Chapter 4.

Tom Riddle was pondering the next steps. The last diary entry was peculiar. It has started off in one direction and ended in another that he hadn't expected. And then, blood had graced the pages of the book. The three meagre drops helped strengthen him and put him closer to tangible existence. It was a giant leap towards his goals, much faster than he anticipated. He also knew what has transpired. Whoever it was had written something that would definitely be taken against the current norm and tried to rip it out of the diary. He could feel the spells working against the damage. The person most likely cut their finger on the pages and watched as blood absorbed into the book. So far, the writer seemed intelligent, especially for a first year, and with the lack of entries, he was sure that whoever it was, was currently thinking over the nature of this book.

Dark artifacts existed, that was something that was mentioned in the first Defense class. Not everything was good, not everything was light, that was why there was a class in the first place. Now, he was stuck waiting on the decision that might cost him a piece of immortality. If a professor got his or her hands on the diary, if they were even remotely sufficient at their job, they would be able to tell immediately that this was something that shouldn't be allowed near students.

Study aids of this type had not existed in his time and without knowing the date, despite being able to have a rough estimate thanks due to the last entry, he couldn't know if anyone he went to school with would be a professor and recognize his name. He had not felt any other magical signatures holding him in their possession, but also did not know what had been done with his book. He was still inside; he had not been tossed into the Black Lake or burned in one of the common room fires. He wondered if he had been left in an empty classroom.

…

Meanwhile, Emeree was staring at the book currently at the foot of her bed. Despite her reservations, she had brought it with her. It was well into the early morning but she was still trying to figure out what the book was. No demons or other worldly being had appeared, for which she was grateful, but she then started to wonder if she was being cautious over nothing. The book had absorbed the ink as easily as it had absorbed her blood, so it could be said that it would absorb all liquids in equal fashion without discrimination. She had tried a drop of water and a drop of her roommate's nail polish remover, but both had stayed on the page as if the paper itself were hydrophobic. She had wiped them off with a tissue but was left with her original thoughts. So far, the book absorbed ink and blood. She wasn't willing to try many other liquids and ever since her blood had fallen on the pages she felt like something was different.

It had been barely noticeable at first, but she had felt something, as if there was someone else in the room with her, but not in the same way that the hair on the back of your neck or arms stood up. It was as if she knew someone else was there and merely acknowledged the presence. It was as if one of her classmates was in the room and they just didn't interact with each other. She couldn't shake the feeling. It was only really apparent when she was alone, like now, but she knew it had to do with the book. There was something off about it and she knew she should have been a bit more cautious at the beginning. But, now, it had her blood and she wanted to know what it was going to do about it.

She chewed on her lip, pulling at the dry skin, before scooting closer to the diary and picking it up. Again, the only discernable features were that it had a leather covering and the letters T. M. Riddle were on the binding. It was a name, she was sure, but there was no date of publishing for the item itself. The pages were blank except for the entries she wrote, minus the last one. The book also felt alive. That was the only way to explain it. There was an energy coming from it that was absent before. She could feel, as if using a sixth sense, perhaps it was magic feeling magic. She wanted to know if she would be safe for the night or if someone, or something, would come out of the book and attack her while she slept. It was foolish, idiotic. She should have given it to a teacher but she was just so curious. She picked up a quill, dropped ink on a blank page and watched it disappear.

Tom stared at the ink drop for a moment before realizing that someone was interacting with the book again. Or more specific, the same Ravenclaw first year was interacting with the book again. Nothing happened for a few moments before a slash of red swiped across the page. He took a minute step back in shock. It was a deliberate smear of blood and it was definitely more than a few drops. He could feel his strength increasing and he would only need a few more slashes like that to be completely corporeal in this form.

Emeree hadn't really thought the idea through as she nursed held her thumb with a tissue. She had poked it with the nib of the quill thinking that maybe if the book had more blood, whatever was inside would come out. Nothing had happened so far, but the awareness that there was someone else in the room was sharper. She winced as she thought of how it was characters like her who died first in scary movies. Stupid and curious, that was what she was. She took the quill and decided that if something did come out and eat her, she hoped her roommates would hear her screams.

Hello?

Hello. Tom started laughing as he read the word as various scenarios flashed through his mind. Emeree waited a minute before deciding that she could sleep somewhat safely. As she touched the book cover to close it, a response appeared on the page.

Hello.

Her heart started beating rather quickly. She hadn't really thought about a response, more concerned about not getting eaten. She had probably not been replying fast enough because another entry appeared on the page.

Are you scared?

Funny enough, that question calmed her heart a bit. She would have expected it to say "Don't be scared" as some type of reassurance instead of asking a question. Of course, it could be more insidious than she made it out to be, but this, somehow, seemed more human.

Honestly, I am a little scared, but also curious. I was scared that a demon would try and eat me as I slept.

He couldn't help but chuckle at the response. So truthful this Ravenclaw, but also unintentionally amusing. Though, a fear of demons was real in the magical world. Rituals could summon them and bind them in objects. He had only read of accounts, but it was a sort of magic that had very high risks. It was considered beyond taboo to deal with demonic entities. Not even Grindelwald had delved into that branch of magic, despite the rumors stating otherwise. Though, the use of past tense was curious.

I can say with confidence, that I am not a demonic entity of any kind.

Emeree thought over that response. A killer wouldn't normally confess to being one in most cases. She wasn't completely naïve to the ways of the world. There was always a consequence, there was always a payment.

I don't exactly believe you just yet, but you have neither confirmed or denied your desire to eat me as I sleep.

It was almost half past two and she wanted to sleep. She would worry about consequences and payments later.

I have no desire to eat you, at this time.

It was most likely the best she would get.

I will hold you to your word.

She closed the book and shoved it into her bag. It might not be the safest option, but she hoped that no one would root around in it looking for parchment or ink to borrow in the morning. Just in case, she left some extra supplies on her bedside dresser so they would be easy to find. After cocooning herself within the blankets of her four-poster bed, she stared at the curtained ceiling which was charmed like the night sky. There were no artificially colored nebulas or galaxies as could be seen within the muggle world, but the gentle movements of the stars lulled her to sleep.