Despite their well-reasoned excuses, Fred and George were each treated to a sharp ear-twist from Mrs. Weasley. The reason? The ink had nearly splattered onto the plate of sausages. Thankfully, Harry intervened, taking the bla, so Mrs. Weasley only gave Fred and George a light twist before letting them off.
Once she left, Harry explained in a hushed tone, and Fred and George realized they’d misunderstood.
“So, you’re saying you don’t want this kind of automatic ink-jet quill?” Fred asked, rubbing his sore ear.
“Of course not,” Harry replied, wiping the ink from his face. “Why would Hermione ever ask about sothing like that?”
Fred and George thought it over, and it did seem unlikely that Hermione—ever so prim, proper, and very much the “Professor McGonagall” type—would go after a prank item like that. After all, they’d even dubbed her “Mini McGonagall” themselves.
“She’s looking for a quill that writes with ink that flows automatically,” Harry clarified, glancing at Ron. “Do you have it with you?”
“No,” Ron said, reaching for a sausage. “I an, who brings a quill to breakfast?”
“Well then, dear brother, could you go fetch it so we can have a look?” George said with a grin.
Ron hesitated, but as everyone stared at him, he finally sighed, setting down his sausage reluctantly and trudged upstairs to retrieve the quill.
“Is this the one?” George asked, taking the quill and scribbling all over Harry’s notice. Soon, the paper was covered with neat lines of ink.
“It’s perfect for howork,” George observed, running his fingers over the nib. “It’s probably enchanted with a Refilling Charm, like our waterproof badges.”
“Refilling Charm?” Harry asked, blinking in surprise—he’d never heard of such a charm before.
“Are you talking about schoolwork?” Mr. Weasley had just joined them at the table and smiled at Harry. “I thought I heard you ask about the Refilling Charm. It’s a very useful spell, works like this…”
He tapped Harry’s half-full glass of pumpkin juice with his wand. The liquid inside imdiately began to rise until the glass was completely full.
“Wow…” Harry’s mouth dropped open in amazent. “But…didn’t Professor McGonagall say magic can’t create food?”
“Technically, it doesn’t,” Mr. Weasley explained. “It just transports the pumpkin juice already in the kitchen into your glass, saving the ti it would take to go back and forth. I’d wager this charm was invented by a rather thirsty wizard.”
Harry nodded in understanding, then turned to Fred and George. “So, can you make quills like this one?”
Fred paused. “What was the first question you asked when we ca down?”
Harry thought for a mont. “I haven’t seen Kyle around. Has he gone out again?”
“No, he’s been in his room reading,” Fred replied smoothly. “He does that a lot. You’ll get used to it.”
George returned the quill to Ron. “Oh, by the way, did you know the Chudley Cannons actually won against the Vratsa Vultures this year?”
“What? The Vultures are third-ranked! Could it be the Cannons are finally on the rise?” Ron exclaid, eyes wide.
With practiced ease, Fred and George had successfully changed the topic. Harry, puzzled for a mont, quickly forgot about the quill and jumped into the Quidditch conversation.
“The Cannons won? How did you hear about that?” he asked eagerly.
“Cedric told us—he was at the match…”
...
On the other side of the room, Kyle was indeed there, though he wasn’t reading—at least, not yet.
After two days of keeping it sealed in the box, Kyle finally took the diary out. He stared at the na “Riddle” for a mont, then opened it to the blank second page and began transcribing notes on Transfiguration as naturally as he would in any notebook. But before he had written much, the words began to fade, slowly absorbed into the paper until they vanished completely.
A new line of text appeared on the blank page, written in the sa ink as his own.
[Hello, are you a Hogwarts student?]
The words shimred on the page briefly before disappearing.
Kyle’s face tightened slightly. Picking up his quill, he wrote back quickly, firing off questions.
“Who are you? Where are my notes? And how do you know I’m a Hogwarts student? Are you so kind of dark magic object?”
The writing vanished, and after a long pause, new words ford on the page.
[My na is Tom Riddle. I’m not a dark magic object but rather a mory preserved in this diary. Think of like the magical portraits in the castle. That’s how I can communicate with you.]
[You wrote about the cautions for turning inanimate objects into animals, which is from the Interdiate Transfiguration Guide. You must be a third-year student.]
Kyle raised an eyebrow, intrigued. Riddle seed patient, carefully answering each of his questions without skipping a beat. After a mont’s thought, Kyle responded.
“I know about the portraits and talk to them all the ti… but this is the first ti I’ve seen such an amazing diary.”
“You’re right—I’ll be a third year when school starts.”
This ti, Riddle replied quickly.
[Do you study during the holidays? You must be a good student, like .]
“I know all my books by heart!” Kyle wrote back, his handwriting a little sloppy in his eagerness. “And I’m number one in my class.”
[I knew I wouldn’t be wrong in guessing. We should get along well.]
“Were you also number one in your class?” Kyle asked.
[Always,] Riddle responded, his words appearing promptly.
He seed intent on impressing Kyle, as he continued, [In fifth year, I even won the Special Award for Services to the School. You can find my na in the Trophy Room if you want proof.]
What’s there to brag about? I have one of those too—and probably more than he ever did, Kyle thought, amused. He wrote back, “A Special Award for Services to the School… that’s impressive.”
Then, trying to provoke Riddle a bit, he added, “With achievents like yours, I bet you received the Order of rlin as well.”
The diary fell silent for a long mont. Riddle seed unprepared for this question, and Kyle’s patience was beginning to wane when finally, new words materialized on the page.
[When I left this diary, I hadn’t...] Riddle hesitated before adding, [But I believe that if I set my mind to it, I could earn the Order of rlin.]
Even though it was only text, Kyle could feel Riddle’s confidence radiating from the page.
And he was probably right.
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