Classes gradually fell into a routine, and the grumbling of the students slowly lessened as they all adjusted to the security changes in the school, but resentment still smoldered in the halls.

As Hermione had predicted, there was a run of pranks done to irritate the teachers and prefects, probably to blow off steam. Someone snuck a niffler into the Great Hall, and it had stolen all the professors' goblets before anyone realized it was there. Someone let pixies out into the dungeons, making Snape curse Lockhart's name as he stormed around, zapping them all to bits. Hermione had even heard tales of some of the professors having to abruptly bolt from their lessons to the restroom mid-class, which just so happened to coincide with instances of the Weasley Twins' having particularly wide grins.

The students were all frustrated and annoyed, and Hermione couldn't really blame them; the security restrictions were getting to her too. She was glad that large groups of students generally went to the library after classes and after dinner each night, and Hermione found herself frequently going along with them, taking refuge in the stacks of books. Slytherin common room was still full of complaining about the security changes, mostly by the older years, and Hermione was sick to death of hearing them moan.

Studying in the library was easy and enjoyable, and it was quiet. Harry, Neville, and Ron joined her occasionally, while her Ravenclaw study mates joined her more frequently — Terry, Anthony, Mandy, and occasionally Michael Corner. But Hermione was content to study by herself in the back of the library, hidden by the shelves as she lost herself in a book or writing an essay.

It was when writing an essay on the use of Floo powder during witch burnings (which was unusually fascinating for Binns to cover – could you imagine a witch being burned at the stake when the entire bonfire went green?) that a shadow fell over her, and Hermione looked up to see a small, ginger girl, looking very nervous.

"…Ginny?"

The small red head nodded rapidly, eyes fixed on Hermione, and Hermione looked at her curiously.

"Here," she said, moving her stack of books over on the table to clear a space. "Do you need help with your homework?"

Ginny plopped down in the empty seat at the small table, her brown eyes still fixed on her.

"Ron says you're the nicest evil person he's ever met," she said abruptly, and Hermione groaned.

"I remember him saying that," Hermione said, rubbing her temples. "Why do you bring it up?" She gave Ginny a look. "Do you think I'm evil?"

Ginny looked hesitant.

"I don't know," she admitted. "You are in Slytherin, but an evil person wouldn't give us all Lockhart's books, I don't think. And I don't think an evil person would rescue Harry like that from his relatives. And you help Fred and George sometimes — you were chatting with them in the common room just the other night."

Hermione felt a knot in her chest loosen.

"And you got revenge for Luna," Ginny continued. She grinned at Hermione, tentative. "That was brilliant, what you did. I don't think it was evil, but it definitely wasn't nice."

"I never claimed to be nice," Hermione said mildly, folding her arms. "What of it, Ginny?"

Ginny paused.

"Are you evil?" she asked plainly, and Hermione gave her a dark look.

"No, I'm not evil." Her voice was annoyed. "Why do you ask?"

Ginny ignored her counter-question.

"Do you do Dark magic, though?" she pushed, and Hermione hesitated. Ginny caught Hermione's pause, her eyes flashing in triumph.

"You do know Dark magic," she said in satisfaction. "Do you—"

"Will you keep your voice down?" Hermione hissed, grabbing her wrist. Ginny's eyes went wide, and Hermione looked around carefully to make sure no one was around before turning back to her.

"I do not do Dark magic," Hermione told Ginny, keeping her voice low. "However, I do sometimes do what is called Grey magic, which is often misunderstood and assumed to be Dark."

"Grey?" Ginny asked, keeping her voice quiet. "What's that?"

"Things like… things like blood magic, for example," Hermione said. "If you use blood that's willingly given in a spell or ritual, it's Grey magic. But so many Dark spells use blood that's forcibly taken, so people assume anything with blood in it is Dark."

Ginny's eyes were wide.

"So… you don't do Dark magic yourself, but you know a lot about Dark magic anyway?" she summarized, and Hermione winced.

"You have to know what's Dark and what's not to make sure you don't fall on the wrong side of the line," Hermione argued, defensive. "Like… you wouldn't play Quidditch before you learned the rules."

Ginny considered this for a moment, tilting her head.

"So you're not evil, but you know about evil things," she said, and Hermione suppressed a groan.

"You're conflating Dark with evil," she said. "I'm not sure the two are entirely synonymous—"

Ginny was ignoring her, rummaging in her bag. A moment later she dropped a thin book on the table, where it fell with a faint smack.

Hermione glanced at the book – a planner, of some sort? – and looked back to Ginny.

"What's this?" she asked.

"A diary." Ginny bit her lip. "I think it's evil."

"An evil diary?"

It was a black, leather-bound notebook with some aged gold detailing on the corners. It looked very plain and unremarkable. Hermione withdrew her wand, casting a few detection spells on the book. Nothing reacted, and carefully, Hermione reached out and touched it.

Nothing happened, so she drew it towards her, flipping through the pages.

"There's nothing written in this," Hermione said, giving Ginny a quizzical look. "I was expecting a personal grimoire or something."

"That's not it," Ginny said insistently. "If you write in the diary, someone writes back."

"What, like an instant letter?" Hermione was intrigued at the thought. "Who has the matching one?"

"You're not listening to me," Ginny said, frustrated. "The diary writes back. There's a person in the diary, and he writes back."

Hermione blinked.

"And… this person is evil?"

Ginny hesitated.

"I… I think so," she admitted. "I… I'm not sure, and I don't know how, but… well…" She gnawed on her lip, before looking at Hermione, determined.

"Ron said to come to you if I ever needed help with something evil," she said decisively. "So I'm coming to you. I think this diary is evil, and I don't want it anymore."

Hermione sighed, closing the diary. She readied herself to respond to Ginny's nonsense only to have her eyes snag on the name marked in gold on the back.

Tom Marvolo Riddle

Hermione's eyes went wide.

She knew that name.

"You know, Ginny, I think this diary might be very evil," Hermione said, nodding decisively. "You were right to bring this to me – I'll figure it out and take care of everything."

Ginny looked relieved, but she fairly vibrated with anxiety.

"Don't tell anyone where you got it?" Ginny pleaded. "I'm not even sure where I got it – I found it with my school things. But I don't want anyone to know I wrote in something evil."

"Of course not," Hermione assured her. "Your secret's safe with me."

"Thanks." Ginny sighed in obvious relief, relaxing back against the chair while Hermione, her heart thrumming with adrenaline, carefully tucked the diary into her bag.