The Heir’s Diary

The attacks had mysteriously vanished, which given the recent discovery, made sense.

The diary- the diary belonged to his father, who was the Heir of Slytherin! Somehow this book was the one opening the chamber and setting the monster loose.

Although he hadn't actually written in it yet, Adrian was too paranoid to leave it sitting out. He kept it on his body at all time, trapped within the anxiety ridden thoughts that somehow, someone would know that it was him.

The only thing to rattle him out of his sleepless thoughts was, somehow, Lockhart had gotten it in his head that he was the reason the attacks had stopped.

Lockhart's idea of a morale-booster became clear at breakfast on February fourteenth.

The walls were coated with disgustingly pink flowers. Worse still, heart-shaped confetti rained slowly from the pale blue ceiling.

Only Lockhart seemed to be enjoying himself, with the lurid pink robes to match the decorations.

The rest of the day, dwarves were hired to carry around singing valentines day cards.

The cards were rubbish at best. The highlight was the foul one, christened with glitter and red hearts sent from Lockhart to Snape during a house meeting.

Adrian had avoided the dwarves so far, mostly due to his infamous dealings. Daphne had received three, taking them all in grace.

Draco was dreading the event, knowing positively he would have at least one. The pale haired boy glued himself to Adrian's side, certain that Adrian would have a way to avoid the blasted creatures.

Adrian couldn't. Even running didn't deter one persistent dwarf which managed to chase them across an entire open courtyard. If it wasn't for the spell resistant skin, Adrian would have sent dozens of tripping spells hoping one would hit.

"Go get 'em!" One Gryffindor shouted, whooping loudly at the dwarf when he saw the target.

There was no way dwarves should be able to run up stairs that fast; they were so short the legs shouldn't be able to move that quickly.

"Is it after me, or you?" Adrian panted, although not looking as exhausted as Draco.

Draco was flushed, skin reddening and contrasting with his light hair.

"Doesn't matter," Draco panted, eyes sharpening with a look of Slytherin cunning, "It's getting you."

Adrian took a moment to puzzle over Draco's words, not understanding foreboding tone.

Draco turned, and smacked Adrian lightly across his chest. Considering how fast they were sprinting up the steps, the even slight push was enough to topple Adrian to the ground.

He grunted, hitting the ground and catching a glimpse of Draco managing to escape.

"Draco!" He shouted, half angry although half amused by the absurdity of the situation.

They were being chased by a dwarf wearing a diaper.

It wasn't nearly as funny once the Dwarf shouted loudly in victory and nearly tackled Adrian against the ground.

"Finally!" The dwarf grunted, shuffling in its side back for a slip of folded parchment. It cleared its throat, and Adrian knocked his head against the stone steps again.

"He's the kid that boy Selwyn,

Who'll sell you treats or pigskin,

And find you stuff right out of books,

He'll save your skin with his looks!"

Adrian blinked, the poem was almost as absurd as the situation.

Someone burst into cackling laughter, Draco had peered out from the top of the staircase, having heard the valentine.

"We don't talk about this," Adrian grumbled, trying to dislodge the dwarf from where it sat on his chest.

"As if!" Draco cackled, "Oh Adrian! Will you fetch me pigskin?"

"Oi!" The dwarf looked at Draco speculatively, "I got one for you too!"

Draco paled, and turned to run.

"'We don't talk about this' my arse!" Adrian shouted, finally able to catch his breath when the dwarf jumped off his chest in hot pursuit once again.

Thankfully, it was the last valentine he received that day.

Draco wasn't as lucky.

....

'Hello' Adrian wrote with the Eagle-feather quill Hermione gave him, 'I know who you are.'

Adrian wasn't sure if it would even work. It was a considerable risk, also considering that he didn't know if it would trigger the dark magic or curse. He had his tattoo ready to send a warning and explain what he had done in the case of an unspeakable curse.

The ink was absorbed instantly into the diary; in seconds fine spidery handwriting wrote itself across the pages, 'Hello, I'm sorry I believe we haven't met. My name is Tom Riddle, who are you?'

Adrian chewed his bottom lip, he didn't feel anything different. Perhaps there was no curse, or maybe he had to interact with it longer.

The handwriting was the exact same, all doubt he had for its true creator vanished.

Should he answer realistically?

"Lutain?" Adrian hissed, peering around his room. Almost on cue his familiar slid out of his charmed box, flickering his tongue quizzically.

"Yes, Master?" Lutain looked at the book in puzzlement, not seeing why Adrian was speaking so cautiously.

"This book, it's possibly very cursed." Adrian paused, "If something happens, I need you to push the book or hide it, and get help for me."

Lutain tensed, "Is it smart to work with curses?"

"Probably not, but it's my father's." Adrian swallowed, "And it involves the Chamber. Just...watch the door, you remember how to turn the handle? Alright, wish me luck."

Adrian ignored how his snake watched cautiously. He dipped his quill in ink and scratched out the letters painfully slow.

'Adrian Selwyn.' He wrote, watching the words vanish into the pages themselves.

'Hello then, Adrian.' It replied almost instantly, seeming so friendly, 'It's a pleasure to meet you.'

....

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