Being home was… better than I'd thought. I was left alone in my room most days. After a week, I'd finished all my work and got really bored. Then I had an idea. My room was rather dull and bare and I've got a paint set…

I called for Dobby and he helped me move my furniture away from the walls. Then I sent him off. I took a pencil and began to draw a large Ravenclaw crest on the smooth gray wall. I mixed up my paints and got to work. I had my meals brought up so I could work on it as much as possible. It took three days to finish all the details and another day for it to completely dry, during which I hung up banners and photos. I also figured out how to change the color of the hanging on my 4-poster. When I finished, my room definitely stood out among the others. It was colorful and welcoming. I loved it.

While I was painting, I'd managed to paint everywhere: on me, the floor… I wasn't too bothered by it, but I scrubbed it of the floor with a thinned paint remover.

Very soon came the end of July, and our Hogwarts letters had come as well. Most of the new books we needed were by Gilderoy Lockhart. Our new DADA teacher must be a fan.

Two days after we got our letters, my parents came into my room. I'd spent near 6 weeks in there, and I suppose they'd gotten curious. Still, I hadn't been expecting it. I was busy painting a portrait of Athen when they came in, my back towards the door. Me painting was nothing unusual, but then I suppose they saw how I'd decorated my room. I heard a gasp and turned.

"Afternoon," I said, puzzled. They know I'm in Ravenclaw, I'd never denied it; I guess they didn't realize I took pride in it.

"Is this what you've been doing?" asked my mother.

"Well, err, yea. Yea, this is what I've been doing."

My father turned to her. I could only catch bits and pieces of what he was saying. "-turn out like your cousin or sister- have to put a stop to it-" Then everything fell into place. My aunt- the one I look like- did something that shamed her pureblood status, and so no one in our family will speak to her or about her. Something similar must have happened to this cousin of hers. I figured this would be a bad time to mention Emma…

My mother calmed him and he grudgingly handed me a black book, a journal. Then they left. I flipped through the journal, only to find it completely blank. On the back, in small glossy letters, was a name: Tom Marvolo Riddle. I had no idea what that meant really, but I could tell the diary was old, and belonged to this 'Tom Riddle' fellow. But now it's mine, I suppose. I grabbed a quill and wrote an entry:

Today my parents brought me this journal. I don't think I'll really use it. I have a bad feeling about it, and do not trust that it will be for mine eyes only. I am, however, curious about whom the former owner is. If they went to all the trouble to have their name on it, why not write in it? It's very odd.

I paused for a moment, thinking if what else to write. I stared at the page, then watched my ink fade away and words in a foreign hand appear:

You are very smart, but you can trust me. I can tell you why there are no words in this diary.

Next thing I knew, I was on the floor. The journal wrote back. I grabbed and went to find my parents. I found them in the study. I threw the book down on the table.

"What is this? What is it really?"

"What do you mean?" asked my father.

"It wrote back. If you think I'm stupid enough to believe that it doesn't mean it's got dark magic in it, you are sadly mistaken. I'm not going to write in it." I left without another word.

At the end of August, it was time to go to Diagon Alley. I met up with Emma and we went off on our own. We restocked our potion supplies, and then headed over to Flourish and Blotts. It was packed.

"What's going on?"

"Look! On the window- Gilderoy Lockhart is signing books today," said Emma.

"Oh, no! All our books are by him, what if they run out?"

"Let's try to get them while we can." We wormed our way through the crowd to the counter. We asked the attendant for our books. It took him awhile, but he brought us what we needed. Then we heard a noise from near the front of the store. I could barely see what happened, but it sounded like books falling.

Emma and I wormed our way through the crowd to get closer. I nearly dropped my books. My father was in the center of it all. I was too shocked too fell anthing else. I stood there in a daze until Emma shook my shoulder.

"Was that your father?"

"Sadly. I can't believe he'd pick a fight in public."

"It's rather childish, isn't it?" I nodded. Shortly after, we parted ways to go home. Once there, I headed up to my room to organize my trunk. Lockhart's books took up a lot of space.

I waited anxiously for summer to end. Oh, how I wished to be back at Hogwarts.