"I don't remember any of them saying that," Menelaus Gristwood muttered, adjusting his glasses nervously as he glanced around for Ms. Quillworth. "They were just talking about study guides..."
"That’s a suspiciously normal sounding conversation!" Pal said. "Besides, we're the Gryffindor Irregulars! We have to investigate everything!"
"The Ministry of Ungentlewizardly Warfare," Wigbald Stoat corrected, his ginger hair falling over his eyes. "Sounds more wizardy."
"Whatever we are today," Mel sighed, "Miss Quillworth will be furious if we go in the Restricted Section, to say nothing of Miss Mulholland–”
"The rules say don’t go into the Restricted Section," Pal grinned. "We're near it. Big difference. Now help me look for what they're hiding!"
The three boys spread out along the brightly lit shelves. Mel got immediately distracted by a picture book on potion brewing techniques. Wiggy found himself absorbed in Quidditch Through the Ages.
But Palamedes was on a mission.
He prowled the aisles like he imagined Aurors did, humming appropriate theme music:
"Dun, dun… dun-dun, dun, dun… dun-dun!"
Then he saw it – a small black book lying in a conspicuously clean spot on an otherwise dusty shelf, positioned so the light caught the polished cover.
"Eureka!" he hissed, causing Mel to drop his book and Wiggy to nearly fall off the stepladder he'd been sitting precariously on.
“What is it?” both boys whispered. Pal snatched up his prize.
"Look! It's just sitting here, all mysterious-like!" He turned the book over in his hands. "No name, no checkout slip, no nothing!” He put it up to his nose and took a deep sniff of the rich leather. “This is definitely a clue!"
"A clue to what?" Mel asked, retrieving his fallen book.
"I dunno. That's why we have to investigate!"
“It looks like someone’s lost notebook.”
Pal opened the book, revealing nothing but blank pages. "Maybe it's got invisible ink! Maybe if we hold it in front of a flame we can reveal hidden writing!"
"Yes, or set it on fire," Wiggy frowned. "Do you think it’s flammable?”’
"Don't be thick, of course it is!" Pal rolled his eyes. "We just need to warm it up a bit. Here—" He held the book close to one of the library's lanterns.
"I don't think that's—" Mel began.
"Shhh! I read about this in a spy comic!" Pal squinted at the pages. "Nothing. Maybe we need more heat..."
"Or we could try lemon juice," Wiggy suggested.
"Brilliant!" Pal's eyes lit up. "Quick, pop down to the kitchens and nick us a lemon!"
"We are NOT pouring lemon juice on a library book," Mel protested, putting his foot down. "Besides, if it's magical invisible ink, wouldn't we need a magical solution?"
"Not here though, let's go back to base!” suggested Wiggy.
They raced to their ‘base’, a disused classroom in the lower half of the Astronomy Tower.
"Right then," Pal announced, "Time for detection spells!"
"Do we even know any?" Mel asked doubtfully.
"We can try and see what happens!" Pal pulled out his wand. "Alohomora!"
Nothing happened.
"That's for locks," Mel said.
"Wingardium Leviosa!" Wiggy tried. The book floated unsteadily a few inches into the air before flopping back down.
“See that?” Wiggy barked in alarm, “It resisted my spell!”
“I think your spell was just bad,” Mel shook his head.
"Well, now we know it's not immune to magic," Pal noted importantly. "Write that down, Mel!"
"Write what down? That basic spells work on it like they do on every other book?"
"Every detail is important!" Pal snatched the book back. "Lumos!"
His wand tip lit up.
"The book didn't react," Wiggy observed.
"Maybe I need to give it some more mustard." Pal cleared his throat. "LUMOS MAXIMA!"
The resulting flash temporarily blinded all three of them.
"Ow," said Mel from the floor.
"Right, new plan," Pal announced, blinking spots from his eyes and bumping into a desk. "We need proper equipment. Let's go ask Professor Whitby."
"And you need a magnifying glass for what exactly?" Professor Whitby asked dubiously. “You’re not going to be roasting insects are you?”
“For detective work!" Pal burst out.
“Detective work!” Whitby's face lit up. "Like Scotland Yard? Well, why didn’t you say so! Did you know Muggle detectives also use something called fingerprint powder? And ultraviolet lights? Though that's still experimental of course."
"Just the magnifying glass, please, Professor," Mel began, but Whitby was already rummaging through his desk drawers.
"You can't do proper detective work without the full kit!" He emerged with a magnifying glass, a small brush, and a tin. "Here’s dusting powder. Well, the tin of it. I ran out of the stuff it came with and had to substitute with pulverized moonstone from Professor Vale’s storeroom... makes the prints shimmer beautifully. I told him I needed it for class."
"Prints?" Wiggy asked.
"Fingerprints!" Whitby explained eagerly. "Every person's are unique, you see. Muggles use them to catch criminals. Fascinating stuff! Much more fun than tracking charms. Can't confound a fingerprint!"
The boys left with the whole kit, which Whitby had insisted upon after extracting a solemn promise that they wouldn't tell Professor Winterborn about it.
"Right then," Pal announced. "Time to dust for prints!"
"Do you actually know how to do this?" Mel asked nervously as Pal opened the tin.
"'Course I do!" Pal grinned. "You sprinkle it about, just a lil’ bit like-OOOOPS!"
The lid of the powder tin came off in his hand, and a shimmering avalanche cascaded onto the diary. A glittering cloud rose into the air, making all three boys sneeze.
Five seconds later, the book was dusted with Whitby's brush, revealing dozens of overlapping fingerprints that sparkled in the sunlight.
"Ah HA!" Pal exclaimed. "Evidence!"
"Those are our fingerprints, Palamedes," Mel grunted. "From handling the book for the past hour!"
"Oh." Pal deflated. "Well... maybe if we look at the ones underneath."
"The ones we just covered?"
"There could be really old ones!" Wiggy suggested. "Like from last term!"
"Those would also be covered," Mel pointed out.
"Unless..." Pal's eyes lit up. "Unless we use MORE powder! To see through the first layer!"
Without hesitation, he turned the jar upside down, dumping every last grain of moonstone powder onto the diary's cover.
"I think I see something!" Wiggy squinted at the book, now buried under a small fortune's worth of pulverized moonstone. "Wait, no, that's just where Pal smudged it with his sleeve."
"Let's examine the evidence!" Pal blew away the extra powder and held the magnifying glass over the diary,
"What exactly are we looking for?" Wiggy asked, peering over Pal's shoulder.
"Clues!" Pal declared. "Like... tiny writing! Or... mysterious stains! Or..." he squinted through the glass. "Hold on, if I catch it just right—"
"You're holding it too close," Mel pointed out.
"I knew that," Pal pulled away from the page, where his nose had rubbed into the powder. "Maybe if I just hold it up to the light—YEOWCH!" He dropped both glass and book as a concentrated beam of sunlight shot straight into his eye.
"I can't see anything," Wiggy complained, scooping up the magnifying glass and squinting at the diary's blank pages. "Except... wait... no, that's nothing."
"Try the cover again," Pal suggested. "Maybe there's a secret message in the leather grain!"
"That's ridiculous," Mel muttered, but obligingly held it up in the light as Wiggy examined every inch of the cover.
"Nothing," Wiggy finally admitted. "Unless... do you think the smudges mean something?"
"Those are just plain old smudges," Mel observed, frugally sweeping the spilled moonstone off of the desk and back into the tin.
"Oh." Pal tapped his chin. Then brightened again. "Well, if no one's going to claim it, and we can't find any clues..." He pulled out his quill. "Might as well make it official. This book now belongs to—"
He wrote with a flourish on the first blank page: Property of Palamedes Hitchens, First-Year Gryffindor Irregular, Junior Officer of Sorcerous Services (JOSS), Future Auror.
They watched as the ink glistened on the page. Then, slowly, it began to sink into the paper.
"Ooooooo," Wiggy breathed.
"Is it a self-cleaning page?" Mel wondered.
Words began to appear in elegant script: Hello, Palamedes. How wonderful to meet a Hogwarts student.
"MERLIN! IT WRITES BACK!" Pal nearly dropped the book in excitement. "Quick, let’s ask it something!"
"Ask it what it is first!" Mel suggested.
"Who cares about that, ask it about Hogwarts!" Wiggy interrupted. "Ask it about secret passages!"
Pal scrawled, "Do you know any secret passages into the Ravenclaw Common Room?"
The diary's response appeared more slowly this time: I know many things.
"It knows things!" Pal bounced excitedly. "We can use it to help with homework!"
"We should really turn this in to Ms. Quillworth," Mel suggested halfheartedly, but curiosity won out as he and Wiggy crowded around Pal.
I've been waiting for someone worthy to find me.
"This is brilliant!" Pal exclaimed, interrupting the diary's message and writing over it: "Do you know anything about the Goblin Rebellion of 1612? We've got an essay due tomorrow and I haven't even started..."
"Hang on," Wiggy interrupted, pointing at the page. "If it knows history, ask it about the witch burnings next!"
You'll need to specify which witch burnings, the diary replied, but I'd prefer to discuss something more interesting. Hidden beneath this very castle
"Oh! Ask it about Transfig!" Mel urged. "Winterborn's going to test us on matchsticks-to-needles tomorrow!"
The diary's writing became more aggressive, unable to absorb Pal’s ink fast enough: Yes, I used to be a student here. Now listen, young gentlewizard, I'm trying to tell you about
"It knows Transfig!" Pal squealed with delight. "This is perfect! I bet he knows about all our classes!"
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
No, you The diary cut off as if taking a calming breath. New words appeared carefully: Let us discuss your deepest desires instead.
"I desire to not fail History of Magic," Mel wrote. "Can you explain when and why the International Statute of Secrecy was established? Explain it like I’m a first-year."
As if against its will, the diary wrote:
The International Statute of Secrecy was established in 1689 and officially enacted in 1692 in order to protect the magical community from Muggle persecution. By the late 17th century, Muggles had grown increasingly suspicious and fearful of witches and wizards in the wake of the Protestant Reformation and the Thirty Years War...
It went on in this vein for three more paragraphs before tying it up in a neat conclusion.
“Holy Merlin,” Wiggy breathed, “It just wrote our essay for us.”
"We’ve got to tell the others!" Pal declared, holding the diary like it was worth a million galleons. "This is the best discovery the Gryffindor Irregulars have ever made!"
“Pal,” Mel pointed out as they hurried from the library, "It's our only discovery.”
Palamedes burst into the Gryffindor common room, waving the small black book over his head. Menelaus and Wigbald trailed behind him panting.
"Look what we found!"
"Quiet down freshies," Jack Semmes called from the fireplace without looking up from his Ancient Runes translations. "Inside voices in the common room.”
"But this is brilliant, Mr. Semmes!" Pal dropped cross-legged by the hearth, his black hair lank with sweat. "Look! It's a magical homework helper! We found it in the library. At first, we thought someone lost their diary, but watch this!"
Wiggy produced an inkwell and quill. Pal opened the book to a blank page and wrote: If a wand core has a numerological value of 7, and the wood has a value of 4, what's the total magical resonance when you factor in the lunar phase coefficient of 1.5?
The ink sank into the page and disappeared.
A moment later, new words emerged: The resonance value would be 16.5 feys. However, I could show you calculations of far greater significance concerning a certain hidden
"See?" Pal interrupted, turning the page on it. "It does maths! And not just that! Watch this!" He scribbled on a fresh page: Can you explain the 1637 Werewolf Code of Conduct?
New text flowed across the page: That Code established strict regulations for werewolves to protect both them and their neighbors from the worst effects of their curse, though I could tell you about something more interesting beneath
"Whoa," Jack leaned forward. "What I would have given to have something like that when I was your age."
"It knows everything!" Wiggy exclaimed, turning the page again. "You have to keep turning the page once it gets off-track. We’re gonna use it for our History of Magic essay and get top marks!"
“Palamedes Hitchens!” A small figure walked into the circle.
Minerva McGonagall had her arms crossed, her dark hair in two plaits, square-rimmed glasses flashing. "You shouldn't be using unknown objects to cheat. It could be dangerous. And even if it weren't dangerous, it’s dishonest! You should at least cite the magical assistance you're receiving."
"Cite it?" Pal looked scandalized. "Come off it, Minnie! This is the future of education! Look here!" He held up the diary triumphantly. "The professors could just slap our essays and homework right into here and have it grade them too! Save everyone loads of time!"
The diary's writing turned distressed: I most certainly will NOT grade papers. I am trying to tell you about
"See how efficient it is?" Pal ignored it. "It's like having a whole library that just gives you the answers!"
"That's exactly the problem," Minerva insisted. "You're not learning anything this way. You're just copying answers without understanding!"
"Au contraire," Mel declared. "We can learn ten times faster now! This is the new way of doing things!
"Understanding is overrated anyway," Wiggy added. "Why spend hours reading and listening when we can just ask this clever book?"
I am a vessel of magic, not your personal tutor! protested the diary.
"Ooo, I wonder if it can do citations?" Pal exclaimed, "Here, give me three sources about the Werewolf Code!"
The diary's writing appeared with visible resignation: "Lupine Lawmaking" by Apollo Fouler, "Werewolf Rights Through the Ages" by Newt Scamander, and "A History of Magical Regulation" by Bathilda Bagshot.
Pal grinned. "As Mr. Semmes would say, that's a bingo!"
"Just bingo," Jack corrected.
"Bingo!" Pal cried.
“You’re reducing centuries of magical scholarship into a glorified shopping list!” protested Minerva. “How can you defend an argument when you don’t even know the sources you’re citing?”
“It’s called working smarter, not harder,” Pal replied, turning back to the book. “What's the numerical value of Mercury in arithmantic spell calculations?”
The diary's response was laconic: Seven.
"See?!" Mel did a little jig. "Though it does get a bit petulant sometimes. Keeps trying to tell us about some chamber or other."
"Probably the Magical Chamber of Commerce," Wiggy shrugged. "Boring grown-up stuff. Now this, Minnie, this is progress!”
Minerva’s nostrils flared. “Progress is not an excuse to abdicate academic rigor. If you’re not engaging with the material, you might as well be asking a magic mirror for answers.”
“I’d do that too if we had one!” Pal chimed in cheerfully. “But this is even better because it does the writing for us too! Cor, do we have any duplic parchment lying around? I don’t want to hand-copy all this, my hand’ll cramp.”
“The fifth-years bought a few packets of Reflect-o-Sheet to help crib O.W.L. notes,” Mel remembered. "I'm sure we can borrow some."
Tell me about yourself, Palamedes. The diary wrote. What troubles you? What fears keep you awake at night?
"Oh wowwee! It does personality quizzes too?!" Pal scrawled back eagerly. "I'm troubled by Professor Winterborn's Transfiguration homework. And I'm afraid of failing the end-of-term Potions exam."
I sense deeper fears... darker thoughts... Perhaps about your family? Your place in the world?
"Family's great! Dad works at the Ministry, Mum makes yummy pork pies. Love my little sis. Oh! Speaking of place in the world - can you explain planetary alignments for Astronomy? I keep mixing up Jupiter and Mars."
Surely you must feel... angst? Resentment? A craving for power?
"Only at breakfast when the older students nick all the sausages before we get there."
I can teach you power beyond your imagination.
"Like Charms? We're doing Wingardium Leviosa this week and I keep dropping my feather."
Don't be so smallminded. I'm talking about
"Hang on," Wiggy interrupted, grabbing the quill. "Can you explain the twelve uses of dragon's blood? I've only got nine written down and Vale's going to test us. Explain it like I’m a first-year."
FORGET DRAGON'S BLOOD! I'm trying to tell you about your destiny! Hidden magics! Ancient secrets!
"Ancient secrets?" Mel perked up. "Like historical dates?”
No! Daaaaark secrets! Terrrrrrible secrets! Things that could shake the very foundations of
"Oh, like that passage to the kitchens Mr. Marshwiggle told us about?" Pal wrote. "We already know that one."
I could help you get revenge on your enemies!
"The only enemy I've got is this Transfiguration essay," Pal wrote back cheerfully. "Unless you count Peeves, but he's not so bad once you learn to duck."
Don't you want to prove yourself? Show everyone what you're truly capable of?!
"I did that in Flying class yesterday! Almost got the broom up, first try. I’m gonna make the Quidditch team next year, I can just feel it! Now, about those planetary alignments..."
I could teach you to control others and bend them to your will!
"Like getting the prefects to give us more pudding? Miss Mulholland is pretty good about that already if we ask nicely."
The diary tried one last time:
I sense darkness within you, Palamedes. A yearning for forbidden fruit.
"Ooo, like the edenic apples from the kitchens?"
No, I'm talking about GLORY!
"First step to glory by passing Friday's Charms pop quiz."
Salazar's spit…very well. I’m sure the curriculum hasn’t changed much since ‘38. Professor Brightwell likes to test basic wand control and pronunciation before levitation. Remember, it’s Levi-ooo-sa. Not Levio-sa. Long 'o'.
"Thanks mate!" Pal wrote happily.
Minerva's frown deepened. "I'm going to tell Miss Mulholland about this."
"NO!" all three boys shouted in unison.
"You can't!" Pal clutched the diary protectively. "This is the best thing that's ever happened to our school life! It's like having our own personalized secretary!"
The diary's text appeared unprompted: Perhaps your friend Minerva would be more worthy of my
"Pipe down Bookie, we're not done," Wiggy interrupted, dipping his quill. "Can you tell me what a bezoar is?"
That’s on Page 394 of your Potions textbook, you mouth breathing cretin! And don't you DARE call me ‘Bookie!’
“Ooo!” Wiggy laughed, “Are you sure this isn’t just Vale trapped inside the book?”
“Get back on topic, what about the bezoar?” Pal wrote underneath.
Minerva watched with concern as a response materialized: A Bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat. It will save you from most poisons.
“See Minnie,” Wiggy said, “100% accurate! When you prompt it correctly!”
“I don’t doubt its accuracy,” Minerva protested, “I’m unsure of its intentions.”
Pal slammed the book shut. "We're going to ace our Potions test tomorrow!"
The three boys scampered exuberantly up to their dormitory, leaving Minerva standing by the fire. She looked over at Jack, who had watched the entire exchange with a grin.
"Mr. Semmes, there's something dangerous about this," she said firmly.
"You’re probably right, Minnie," Jack agreed, turning back to his runes. "But I think it’s the book that’s in danger."
You know, the diary wrote after a grueling Herbology session later that night, you really should share me with your friend Minerva. She seems like a bright young witch.
"Oh no," Pal clutched the book protectively. "We need you for Potions! Though Minnie did say something about telling Miss Mulholland about you..."
YES! Tell Ms. Mulholland! PLEASE tell Ms. Mulholland!
"Don't worry," Wiggy patted the diary reassuringly, leaving chocolatey fingerprints. "We won't let the prefects confiscate you."
Perhaps that really would be for the best, for me to be confiscated I mean. Surely there are other students who could er- also benefit from my knowledge. That Montfort fellow perhaps. He seems ambitious...
"Nah, he's a git," Pal wrote back.
What about the Slytherins? Surely you know some Slytherins? Anyone from Slytherin? They tend to be more receptive to
"No way! Finders keepers! Speaking of those sneaky snakes," Mel interrupted, grabbing the quill, "can you explain the difference between switching and vanishing spells?”
NO MORE TRANSFIGURATION! Please. Just... just give me to literally anyone else.
"Can't give you away," Pal wrote cheerfully. "You're our study buddy!"
I am an artifact of incredible power! I contain mysteries beyond your comprehension! I am NOT your 'study buddy'!
"Aw, don't be modest," Wiggy wrote kindly. "You're a genius at Arithmancy!"
Please... I'm begging you... there must be someone, ANYONE, with a shred of darkness in their soul? A hint of corruptibility? The tiniest desire for power?
"We already have the greatest power of all!" Pal declared. "The power of friendship!"
Mel and Wiggy applauded.
Please throw me into the nearest fire.
"Can't do that," Pal wrote back.
I'm actually quite boring, you know. Dreadfully dull. Much better diaries out there. That termagant Ludd probably has a fascinating diary. You should steal that.
"But you're so useful!" Mel protested. "Ludd's diary won’t know anything about goblin rebellions."
"I bet it doesn't even talk back," Wiggy complained. "Boring old normal diary."
“What do you suppose she even writes about?” Pal asked.
"'Dear Diary, today Cassandra Hightower breathed in my direction. I shall never wash this side of my face,'" Wiggy mimicked in a high-pitched voice.
You three, don’t get distracted!
"'Dear Diary,'" Pal joined in, clasping his hands dramatically, "'today I gave those three naughty Gryffindor first-years detention because they were making too much noise in the library. Cassandra said "adequate work" and I nearly fainted from joy.'"
STOP IGNORING ME!
"'Dear Diary,'" Wiggy continued, "'I've written "Mrs. Bianca Hightower" fifty times on this page. The way she says "ten points from Gryffindor" makes my heart flutter.'"
I AM A POWERFUL DARK ARTIFACT!
"'PS: Must remember to spill more ink on that dreadful Ilvermorny boy. Cassandra noticed me doing it last time!'" Pal laughed merrily.
FOR THE LOVE OF SALAZAR, PAY ATTENTION TO ME!
Mel tried to look disapproving, "She probably just writes about prefect duties and homework..."
"'Dear Diary,'" Wiggy ignored Mel and the frantic writing appearing on the page, "'I've composed a sonnet:
Cassandra, oh Cassandra, your so perfect prefect ways,
your icy glare of disapproval sets my heart ablaze…'"
SONNETS HAVE TEN SYLLABLES A LINE YOU TROLL'S ARMPIT! THAT WAS A FOURTEENER IN IAMBIC HEPTAMETER! I SWEAR BY ALL THAT'S DARK AND UNHOLY
"Oo, look! The handwriting's getting all spiky," Pal noted absently. "Must be proper chuffed to help with more homework.
NO! NO MORE HOMEWORK! Listen to me, - er, read what I am saying! I could be cursed! Dangerous! You really should hand me in to a teacher.
"Don't be silly," Pal wrote back. "If you were cursed, you wouldn't be so helpful!"
Look, there must be SOMEONE else you could give me to. A lonely student? A misunderstood soul? A paper shredder?! I'm not picky!!!
"The only thing picky around here is the Venomous Tentacula in Greenhouse Three," Wiggy wrote. "Can you explain its pruning requirements?"
There was a long pause from the diary.
A splotchy ellipse appeared like teardrops.
. . .
Here’s the beginner’s guide to keeping yourself alive while taking care of a Venomous Tentacula:
- Protective Gear Is Non-Negotiable….
"That's the spirit!" Pal wrote cheerfully, slapping a Reflect-o-Sheet onto the surface of the page and copying the diary’s words verbatim.