castiel on the back, who blushed bright red, and walked away.

Percy was doing his best to clear the corridor, but only managing to shoo away some of the younger students. John moved over to help Harry pick up some of his things, but was blocked by Malfoy snatching something up off the ground. Nausea washed over him as he saw that Malfoy had picked up Riddle's diary.

'What are you doing?' John said loudly, causing Harry to turn their way and see what Malfoy was doing.

'Give that back,' Harry said.

Malfoy, leering, showed it to Crabbe and Goyle.

'Wonder what Potter's written in this?' he said nastily.

'Hand it over, Malfoy,' Percy said sternly.

'When I've had a look,' Malfoy said gleefully, waving the diary at Harry tauntingly.

Percy said, 'As a school Prefect- ', but Harry lost his temper. He drew his wand and shouted, 'Expelliarmus!' and the diary shot out of Malfoy's hand into the air. Ron caught it, grinning broadly.

'Harry!' Percy said loudly. 'No magic in the corridors. I'll have to report this, you know!'

Harry didn't seem to care much and continued to gather up his things. Malfoy was looking furious, and as Ginny passed him to enter her classroom, he yelled spitefully after her, 'I don't think Potter liked your Valentine much!'

Ginny covered her face and ran into class. Rage bubbled up inside John.

'Sod off, Malfoy,' he said hotly. 'Just because you didn't get any Valentines doesn't mean you can take it out on other people.'

Malfoy turned on him angrily.

'Excuse me?' he said. 'Did I say you could talk to me, Mudblood?'

The crowd gasped. John snorted.

'You know, there's one thing that Muggle-borns have on Pure-bloods,' he said.

'Oh, really?' Malfoy sneered.

John punched Malfoy square on the nose.

'Pure-bloods have forgotten how to use their hands,' he hissed.

'Watson! Detention!' Professor McGonagall shouted, who had come out of her classroom to see what was causing the commotion.

'He called me a Mudblood, Professor,' John said, gritting his teeth angrily.

Professor McGonagall paused.

'Fifteen points from Slytherin,' she barked at Malfoy. 'That language is unacceptable on these grounds. Now, all of you, get to your lessons.'

She retreated back to her classroom.

John smiled brightly at Malfoy and walked away with Harry, Ron and Castiel. A detention was a small price to pay for punching Malfoy in the face, and one that John was more than willing to pay.

'Hey, look at this,' Harry said, clutching the diary. John flinched away from it.

'What about it?' he frowned.

'My ink got all over it, but now it's completely dry. No marks on any of the pages.'

That night, Harry pored over the diary again, but eventually, Fred and George's repeated renditions of Harry's singing Valentine got irritating and John watched him retreat upstairs to the dormitory with the diary.

'He's so weird with that thing,' Ron said. 'If there was anything to find we would have found it by now.'

'I don't know, Ron, there's a lot of magic that we don't know about yet,' Hermione said doubtfully. 'I don't think even Sherlock's managed to read everything in the Restricted Section. Not to mention that the library doesn't have all the information in the world.'

Ron gasped dramatically.

'Hermione!' he said. 'The library doesn't have all the information, really?'

'Shut up,' Hermione said playfully.

Just then, Sherlock came in and sat down by the fire.

'Where have you been?' John demanded.

Sherlock made a face.

'None of your business, Mycroft.'

John held his hands up.

'Fine, I'm not going to talk to you when you're like this,' he said

'Like what, exactly?' Sherlock demanded.

'You just- you shut everyone out with this stupid 'I know better than everyone' persona, and I've had enough of it!'

Everyone that was still left in the room looked away awkwardly and began to disappear upstairs.

'You've been walking around so spaced out that you thought it was bloody Christmas, but apparently you don't deem me smart enough to know what's going on!'

Sherlock just took it without saying a word.

Ron cleared his throat and directed their attention to the stairs where Harry was standing, pale and shaking.

'Harry, what's wrong,' Hermione asked.

'It was Hagrid… That was what Riddle got his award for… It was Hagrid.'

'What? What was Hagrid?' Hermione prompted.

'He was the one. He opened the Chamber of Secrets fifty years ago and Riddle caught him.'

'Harry, that's impossible. How do you know?'

'The- the diary. I got sort of sucked into it. It has Riddle's memory in it or something and it showed me- he showed me. Hagrid released the monster, I saw him.'

Hi everyone! Thanks to, Guest, The RedSlime, maliha1205, puffypuffin3, TsubasaKEI, Trapped under Loki's spell and fastreader 12 for the lovely reviews.

I realise it's been a very long time and I really appreciate any of you that find it in your heart to be patient with me and keep reading updates. Sometimes life gets away from you, especially where uni and depression are involved. But I made a promise and I intend to keep it. If not, the ideas I have for this are likely to be trapped in my head forever and I can't have that. Thank you all so much and I hope to see you soon.

P.S Sorry about the double upload. Accidentally skipped the Duelling Club and it wouldn't let me upload it in the right spot without deleting these ones