HP and the Parseltongue Chronicles - Chapter - 8

The sun was setting over the horizon, casting a warm orange glow over the vast grounds of Runestone Castle. Harry stood in his room, his trunk neatly packed with all his school supplies for his second year at Hogwarts. Books, robes, quills, parchment, and potions ingredients were carefully organized within, thanks to the help of Norky and Rosley, his ever-diligent house-elves.

Harry looked around his room one last time, taking in the familiar comfort of the place he had grown to love over the summer. He knew he would miss the quiet serenity of the castle and the bustling activity of his ventures, but the prospect of returning to Hogwarts filled him with anticipation and excitement.

“Master Harry, is there anything else you need packed?” Norky asked, his large eyes full of eagerness.

“No, Norky, you’ve done an excellent job,” Harry replied, patting the elf on the head. “I’m all set.”

“Are you sure, Master Harry? Perhaps an extra pair of socks or—”

“Norky,” Harry interrupted with a laugh. “I’m fine. Thank you.”

Rosley entered the room, carrying a plate of freshly baked biscuits. “Master Harry, you mustn’t sleep on an empty stomach. Please, have these before you go to sleep.”

Harry took one of the biscuits and bit into it, savoring the buttery taste. “Thank you, Rosly. You’re the best.”

As Harry was about to close his trunk, a familiar voice echoed through the hall.

“Ready for your big return, Harry?” Sirius Black appeared at the door, a mischievous grin on his face, followed closely by Remus Lupin.

Harry smiled at the sight of his godfather and mentor. “Almost. Just making sure I haven’t forgotten anything.”

“Ah, the perennial student’s dilemma,” Remus said, stepping into the room. “Don’t worry, Harry. If you’ve forgotten anything, we’ll send it to you.”

Sirius plopped onto Harry’s bed, making himself comfortable. “I can’t believe it’s already time for you to go back. Feels like just yesterday you arrived for the summer.”

“Time flies when you’re busy,” Harry replied. “Speaking of which, how’s the shop doing, Remus?”

“Better than ever,” Remus said with a proud smile. “Thanks to your materials, we’re set for the next few months. You just focus on your studies.”

Harry had just finished organizing his things for the night and was about to crawl into his comfortable bed at Runestone Castle when a sudden pop broke the quiet stillness of the room. Startled, he turned to see Norky standing before him, looking unusually anxious.

“Master Harry!” Norky squeaked, wringing his hands nervously. “Your friends, the red-haired twins, are at Highgarden. They is saying they need to meet you urgently!”

Harry frowned, concern flashing across his face. “Fred and George? Did they say what’s wrong?”

Norky shook his head fervently. “No, Master, but they is looking very serious. Norky does not think they is coming for fun.”

Harry wasted no time. “Alright, Norky, take me to Highgarden.”

Moments later, with a swift pop, Harry and Norky appeared in the grand hall of Highgarden, where Fred and George were pacing anxiously near the fireplace. Their faces lit up when they saw Harry, though their expressions remained serious.

“Harry! Finally!” Fred exclaimed, running over to them.

Harry noticed something unusual as soon as he laid eyes on Fred and George. The twins, usually bursting with mischief and confidence, looked genuinely panicked, a rare sight that made Harry immediately concerned.

“What’s going on?” Harry asked, stepping closer. “What’s got you two so rattled?”

Fred hesitated for a moment before pulling something out from under his robe. It was a small, black journal. He handed it to Harry, his hands trembling slightly.

Harry took the journal and examined it carefully. The cover was plain black leather, old and slightly worn. But what made his stomach churn was the name embossed on the cover: Tom Riddle.

“Where did you get this?” Harry asked, his voice low and steady, though his heart was pounding.

Fred glanced at George before replying. “We found it in Ginny’s trunk while helping her pack for Hogwarts.”

“Ginny’s trunk?” Harry repeated, the unease in his chest growing heavier. “Are you sure?”

George nodded. “Positive. We were helping her pack, and it was just sitting there under her books, like she’d been hiding it. Harry, we already know who Tom Riddle is—from everything we learned last year. But… seeing his name again… we weren’t expecting this.”

Harry turned the journal over in his hands, his fingers brushing the aged leather. The sight of Tom Riddle’s name sent chills down his spine. After everything that happened last year, the idea of Riddle’s name reappearing was nothing short of terrifying.

“Have you opened it?” Harry asked.

Fred and George shook their heads vehemently. “No,” Fred said. “We didn’t want to risk it. After what we heard about him last year, we thought it’d be better to bring it straight to you.”

George added, “We’ve been worried about Ginny too. She’s been acting… off. Like something’s bothering her, but she won’t talk about it. And now this…”

Harry’s mind raced. Something was definitely wrong. If Ginny was in possession of a journal belonging to Tom Riddle, there was no telling what kind of danger she might be in—or what the journal itself was capable of.

“This isn’t just bad,” Harry muttered, more to himself than to the twins. “This is really, really bad.”

Fred crossed his arms, his expression unusually serious. “What should we do, Harry?”

Harry took a deep breath, his grip tightening on the journal. “First, we don’t tell anyone about this—not yet. We don’t know what’s going on, and we don’t want to risk putting Ginny in more danger if she’s involved in something. Second, we need to figure out what this journal is and what it can do.”

George nodded. “How do we do that?”

Harry thought for a moment before replying. “We’ll need to test it, but carefully. And we’ll need help. Sirius and Remus are good with this kind of thing. If anyone knows how to deal with something like this, it’s them.”

Fred and George exchanged a glance before Fred said, “We’ll go with you. If Ginny’s in danger, we want to help.”

The atmosphere at the Weasley household had changed dramatically over the summer. For years, the family had scraped by, buying second-hand school supplies and doing their best to make ends meet. But this year was different. Thanks to Fred and George’s newfound success as partners of Stars Furniture, coupled with their share of the auction money, the twins had decided to give their siblings a memorable treat.

When Molly Weasley first learned of their plan to sponsor all the school supplies for their younger siblings, she was skeptical. “Are you sure, boys?” she had asked, her voice laced with both doubt and pride.

“Of course, Mum,” Fred had said with a grin. “What’s the point of all this success if we can’t spoil our family a bit?”

George added, “Everyone’s getting brand-new everything. No second-hand books, no patched robes, no hand-me-down cauldrons.”

Their generosity had brought immense joy to the family. Ginny, in particular, was thrilled. It was her first year at Hogwarts, and she finally got to start her magical education with all new supplies.

Fred nodded. “We’d just tossed out her old things when this popped up. We wouldn’t have noticed it if we weren’t getting her all new stuff.”

George added, “If we didn’t have the money to buy everything brand-new, we wouldn’t have cared about some old, second-hand journal. It would’ve just been ignored.”

Harry turned the journal over, his expression grim. “That’s exactly why this is so dangerous. Someone might’ve counted on that. But now that we’ve found it, we need to figure out what it is—and fast.”

Fred sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Makes you think, doesn’t it? If we hadn’t struck gold with Stars Furniture or that auction… if Ginny had just stuffed this into her bag without anyone noticing…”

“It’s too close,” George finished. “Way too close.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed. “It’s not just close. It’s calculated. Someone wanted this journal in Ginny’s possession. And they wanted it to stay hidden.”

The three boys fell silent, the weight of the situation sinking in.

Fred finally spoke up. “Alright, Harry. What’s the plan?”

Harry looked at the journal, the name Tom Riddle glaring back at him like a challenge. “First, we need to figure out what this journal is and what it does. Then, we’ll find out who put it in Ginny’s trunk—and why. But one thing’s for sure. We can’t let this out of our sight.”

The next morning, Harry, still shaken by the discovery of Tom Riddle’s journal, went straight to Sirius at Grimmauld Place. Sirius was sitting at the breakfast table, reading the Daily Prophet, a steaming mug of coffee in hand.

“Morning, pup,” Sirius greeted, looking up with a warm smile. “You’re up early. Something on your mind?”

“Yeah,” Harry said, sliding into a seat across from him. “I found something last night—or rather, Fred and George did. I think it’s really important, and I need your help.”

Sirius straightened, setting the paper aside. “What is it?”

Harry pulled the journal out of his satchel and placed it on the table. The worn black cover, with Tom Riddle faintly embossed on it, caught Sirius’s attention immediately.

Sirius frowned, picking it up carefully. “Tom Riddle? That name… isn’t that—”

“Voldemort’s real name,” Harry finished grimly.

Sirius’s face darkened. “Where did you find this?”

“Fred and George found it in Ginny’s trunk while they were packing for Hogwarts,” Harry explained. “It’s not something she would’ve bought. And it’s not a coincidence, either.”

Sirius opened the journal, flipping through its blank pages. “Looks ordinary enough,” he muttered. Then he looked up at Harry. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Try writing something in it,” Harry suggested.

Sirius raised an eyebrow but reached for a quill. He dipped it in ink and wrote, Who are you?

For a moment, nothing happened. Then, slowly, the ink vanished from the page, as though it were being absorbed. A new line of text appeared in elegant handwriting:

I am Tom Riddle. Who are you?

Sirius’s hand tightened around the quill. “Bloody hell,” he muttered.

“It talks back,” Harry said.

“It’s not just that it talks back, Harry,” Sirius said, closing the journal with a snap. “This thing has been enchanted. Heavily. And if it’s tied to Voldemort’s real name… this is no ordinary artifact.”

Sirius leaned back, running a hand through his hair. “You know, during our Hogwarts days, we enchanted the Marauder’s Map with some pretty advanced magic,” he began. “We poured a bit of ourselves into it—not literally, but enough that the map could mimic our personalities. It knew who we were, what we’d want it to do, and how to respond to certain situations.”

Harry nodded. He’d seen the map’s cheeky responses to Snape often enough to believe it.

“But this,” Sirius continued, tapping the journal, “this is different. If I had to guess, Riddle—or Voldemort, really—put more than just his personality into this. This feels… darker. Like a piece of him is actually in there.”

Harry’s stomach churned. “A piece of him? What do you mean?”

“I don’t know yet,” Sirius admitted. “But whatever this thing is, it’s dangerous. Voldemort didn’t make something like this for fun. It’s a tool. Or a trap.”

Sirius, curious but cautious, opened the journal again. He wrote another question: What do you want?

The ink faded, and the response appeared: To help. I can show you things. I can answer your questions.

“Creepy,” Sirius muttered, closing the book again.

“So what do we do with it?” Harry asked.

“For now, we keep it safe,” Sirius said firmly. “I’ll take it to someone who knows more about dark artifacts than I do. Maybe Lupin or even someone at the Ministry—discreetly, of course. But don’t tell anyone else about this, Harry. The fewer people who know, the better.”

Harry nodded, though he couldn’t shake the feeling that they’d just scratched the surface of something much bigger—and much more dangerous.