Not Just Our Story

Chapter 9: A New Book-Friend

Harriet Potter

"Well, that was crazy," Ginny said as she plopped down on her bed.

I looked up from my book and grinned at her. "You enjoyed that, didn't you?"

"You did too, didn't you?"

"Oh yes," I closed my eyes and let out a deep sigh. "It is enlightening to know that the best use of Encyclopedia of Toadstools is to bash it against Mr. Malfoy's eye." She giggled at this. "Ah, yes, that book can be a powerful weapon. Your dad used it well, Ginny, well done."

"Oh, bash that book against someone's head, Harry!" she pointed at the book I'm reading.

"You mean this one?" I held it up. I had convinced Mr. Weasley to take me to a Muggle bookstore where I bought several books after changing my Galleons to British pounds at Gringotts. "Intermediate Algebra is not designed for giving out black eyes. Instead, it uses the power of mathematics to give someone an overwhelming migraine just by looking at its pages."

"Does it really?"

"It does for most people," I returned to reading just as she sat up, pulled out her battered Transfiguration book, and placed it on her lap.

"Hey, do you think I could use this as a weapon?"

"Bash it against the nose," I lightly touched my own and we chuckled.

She opened it and... "Hey..."

"What?"

She held up a small black book that looked as battered as the one on her lap. "Do you think this was inserted here by mistake?"

"What do you mean?"

"I found it stuck between the pages like a bookmark."

"Would it be fine if I check it out?"

"Not at all," she answered, handing it to me. Upon examination, I beheld a diary, and the faded year on the cover said 1942. I eagerly opened it and on the first page is a smudged name: "T.M. Riddle". I tried to peel the pages apart, but they were all blank. "He never wrote in it."

"Who never wrote?"

"T.M. Riddle." I turned to the back cover and saw the name of a variety store from a familiar place in London. "He must've been Muggle-born to have bought a diary from Vauxhall Road..."

"A diary? Ooh, I've always wanted to have a diary."

"Really? Why didn't you say so? I bought one from the Muggle bookstore." I reached into my trunk and pulled out a white diary with pink butterflies and a ten-color rainbow pen. "Here, you can have them. At least they're not second-hand."

She gasped. "Thanks! I---I didn't---you don't have to---"

"But I already did," I smirked. "They're yours, now, Ginny."

"Thanks, Harry," she hugged me and I happily hugged her back. When she released me, she studied the diary, admiring the silver sparkles along the pink trail of the largest butterfly. Then she held up the pen. "What's this?"

"It's a pen, it's what Muggles use to write. It's already full of ink, so you don't have to dip it in an ink bottle." I allowed its tip to scribble on my hand and pressed the different push-buttons. "Remember to click it again once you finish writing or the ink will dry out. And when the ink fades, that means it's used up. You'd have to get a new one."

I gave it to her and she clicked the pink and yellow push-buttons. "How much do these things cost?" 

"Well, you wouldn't have to buy it again if you use a Doubling Charm," I pointed out.