"Should we be doing this, Harry?" Vega asked quietly as she glanced at the black-haired boy. "In the Wizarding World, there is a saying – Never trust anything that can think for itself, if you can't see where it keeps its brain... and we can't see where this diary keeps its brain, you know?"
"But if we go through this, we will finally get to see who the person behind this is," Harry pointed out. "If that person is still out there, I bet he's helping someone else to do his bidding this time,"
No matter his assurances, Vega was still quite uncertain and frankly suspicious by the book. It felt a bit too convenient, even with the fact that this book really was from fifty years ago. She looked around them, hoping to be interrupted before they went through with this. She had never even heard of people visiting each other's memories outside of stories.
When Vega turned around to look back at the diary in front of them, she noticed fresh new words forming on the page beneath where Harry's quill was suspended over. It seemed to ride on her –
Let me show you.
Harry paused for a fraction of a second, glancing toward the black-haired girl sitting next to him. Her expression was clearly not into this but insistently, Harry reached down to write two letters –
OK.
The pages of the diary began to blow as though caught in a high wind, stopping halfway through the month of June. Vega held onto the table tensely as she noticed that the little square for June thirteenth seemed to have turned into a miniscule television screen.
Vega watched as Harry, being all strange that he was, raised the book to press his eye against the little window, and just as she reached to put a hand on his shoulder – the two of them were pulled.
They were being pulled forward into the diary itself – the window was widening – Vega could feel her body leaving the chair – and she felt herself being hurled forward headfirst through the opening in the page, into a whirling world of colours and shadows.
And then, finally, Vega felt her feet touch the solid ground and she straightened up, looking around as the blurred shapes around her finally came into her focus.
At first glance, Vega knew where she was.
This circular room with the sleeping portraits was Dumbledore's office – but it wasn't Dumbledore who was sitting behind the desk. A wizened, frail-looking wizard, bald except for a few wisps of white hair, was reading a letter by candlelight. It took a moment for Vega to recognise him.
"I'm sorry," Harry said shakily. "We didn't mean to butt in –"
But the wizard didn't look up. He continued to read, frowning slightly. Harry drew nearer to his desk and stammered, "Er – we'll just go, shall we?"
"Harry, you can't interact with people in memories," Vega said knowledgably as she peered around the office. "But... how do we get out of here?" She realised something. "Ah, we'll have to look at the entire memory, huh?"
Even though Vega hadn't been really into this, her curiosity was suddenly getting the better of her.
The wizard folded up the letter with a sigh, stood up, walked past Vega and Harry without glancing at them, and went to draw the curtains at his window. The sky outside the window was ruby-red; it seemed to be sunset.
The wizard went back to the desk, sat down, and twiddled his thumbs, watching the door. Vega realised that he was waiting for someone, and she wondered if it was Riddle. It must be.
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Coup de Foudre [Fred Weasley] [2]
FanfictionEver since her adventurous first year at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Vega Lestrange had started to believe that she had changed the image her identity held in peoples' eyes and that she knows most of the castle's secrets. That is...