ACT II — CHAPTER XI
A Sᴇᴄʀᴇᴛ Lᴏᴠᴇ

⊱ ────── 𖥔 ✶ 𖥔 ────── ⊰

Hermione remained in the hospital wing for several weeks. There was a flurry of rumors about her disappearance when the rest of the school arrived back from their Christmas holidays, because, of course, everyone thought that she had been attacked. So many students filed past the Hospital Wing trying to get a glimpse of her that Madam Pomfrey took out her curtains again and placed them around Hermione's bed, to spare her the shame of being seen with a furry face.

Quinn, Harry, and Ron went to visit her every evening, with Quinn having to ignore Justin's bed every time they did. It was too painful for her.

When the new term started, the three of them brought Hermione each day's homework.

"If I'd sprouted whiskers, I'd take a break from work," Ron stated one evening, tipping a stack of books onto Hermione's bedside table.

"Don't be silly, Ron, I've got to keep up," Hermione said briskly. Her spirits were greatly improved by the fact that all the hair had gone from her face and her eyes were slowly turning back to brown.

"I don't suppose you've got any new leads?" she added in a whisper, so that Madam Pomfrey couldn't hear her.

"Nothing yet," Quinn told her.

"I was so sure it was Malfoy," Ron sighed for about the hundredth time.

"What's that?" Harry asked, pointing to something gold sticking out from under Hermione's pillow.

"Just a get well card," Hermione answered hastily, trying to poke it out of sight, but Ron was too quick for her. He pulled it out, flicked it open, and read aloud:

"To Miss Granger, wishing you a speedy recovery, from your concerned teacher, Professor Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League, and five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most-Charming-Smile Award."

Ron looked up at Hermione, disgusted, "You sleep with this under your pillow?"

Luckily for Hermione, she was spared answering by Madam Pomfrey sweeping over with her evening dose of medicine, kicking the other three out.

"Is Lockhart the smarmiest bloke you've ever met, or what?" Ron asked Quinn and Harry as they left the infirmary and started up the stairs toward Gryffindor Tower. Snape had given them an outrageous amount of homework and Harry and Ron had begged Quinn to help them. Ron was just asking her how many rat tails you were supposed to add to a Hair-Raising Potion when an angry outburst from the floor above reached their ears.

"That's Filch," Harry muttered as they hurried up the stairs and paused, out of sight, listening intently.

"You don't think anyone else's been attacked?" Ron wondered tensely.

They stood still, their heads inclined toward Filch's voice, which sounded quite hysterical.

"— even more work for me! Mopping all night, like I haven't got enough to do! No, this is the final straw, I'm going to Dumbledore —"

His footsteps receded along the out-of-sight corridor and they heard a distant door slam.

They poked their heads around the corner. Filch had obviously been manning his usual lookout post: They were once again at the spot where Mrs. Norris had been attacked. They saw at a glance what Filch had been shouting about.

A great flood of water stretched over half the corridor, and it looked as though it was still seeping from under the door of Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. Now that Filch had stopped shouting, they could hear Myrtle's wails echoing off the bathroom walls.

"Now what's up with her?" Ron groaned.

"Let's go find out, shall we?" Quinn suggested, pulling her robes up above her ankles and stepping through the great wash of water, Harry and Ron copying her actions. They ignored the sign on the OUT OF ORDER sign on the door, just as they always did, and entered.

Moaning Myrtle was crying louder and harder than she ever had before, which was saying something. She seemed to be hiding down in her usual toilet. The candles had been extinguished in the great rush of water that had left both walls and floor soaking wet, making the bathroom darker than usual.

"What's up, Myrtle?" Harry called, and Quinn struggled to stop a sigh of exasperation. What's up was a terrible greeting for a crying girl, alive or not.

"Who's that?" Myrtle glugged miserably, "Come to throw something else at me?"

Quinn waded across the water to her stall, "We didn't throw anything at you, Myrtle. Do you know who did? Maybe we can help you."

"Don't ask me!" Myrtle shouted, emerging with a wave of even more water, which splashed onto the already sopping floor, "Here I am, minding my own business, and someone thinks it's funny to throw a book at me ..."

"But it can't hurt you if someone throws something at you," Harry said, trying to be reasonable, "I mean, it'd just go right through you, wouldn't it?"

Myrtle did not take this very well, She puffed herself up and shrieked, "Let's all throw books at Myrtle, because she can't feel it! Ten points if you can get it through her stomach! Fifty points if it goes through her head! Well, ha, ha, ha! What a lovely game, I don't think!"

"Do you know who threw it at you?" Harry asked.

"Again, I don't know ... I was just sitting in the U-bend, thinking about death, and it fell right through the top of my head," Myrtle said, glaring at them, "It's over there, it got washed out ..."

Quinn, Harry, and Ron looked under the sink where Myrtle was pointing. A small, thin book was lying there. It had a shabby black cover and was as wet as everything else in the bathroom. Harry stepped forward to pick it up, but Ron suddenly flung out an arm to hold him back.

"What?" Harry questioned.

"Are you crazy?" Ron asked, "It could be dangerous."

"Dangerous? Really?" Quinn asked him, as Harry started laughing up a storm, "It's just someone's book that they thought had no real use so they decided to throw at Myrtle's head."

"You'd be surprised," Ron said, looking at the book apprehensively, "Some of the books the Ministry's confiscated — Dad's told me — there was one that burned your eyes out. And everyone who read Sonnets of a Sorcerer spoke in limericks for the rest of their lives. And some old witch in Bath has a book that you could never stop reading! You just had to wander around with your nose in it, trying to do everything one-handed. You should know not to trust random items, Quinn, with your mum being an Auror and all. Oh, and there was a book that —"

"All right, we've got the point," Harry said.

The little book lay on the floor, nondescript and soggy.

"Well, we can't just stare at it forever," Quinn said, taking the opportunity to walk past Ron, who was still holding Harry back, and pick the book up off the floor.

The first thing that Quinn noticed was that it was a diary, and the faded year on the cover told her it was fifty years old. It looked oddly familiar, but she had no idea where she could've seen the old thing before. She opened it, and on the first page she could just make out the name T.M. Riddle in smudged ink.

"Come look at this," Quinn called over her shoulder. Harry immediately walked over to her, while Ron approached cautiously. They looked over Quinn's shoulders down at the page.

"Hang on," Ron muttered, narrowing his eyes as he looked at the book, "I know that name ... T.M. Riddle got an award for special services to the school fifty years ago."

"How on earth d'you know that?" Harry asked in amazement.

"Because Filch made me polish his shield about fifty times in detention," Ron answered resentfully, "That was the one I burped slugs all over. If you'd wiped slime off a name for an hour, you'd remember it, too."

Quinn peeled the wet pages apart. They were completely blank. There wasn't the slightest hint that someone had ever written on any of them, not even a Dear Diary.

"He didn't write anything," Quinn noted.

"Not anything?" Harry asked, disappointment evident in his voice. Quinn shook her head

"I wonder why someone would want to flush it away?" Ron questioned curiously.

Quinn turned to the back cover of the book and saw the printed name of a variety store on Vauxhall Road, London.

"He's probably Muggle-born. Vauxhall Road is only twenty minutes away from my house, and I live in a Muggle neighborhood," Quinn told them, tracing her thumb over the address.

"Well, it's not much use to us," Ron started, dropping his voice, "Fifty points if you can get it through Myrtle's nose."

Quinn closed the book and hit Ron in the head with it. He winced in pain, holding his nose.

"Do I get fifty points for that?" Quinn asked him.

They left the bathroom, and as they walked down the hallway, Harry grabbed onto Quinn's arm.

"You don't mind if I take the diary, do you?" he asked her.

"Of course not," Quinn said, handing the diary to him, "I've got no use for it."

⊰ ⋅ ⊱

Hermione left the Hospital Wing, de-whiskered, tail-less, and fur-free, at the beginning of February. On her first evening back in Gryffindor Tower, Harry showed her T.M. Riddle's diary and told her the story of how they found it.

"Oooh, it might have hidden powers," she said enthusiastically, taking the diary and looking at it closely.

"If it has, it's hiding them very well," Ron said, "Maybe it's shy. I don't know why you didn't chuck it in the bathroom, Quinn."

"Well, your nose just seemed so much more inviting than Myrtle's, Ron," Quinn said as she worked on her Transfiguration paper.

"I wish I knew why someone did try to chuck it," Harry said, ignoring the spat that almost began, "I wouldn't mind knowing how Riddle got an award for special services to Hogwarts either."

"Could've been anything," Ron said, "Maybe he got thirty O.W.L.s or saved a teacher from the giant squid. Maybe he murdered Myrtle; that would've done everyone a favor ..."

"I doubt someone chucked the book to get rid of it," Quinn added, "It was probably just Riddle's grandkid who got stuck with the old diary and decided to throw it at Myrtle for a good laugh."

She looked up, expecting to see nods of agreement, but instead saw the pensive look on Hermione's face, and a similar one on Harry's.

"What?" Quinn asked, looking between the two.

"Well, the Chamber of Secrets was opened fifty years ago, wasn't it?" he said, "That's what Malfoy said."

"Yeah ..." Ron drawled, and Quinn was beginning to catch on.

"And this diary is fifty years old," Hermione said, tapping it excitedly.

"You think the two are related?" Quinn asked her.

"It would make sense wouldn't it?" Hermione started, "We know the person who opened the Chamber last time was expelled fifty years ago. We know T.M. Riddle got an award for special services to the school fifty years ago. Well, what if Riddle got his special award for catching the Heir of Slytherin? His diary would probably tell us everything — where the Chamber is, and how to open it, and what sort of creature lives in it — the person who's behind the attacks this time wouldn't want that lying around, would they?"

"That's a brilliant theory, Hermione," Ron remarked, "with just one tiny little flaw. There's nothing written in his diary."

But Hermione was pulling her wand out of her bag.

"It might be invisible ink!" she whispered. She tapped the diary three times, and said, "Aparecium!"

Nothing happened. Undaunted, Hermione shoved her hand back into her bag and pulled out what appeared to be a bright red eraser.

"It's a Revealer, I got it in Diagon Alley," she told them.

She rubbed hard on January first. Nothing happened.

"I'm telling you, there's nothing to find in there," Ron said, leaning back in his seat, "Riddle just got a diary for Christmas and couldn't be bothered filling it in."

Quinn looked at the clock on the wall, sighing when she saw the time, "I should head back soon, it's almost curfew."

She had been avoiding Ravenclaw Tower like the plague. In truth, she felt as though some of her housemates were harshly judging her whenever she walked by them. Especially Kevin. It felt as though Kevin saw her as the reason for Justin's fate, that she could've stopped it. They hadn't really spoken since before the Holidays. Morag and her other roommates treated her the same as they always had, but she couldn't help but think that they thought the same of her.

As Quinn rolled up her parchment, Harry shot up to his feet, saying, "I'll walk you."

"I don't need you to."

"There's a monster on the loose."

"And you think the monster's going to see you and say, Oh, I can't attack her, she's with Harry Potter?"

"Maybe."

Quinn lost the fight and ended up walking with Harry back to the Ravenclaw common room. Every time they approached a corner, Harry would hold his arm out to stop Quinn from passing, peek around the corner, then wave her along if the coast was clear, which it always was.

"If there wasn't an actual monster out Petrifying people, I would be making fun of you right now," Quinn told him as he waved her forward.

"Do you want to end up in the Hospital Wing?" Harry asked as they made their way down the corridor.

Quinn didn't answer, just stared down at her feet as she walked. She knew Harry was just trying to joke around, but the mention of ending up in the Hospital Wing just reminded her of Justin. She would gladly take his place if she could.

Harry, noticing her silence, said, "The Mandrakes will be ready any day now. He'll be fine."

"I know, but it's been almost two months," she sighed, "I wish things were different."

When they arrived at the bottom of the spiraling stairs, Quinn bid Harry goodbye. She walked up and knocked on the door, being greeted by the all-too-familiar eagle.

"What is always coming, but never arrives?" it asked her.

Quinn thought for only a moment before answering, "Tomorrow."

"Very good."

The Fenwick girl smiled. That definitely brightened her mood. She was now 219-0, although stupid Michael Corner was 228-0.

⊰ ⋅ ⊱

The sun had begun to shine weakly on Hogwarts again. Inside the castle, the mood had grown more hopeful. There had been no more attacks since those on Justin and Nearly Headless Nick, and Madam Pomfrey was pleased to report that the Mandrakes were becoming moody and secretive, meaning that they were fast leaving childhood.

"The moment their acne cleans up, they'll be ready for repotting again," Quinn heard her tell Professor Flitwick one afternoon, "And after that, it won't be long until we're cutting them up and stewing them."

Quinn was relieved to hear that. She had much apologizing to do to Justin. And to Colin Creevey, for pushing him that one time.

Ernie Macmillan refused to give up on his smear campaign against Harry. He was convinced that he was guilty, that he had "given himself away" at the Dueling Club. Ernie would even try to accuse Quinn of leading Harry straight to him, of being his "partner in crime".

However, he quickly stopped spreading this rumor, as Kevin had heard about it and threatened to beat him to a pulp if he ever insinuated that Quinn had something to do with Justin's attack again. That made her feel much better, as he was defending her, even though they weren't really talking.

On February 14th, Quinn entered the Great Hall and was met with an eye sore. The walls were all covered with large, lurid pink flowers. Worse still, heart-shaped confetti was falling from the pale blue ceiling. Quinn walked over to the Ravenclaw table, where Lisa Turpin looked oddly uncomfortable and the rest of her roommates were overcome with giggles of excitement.

"What's happening?" Quinn asked, sitting down in between Mandy and Morag and across from Lisa and Padma.

"It's Lockhart," Lisa muttered, "He's doing some Valentine's Day thing."

Quinn shoveled toast onto her plate, smothering the pieces in marmalade, looking up at the teachers' table. Lockhart was wearing lurid pink robes to match the decorations. The teachers on either side of him were looking stony-faced. Quinn could see a muscle going in Professor McGonagall's cheek, and Snape looked as though someone had just fed him a large beaker of Bruisewort Balm.

Then, Lockhart stood up from his seat and walked in front of the table, waving for silence.

"Happy Valentine's Day!" he shouted, "And may I thank the forty-six people who have so far sent me cards! Yes, I have taken the liberty of arranging this little surprise for you all — and it doesn't end here!"

Lockhart clapped his hands and through the doors to the entrance hall marched a dozen surly-looking dwarves. They weren't regular dwarfs, though. Lockhart had them all wearing golden wings and carrying harps.

"My friendly, card-carrying cupids!" Lockhart beamed, "They will be roving around the school today delivering your valentines! And the fun doesn't stop here! I'm sure my colleagues will want to enter into the spirit of the occasion! Why not ask Professor Snape to show you how to whip up a Love Potion! And while you're at it, Professor Flitwick knows more about Entrancing Enchantments than any wizard I've ever met, the sly old dog!"

Professor Flitwick buried his face in his hands. Snape was looking as though the first person to ask him for a Love Potion would be given the Draught of the Living Dead instead.

Morag, Mandy, and Padma all squealed as Quinn and Lisa looked between them, dumbfounded.

"You all sent him cards?" Quinn asked, eating her toast.

"Of course!" Padma answered, "You don't have anyone who you would want to send one to?"

Quinn shrugged. She hadn't thought about crushes or dating at all. Most of her free time was spent trying to solve some evil conspiracy.

"My mum told me I had no business getting involved with boys until I was fifteen," Lisa said.

"Who did you send them to?" Quinn asked.

"I sent mine to Ernie Macmillan," Mandy said.

Quinn's eyes widened, "You deserve better. Trust me."

All day long, the dwarfs kept barging into their classes to deliver valentines, much to the annoyance of the teachers. On the way to History of Magic, the Ravenclaws and Gryffindors were walking upstairs and Quinn was in the middle of a conversation with Hermione about her cat, Phoebe, as the Granger girl was thinking about getting one for herself, when one of the dwarfs came running up to them.

"Oi, you! 'Arry Potter!" a particularly grim-looking dwarf shouted, elbowing people out of the way to get to Harry.

For whatever reason, Harry decided to make a break for it. However, the dwarf was fast, and he cut his way through the crowd by kicking people's shins, and reached him before he'd gotten too far.

"I've got a musical message to deliver to 'Arry Potter in person!" he said, twanging his harp in a threatening sort of way.

Just then, another dwarf came over, walking up to Quinn.

"Hey! You Quinn Fenwick?" he asked.

Quinn nodded, and the dwarf held a pink envelope out to her, "This is for you."

The dwarf walked away, and Quinn stared down at the envelope.

"Do you know who it could be from?" Hermione asked, looking over her shoulder to see the envelope.

"No idea," Quinn said.

Meanwhile, Harry had fallen to the floor and was fighting his dwarf, and it had just ripped his bag in two. Harry was scrambling to gather all of his belongings.

"What's going on here?" came the cold, drawling voice of Draco Malfoy. Harry started shoving everything feverishly into his ripped bag, and Quinn watched the whole scene go down in amazement.

"What's all this commotion?" said another familiar voice as Percy Weasley arrived.

Harry tried to get up and make a run for it, but the dwarf seized him around the knees and brought him crashing to the floor.

"Right," he said, sitting on Harry's ankles. "Here is your singing valentine:

His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad,
His hair is as dark as a blackboard.
I wish he was mine, he's really divine,
The hero who conquered the Dark Lord."

Quinn's jaw dropped as almost everyone in the hallway burst into laughter. Harry tried to laugh along as well as he got to his feet, but it was so obviously fake. Percy Weasley did his best to disperse the crowd, some of whom were crying with laughter.

"Off you go, off you go, the bell rang five minutes ago, off to class, now," he said, shooing some of the younger students away, "And you, Malfoy —"

Quinn looked over at Draco, who was showing something to Crabbe and Goyle. Her heart almost stopped once she realized that it was Riddle's diary.

"Give that back," Harry said quietly.

"Wonder what Potter's written in this?" Draco said, who obviously hadn't noticed the year on the cover and thought he had Harry's own diary. A hush fell over the onlookers. Quinn caught sight of Ginny Weasley, who was staring from the diary to Harry, looking terrified.

Quinn walked forward, "He asked you to give it back, Draco."

"Look at you, coming to Potter's defense," Draco said, "Your boyfriend can get this back once I've had a look. Nice song, by the way."

He held the diary up, waving it tauntingly at Harry. Before Quinn had the chance to say it wasn't her who wrote the song, Percy had intervened.

"As a school prefect —"

But Harry had pulled out his wand and shouted, "Expelliarmus!"

Quinn ducked down out of the way of the spell's path. Just as Snape had disarmed Lockhart, Draco found the diary shooting out of his hand into the air. Ron, grinning broadly, caught it.

"Harry!" Percy cried loudly, "No magic in the corridors. I'll have to report this, you know!"

Draco was looking furious, and as Ginny passed him to enter her classroom, he yelled spitefully after her, "Was it you who wrote the song? Because I don't think Potter liked your valentine much!"

Ginny covered her face with her hands and ran into class. Snarling, Ron pulled out his wand, too, but Quinn pulled him away. Ron didn't need to spend the entirety of History of Magic belching up slugs.

In History of Magic, Quinn sat down next to Morag, showing her the valentine she had yet to open.

"Do you have any idea who could have sent it?" Morag asked.

"No idea," Quinn said, just as she had told Hermione.

"No idea about what?" Kevin asked as he took his regular seat next to Quinn.

While he had been defending her, they still hadn't really spoken since Justin had been petrified. Quinn tried not to seem nervous when she answered, "I got a valentine. I don't know who it could be from."

"I got one earlier today, from Padma," Kevin said, lowering his voice as he leaned closer to the girls, "It was awful having to turn her down. I'm a little worried she's going to poison me in my sleep."

As discreetly as they could, Quinn and Morag looked to where Padma sat in the row behind them. Sure enough, she was staring daggers at the back of Kevin's head.

"That's so strange," Morag remarked, "She's always so nice."

"Hopefully yours is from someone you like," Kevin said to Quinn.

"But I don't like anyone. Not like that," Quinn told him.

Kevin patted her arm, "Well, then it's best to just rip the bandaid off and hope that they take the rejection well."

Quinn nodded, and, with shaky hands, she opened the envelope and pulled the letter out. Kevin and Morag leaned over her shoulders so that they could read it as well.

Dear Quinn,

This might seem out of the blue, as we haven't spoken much, but I wanted to wish you a Happy Valentine's Day. I think you're really pretty and very kind, and I was wondering if you would like to spend more time together.

From,
Michael Corner

Quinn couldn't believe her eyes. She had to read the letter three times for it to really sink in.

"Michael Corner?" Morag read, "I can't believe it!"

Meanwhile, Kevin was bent over with laughter, "I'm never gonna let him hear the end of this!"

"Michael Corner?" Quinn said, as though it had not been said yet, "This is so random. He's my academic rival!"

"Well, you're clearly not his," Morag told her.

Once again, Quinn, Morag, and now Kevin looked as discreetly as they could to the row behind them. Michael Corner was staring at Quinn, a look of adoration in his eyes. She snapped back to face the front of the class.

"What am I going to do?" Quinn wondered aloud, "I can't reject him, what if it really hurts him? I've never rejected anyone before, what am I supposed —"

"Relax, Quinn," Kevin said, placing a hand on her shoulder, "I'll let him know you're not interested, in a nice way. Just avoid him until tomorrow, okay?"

As Quinn smiled at Kevin, his hand still on her shoulder, she forgot that there had been any issues between them, if only for a moment. It made her feel like everything would be okay.

⊱ ────── 𖥔 ✶ 𖥔 ────── ⊰

WRITTEN: april 2024
EDITED: september 2024
WORDS: 4,310

AUTHOR'S NOTE! an update yay! i don't have much time because im about to go to class, but i hope you enjoyed this chapter! please vote and comment if you did :) have a wonderful day!