The Diary From 1977

Can't Help but Ask

Harry walked through the empty, candle-lit hallways for a few minutes. He finally had reached the alcove, and according to the old timey clock on the wall, it was 6:45. He sat on the ledge of the window, waiting for this mystery person to arrive. He had so many questions to ask: their name, their house, their favorite color—it made them giddy just thinking about it.

Fifteen minutes later, the brunette was still sitting there alone. When five minutes passed since arriving, Harry had thought the person was late and waited. Ten minutes passed, his hope was dwindling but still there. Fifteen minutes later and nothing? It was time to give up. He let out a defeated sigh and hopped off the ledge, trudging back to the dormitory without any new knowledge.

Thankfully the dormitory was still empty by the time he got back. He scoffed and opened the diary back up to the page he and this mystery person left off on.

What the hell. You said you'd meet me, and fifteen minutes later, nothing.

No response for a minute or so. Harry was beginning to think this whole thing was just a prank. A silly little prank to pull on someone who 'doesn't have enough problems going on in his life'.

As soon as he went to close the diary, he got a response back.

Me not show up?! I have been waiting for you for twenty minutes and nothing. Did you bail?

No, I got there at 6:45.

So did I.

This wasn't making any sense.

Fifth floor. You went to the fifth floor's alcove, right?

Yes. It is exactly what you said. For your information, I listen well and precisely.

Harry rolled his eyes to that.

Yeah well, if you do then why weren't we able to see each other?

That I do not know.

He sighed. This was impossible.

Well, if you don't mind, can I ask some questions? Since I wasn't able to in person.

Sure, go ahead.

A small grin adorned the brunette's tanned face. Finally this was going somewhere.

What's your name?

There was a long moment before the mystery person responded.

If you're uncomfortable then

Draco Malfoy. You?

That name sounded unique, but so did a lot of witches' and wizards' names. It sounded like a male name.

Harry Potter.
Are you a guy? Girl?

Guy. I am shocked you do not know that. In school, I am the most popular Slytherin guy there is. Also, most intimidating, if you do not count Regulus. Though, the only reason he is seen as 'intimidating' is because he barely talks to anyone and has a resting bitch face.

Harry snorted; he had one too. However, he doubted anyone saw him as intimidating. Well, his enemies do, but people around the school either treat him like he's this great guy - a hero -, or treat him like trash. Part of him couldn't blame them because he is the reason most school years end with some sort of tragedy.

No, I don't know anything about a Draco Malfoy. Do you know anything about a Harry Potter? Do nicknames like 'The Boy Who Lived' ring a bell? 'The Chosen One'?

I do not, but there is a popular Gryffindork— sorry, Gryffindor— named James Potter.

He froze with the quill in his grasp. Suddenly, his hold tightened and he was trembling slightly. James Potter. No no, that had to be a coincidence. It had to be, no way this dude could know his father.

By any chance, do you know a Lily Potter?

Lily Potter? No, there is a Lily Evans.

Harry mentally face palmed himself. That's what he meant.

But you might as well call her 'Lily Potter'. Every time they bicker, they sound like a married couple!

Harry laughed. It was nice to hear about his parents from another person's perspective, but one thing wasn't entirely clear.

Draco, what year is it for you?