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Chapter 167
"I had no idea books could be used like that," Harry admitted.
There really were countless strange ways for magic to cause trouble. The wizarding world was far more dangerous than it appeared.
The soaked book lay on the floor, its writing blurred and nearly unreadable.
"Fine, I won't open it."
The moment Ron looked away, Harry bent down and picked it up anyway.
He immediately recognized what it was.
A notebook.
The faded date on the cover showed that it was nearly fifty years old.
Turning it over, Harry found the back cover stamped with the name of a stationer and the address of a shop on Vauxhall Road in London.
"This belonged to a student," Harry said thoughtfully. "And probably a Muggle-born one. Only Muggles would buy a notebook from a shop on Vauxhall Road."
Ron blinked in surprise.
"That's actually pretty clever."
He hadn't expected Harry to deduce so much from such a tiny detail.
"Maybe we can look inside after all. If it belonged to a Muggle student, it probably isn't some horrible cursed object."
Harry was already doing exactly that.
Carefully opening the notebook, he found a name written in faded ink on the damp first page.
The letters were barely legible.
Tom Riddle.
"Wait!" Ron suddenly exclaimed.
"I know that name! Tom Riddle won a Special Award for Services to the School!"
"How do you know that?" Harry asked.
He couldn't remember ever seeing that information in a book.
"You know how Filch likes punishing students?" Ron said bitterly. "And we're not allowed to use magic while doing detention."
Harry nodded sympathetically.
"I once got detention polishing trophies in the awards room," Ron continued. "By hand. With a rag. Every single one had to shine like magic had cleaned it. Trust me, you notice the names after a while."
Harry continued flipping through the notebook.
Nothing.
Every page was blank.
There wasn't a single note, drawing, or scribble inside.
The notebook looked old from the outside, but the pages themselves seemed almost brand new.
"He didn't write anything," Harry said disappointedly.
"It's just an old diary. Completely useless."
"Exactly," Ron agreed.
"Students don't usually write anything important in notebooks. And if they do, they don't throw them away. A genuinely valuable magical book would probably have some kind of protection on it."
Even so, Harry reluctantly slipped the notebook into his pocket.
Back in the dormitory, Harry showed the notebook to Hermione and explained where they had found it.
"It doesn't seem special," Hermione admitted as she examined it carefully. "But we should test it anyway."
"Or maybe it's exactly what it looks like," Ron said.
"An empty student notebook."
"If someone didn't want anyone reading it, maybe they just followed their heart and threw it away."
"I want to know why someone threw it into Myrtle's bathroom," Harry replied.
"That seems like a strange way to get rid of a notebook."
He paused.
"And I think I understand how Riddle earned that special award."
"Who knows?" Ron shrugged.
To him, investigating a fifty-year-old blank notebook felt like a complete waste of time.
"Maybe he caught thirty runaway owls. Maybe he rescued a professor from a monster. Maybe he solved a murder. If it involved Myrtle, I bet people were grateful."
Harry and Hermione exchanged a look.
Unlike Ron, neither of them thought the notebook was a dead end.
Both had reached the same conclusion.
"What?" Ron asked suspiciously. "Why are you two looking at each other like that?"
"Haven't you realized?" Hermione said excitedly.
"The Chamber of Secrets was opened fifty years ago."
"So?"
"This notebook is fifty years old."
Ron stared blankly.
"So?"
Hermione waved the notebook dramatically.
"Ron, think!"
"The last time the Heir of Slytherin was active was fifty years ago. We also know Tom Riddle received a Special Award for Services to the School."
"Don't you see the connection?"
Hermione seemed genuinely surprised by Ron's lack of enthusiasm.
"Riddle probably received the award because he caught the Heir of Slytherin."
She held the notebook up triumphantly.
"This diary might contain clues. Maybe it tells us where the Chamber is. How it was opened. It might even identify the Heir of Slytherin."
"That's a great theory," Ron admitted.
"But first you need to prove there's actually something in the notebook."
"Because right now it's just a blank notebook."
"I'll find something," Hermione declared confidently.
She pulled out her wand.
"Maybe the writing is hidden."
She tapped the notebook several times.
"Reveal your secrets!"
Nothing happened.
The diary remained stubbornly blank.
Hermione didn't give up.
Digging through her bag again, she produced a bright red eraser.
"This is a Revealing Eraser from Diagon Alley. It's supposed to uncover invisible writing."
She rubbed it across several pages.
Still nothing.
Not a single mark appeared.
Ron folded his arms smugly.
"See? The explanation is simple. Tom Riddle got a notebook for Christmas and never used it."
"It's not that simple," Harry said.
"A blank notebook shouldn't survive fifty years looking like this."
"And nobody throws something like this away for no reason."
He couldn't explain it.
But he felt there was something strange about the diary.
A feeling.
A faint sense of familiarity.
He was certain he had never heard the name Tom Riddle before.
Yet for some reason, the name felt oddly important.
Almost as though Tom Riddle were someone he should know.
Like an old friend whose face he had forgotten.
Of course, that was impossible.
Harry had barely been allowed to have friends growing up.
The Dursleys had made sure of that.
And fifty years ago, Harry hadn't even been born.
Yet the strange feeling refused to disappear.
Because of that, he couldn't bring himself to ignore the diary.
He found himself staring at the empty pages again and again, as if something hidden within the blank paper was trying to speak to him.
In the end, Harry decided he needed to learn more about Tom Riddle.
The next day, during their free period, he headed for the Trophy Room to look at Riddle's Special Award for Services to the School.
Hermione immediately volunteered to come with him.
The possibility of discovering something new was far too tempting for her to ignore.
Only Ron showed no interest.
He had spent far too many detentions scrubbing trophies under Filch's supervision.
As far as he was concerned, he had already seen enough of that room to last a lifetime.
(To be continued...)