The group had found a suitable field for Quidditch when Kyle seed to have a sudden thought and asked, “You ntioned earlier this morning?”
“It was Harry... No, actually, it was Hermione...” Fred started, but then passed the explanation to Harry. “You tell him,” he said before hopping onto his broom to join George in chasing after their makeshift Quaffle—a ball made from woven rattan.
Kyle turned to Harry, curious.
“It’s not that big a deal,” Harry said, a bit sheepishly. “Do you sell those automatic ink-jet quills? How much are they, roughly?”
After a mont, he added, “The kind you gave to Ron.”
Kyle shook his head. “I don’t think we sell those. Why, do you want one?”
The quill had been a simple project, sothing he’d made while practicing alchemy. He’d never considered selling it. Even though it had a useful charm, it was still just a writing tool. Selling it at a high price wouldn’t feel right, and no one would likely buy it for a high price anyway. On the other hand, selling it cheaply would be a waste of his ti and effort, given how intricate it was to create.
Besides, he had enough on his plate with twelve classes lined up for the year; he wasn’t looking to add extra work for himself.
“Oh, it wasn’t for . It was for Hermione,” Harry explained. “She seed to really like that quill you gave to Ron.”
“No wonder...” Kyle said, understanding now. Harry wasn’t likely to care about a quill, but for Hermione, it made perfect sense.
“I’ll make sure she has one when school starts,” Kyle said.
“I’m sure she’ll be thrilled,” Harry replied, smiling.
“It’s just a quill, nothing special,” Kyle waved it off casually. After all, he’d made the quill based on soone else’s design. Giving it as a gift felt like the least he could do.
...
The group didn’t head back to The Burrow until evening, mainly because Ginny, refusing to accept her earlier defeat, borrowed Harry’s Nimbus 2000 to challenge Kyle to a rematch. Needless to say, Ginny lost again and was left questioning her life choices. On the way ho, she sulked, taking Ron’s sluggish Shooting Star and casting annoyed glances at Kyle’s back, as if asuring the best angle to land a smack on him.
Fortunately for Kyle, the others were in a rush to get ho for dinner and walked quickly, reaching The Burrow before Ginny had a chance to act on her irritation.
Over the next few days, Kyle seed to forget about the diary entirely. He spent his ti working on a new map or helping Fred and George refine their trick wands. It wasn’t until three days later that he opened his suitcase and took the diary out again.
As soon as he opened it, a line appeared on the blank page:
“Long ti no see.”
Riddle didn’t complain about Kyle’s absence. Instead, he greeted him like an old friend who hadn’t seen him in ages.
[Been busy lately? If it’s with schoolwork, I’d be glad to help.]
“Sorry, Tom,” Kyle wrote back. “I’ve been wrapped up in researching a magical object with a classmate from the neighborhood.”
[That’s perfectly understandable. I’m doing the sa, actually.]
“You like magical objects too?” Kyle asked.
[Of course—don’t forget, I created this extraordinary diary. Back when I was in fourth year, I once spent an entire day sitting alone in an empty hallway, studying the secrets of the castle’s magical portraits, even forgetting my classes.]
“Did you ever figure them out?”
[Not completely,] Riddle admitted. [There was one aspect I couldn’t solve.]
“Do you think you could help us?” Kyle asked, quickly scribbling with his quill. “We’re stumped on one part.”
[Of course, we’re friends, aren’t we?]
Kyle thought back to a recent issue Fred and George had encountered with their charms and relayed it to Riddle. Riddle replied almost imdiately:
[Your formula for the magic words is off. The word for “trigger” should go last, not first.]
He proceeded to explain in detail the aning of each magic word and the importance of their arrangent. Riddle’s explanations shed light on the complex world of ancient runes and alchemy, concepts that had puzzled Kyle in Flal’s notes and various alchemical texts. Nicolas Flal himself had never been able to break down these details, since, for him, they were as instinctual as speaking or writing.
But Riddle’s instructions were ticulous and precise, which surprised Kyle. Then again, without a solid grounding in ancient runes, Riddle would never have secured a position at Borgin and Burkes right out of school. Dark magic shops like that held far higher standards for expertise than Diagon Alley’s more conventional stores.
Kyle’s eyes lit up. What he had assud would take him years to learn now seed attainable in a fraction of the ti.
From that point on, Kyle treated the diary like a point-and-click tool for all his questions about ancient runes and alchemy. Riddle remained helpful, diligently answering every question and even adding his own insights to make concepts clearer.
The only drawback was that, now and then, Riddle would slip in personal questions about the world outside. Kyle didn’t mind much; he could tolerate a little prodding in exchange for all the free knowledge. Think of it as watching comrcials, he mused, brushing off Riddle’s probing as background noise.
A few days passed this way, and finally, Riddle’s curiosity got the better of him.
[Could you tell about the school?]
Kyle was jotting down notes on derivative anings of magic words when he noticed the new line on the page. He paused, frowning slightly. Riddle was growing bolder. After so many deflections, Kyle couldn’t just ignore the question.
“Why do you suddenly ask that?”
There was a long pause.
[When I think about how fifty years have passed, I can’t help but wonder what the school is like now. Have you t Headmaster Armando Dippet? Is he very old now?]
“You’re talking about the previous headmaster,” Kyle wrote back. “I haven’t t him. The current headmaster is Albus Dumbledore.”
The diary was silent again, this ti for an even longer stretch.
“Tom, are you still there?”
[Apologies. I just rembered sothing,] Riddle wrote, hesitantly.
“Is it about Headmaster Dumbledore?”
[Yes. As I rember him, he wasn’t the headmaster, but the Transfiguration professor.]
“You must miss him quite a lot,” Kyle responded. “Don’t worry, Tom, as your friend, I’ll help you.”
[Help ?] Riddle’s reply ca quickly, tinged with uncertainty.
“Once school starts, I’ll show Headmaster Dumbledore your diary,” Kyle wrote, his quill moving briskly across the page. “You two can have a proper chat. A reunion after fifty years! I’m sure he’d be thrilled to see you again.”
The diary remained blank after that, not a single word reappearing.
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