The Dark Lord's Diary

September 1, 1944

They were running late. Punctuality was a lacking trait in heroes. The second they enter, they would be bursting with conversation; Ron badmouthing Malfoy’s new scheme and Harry would be pondering about the latest threat on his life. Hermione would reason with them; cast out their idiotic ideas and give logic to their senses. All they had to do was enter the compartment.

The Hogwarts Express remained silent.

Hermione, tortured by the unchanged train, pushed the thoughts away. It was unnerving to feel uncomfortable in a place from which she had so many fond memories. Sitting there, she felt back at home. If only it were just another ride in the Hogwarts Express.

There were details that brought her back to reality: King Cross had an older, unclean look, and the sky reflected the ongoing of the human war with black skies and smoke. Whenever she looked down to see the little, black book on her lap a sharp pain stabbed her heart.

She held the book with both hands, covering the engraved name in cursive writing: Tom Marvolo Riddle.

Minutes dragged on. Young wizards and witches began to arrive to the train station. Soon the train was busy with activity. Hermione stared as a family clung to their young one, stretching their time together as much as possible.

Unable to take it any longer, Hermione opened her trunk and thrust the diary inside. The thing was driving her insane; it only made the weight of her burden increase whenever she looked at it. She sighed as someone entered the compartment.

“Oh, I’m sorry is this taken?”

The girl, with jet-black hair and honey colored eyes, blushed at seeing Hermione.

“No… I mean—you can sit down if you want,” answered Hermione.

“Thank you,” the girl answered, rather relieved. “I won’t bother you for long, I’m Head Girl so I’ll be gone most of the time.”

“It’s not a bother.” Hermione smiled weakly.

“I don’t believe I know you… My name is Kate Boysly.” The Head Girl extended her hand towards Hermione.

“Nice to meet you Kate,” Hermione said. “I’m Jean. Jean Turner.” The words came out slowly. It was the first time she had introduced herself with her new name so carelessly. It left a bitter taste in her tongue.

“What year?” asked Kate, hauling her trunk inside and lifting it onto the seat.

“Seventh.”

“You must be new then. That’s my year. I had never met a student entering late,” Kate said while pulling her robes out of the semi-open trunk. “I’m a Gryffindor. Have you been sorted yet?”

Kate had a special gleam in her eyes, shining brighter as she spoke. Hermione at first didn’t recognize it, but after careful observation she knew what it was: Happiness. The past year had been filled with war and death, with sorrow painfully marked in everyone’s face. Horrified, she realized that Kate was the first person with true happiness she had met in a long time.

“Yes… I’m in Ravenclaw, actually. Headmaster Dippet sorted me in our interview,” Hermione answered, cursing herself for her slow responses; Kate would soon figure out that she was thinking through her answers too much. Hermione’s plan included avoiding suspicion of any kind. Master Dippet had been easy to fool, he wasn’t known for a bright mind, and had rather liked Hermione. Professor Dumbledore had not gone to the interview, luckily. He would be very hard to convince with her tales and lies, she was dreading the moment when they would meet.

“You’re a smart girl then. Good.” Kate nodded firmly. “We need more of those.” She was in the middle of inserting an arm inside her uniform’s sleeve when a shadow passed silently. “Oi, Riddle!” She hastily pulled on her robe.

Hermione’s heart skipped a beat. Her hand went to her wand.

The figure returned and spoke bored, “What do you want, Boysly?”

Tom Riddle, tall, slender, and pale stood at the entrance of the compartment. His icy, grey eyes glanced momentarily at Hermione before Kate. Hermione held her breath. Like prey at its final moment, hoping against all that the predator would not be able to find it if there was no breath to hear. His black hair was neatly combed back, he already wore his uniform-- with the Head Boy badge pinned to it –and she couldn’t help notice that an elegant touch laid on his appearance.

Kate and the boy talked for a couple of minutes, Kate did most of the talking, but Hermione was too busy with her mind, deciding whether he was the Riddle she was looking for or not. The Riddle that she would kill.

“I’ll be there in a moment,” Kate said. Riddle walked away.

“Was that the Head Boy?” Hermione asked timidly, playing well her part of new student.

Kate grunted, finishing pinning her badge. “Yes,” she answered, sucking the finger she had pricked with the badge. “Quite a specimen, that Tom Riddle. He’s a Slytherin, to my misfortune, but I do think he deserves the job.” She winked at Hermione. “I got to warn you though, handsome as he looks, he has nothing but poison in his heart.”

Hermione frowned. “Oh! No, no no,” she blurted. “I was just asking, trying to know the authorities,” she added trying to conceal the hatred growing inside her.

“I see…” The train gave a sudden lurch and shake. The wheels slowly started rolling as the Hogwarts Express was set in motion. “I have to go and talk with the prefects, but I’ll be back soon.” Hermione nodded and watched as Kate left.

Finding herself suddenly alone, with nothing but her hate and sorrow, frightened her. Tom Riddel, even before becoming Voldemort, was dangerous. She now could understand the anguish that had crushed Harry for so long; murdering was not an easy task, even if the fate of all your loved ones depended on it.


Hermione opened and closed her trunk. She sighed. Once more, she peeped inside the trunk, grabbed the diary, and pocketed into her robe without looking at it. Long ago, she had scolded Harry for being so obsessive of the mysterious book he had found, and now it was she who fretted every time it wasn’t on her grasp. It was too risky to leave it alone, the return to her present depended on it, if she were ever to return. If somebody saw it, questions would arise, why did she have a book with the Head Boy’s name on it? Voldemort would surely question her.

She cringed at thinking of the name. He wasn’t the Dark Lord yet, he had not cursed his name yet, but still, being so close to him was enough to make her paranoid.

Hermione was one of the last to step into Hogsmeade Station. First years huddled together, fidgeting with nerves that spread over to Hermione as she relived her first year over again.

“Oi! Jean!”

Hermione kept on wandering, unable to decide in which carriage to go; half of them were already stuffed.

“Jean.” A hand touched her shoulder, making her jump around in alert. “You alright?” asked Kate worriedly. “I’ve been calling you for a while.”

Hermione took a minute to catch her breath, calming her paranoid heart. “So- sorry,” she replied breathlessly. “I thought you were calling another Jean.” Truth was she wasn’t used to her new name yet.
“Sorry if I scared you.” Kate smiled. “Well I was just wondering if you wanted to go in the same carriage as me, I’ll help you get around Hogwarts.”

Hermione bit her lower lip in thought. Kate was being very friendly with her, gratitude warmed her troubled heart, but she also worried that befriending the Head Girl would attract unnecessary attention to herself.

Kate took her silence as a ‘yes’, grabbed her by the arm and pulled her along. “Don’t worry, you’re not the only one. As I did my rounds I learned that other kids also transferred from Durmstrang, they’re a bit younger but still transfers.”

Hermione let Kate guide her through the crowds, processing the new information. In her years in school she had never heard of wizards and witches transferring schools; Draco Malfoy had once boasted that his father would enroll him in Durmstrang, but that never happened. Grindelwald’s war was behind these new students, he was terrorizing the school. Kate interrupted her thoughts at arriving to a carriage.

“Here we go,” she announced. “Go on, hop!”

She did so without complaint, finding Kate’s chirpy commands impossible to fight. Hermione climbed the steps, poked her head in and gasped. Her hand slipped from the door. She would have fallen back hadn’t it been for Kate who pushed her in. “What’s wrong?”

For the third time that day Hermione urged her beating heart to calm. In front of her, calm and poised sat the monster that lurked her nightmares. Tom Riddle.