Ginny's muffled sobs still echoed faintly in the air, her small body trembling. Astoria and Luna, though both already shocked by Tom's bold accusations earlier, found themselves stunned once again—this time by the boy's utterly ruthless, unflinching way of handling things.
Astoria had never seen Tom treat someone like this before. He wasn't just scolding; he was toying with Ginny, bending her into obedience with words as sharp as a knife. Still, she said nothing in Ginny's defense. After all, Ginny had nearly caused a disaster. Punishment, harsh as it was, seemed fair.
Luna, meanwhile, tilted her head as if hearing music no one else could. Her peculiar intuition whispered that Tom harbored no true malice. His cruelty was more performance than venom, perhaps meant to frighten Ginny into submission—or simply a reflection of his dark sense of humor. Either way, Luna wasn't worried.
"Stand up," Tom ordered, shaking the diary in his hand like a leash. The meaning was plain.
Ginny rose like a puppet on strings, hollow-eyed and obedient.
Tom reached into his robes, produced a slim black notebook, and pressed it into her hands. "Since I confiscated your precious diary, Ginny Weasley, I'll give you another."
Before Ginny could answer, he turned and tossed a second one toward Luna. "You too, Lovegood. Astoria will teach you both how to use them."
Astoria's eyes sparkled with pride as she explained the enchanted notebooks. Soon Ginny, blinking through her tears, was testing them out—scribbling a line to Luna, then to Astoria, watching the words blossom on their pages. Wonder gradually replaced despair, if only for a moment.
"This… this was your invention?" she asked softly.
"Of course it was Tom's," Astoria cut in before he could speak, chest puffed out like she'd done the work herself. "It's brilliant! Even when you go home, you'll still be able to talk to us instantly. No owls, no waiting. Just write."
Ginny frowned a little, whispering, "But… Astoria, Luna and I live in the same village. One on the hill, one in the valley. We can walk to each other's houses in minutes."
Astoria froze, her cheeks flushing. "That's… different! You still have to climb that hill, don't you? Writing in a notebook is far more convenient!"
Ginny nodded gravely, as if considering it a sound argument. "That's true."
She and Luna weren't mere school friends, after all. Their bond went further back—childhood companions before tragedy reshaped Luna into the odd, dreamy girl she was now. Ginny couldn't help sneaking a glance at Tom, biting her lip. What is it with people named Tom Riddle and notebooks…?
But her musings shattered under Tom's next command.
"You like writing so much? Good. From now on, every day you'll report to me. What you did, what you saw, when you ate, when you slept. Everything. Miss a day, or hide something from me, and…"
He didn't finish. He didn't need to. The cold smile said enough.
Ginny shivered violently, shrinking in on herself. "I—I understand…" she whispered. Then, in a tiny, desperate voice: "But… will you promise not to tell the professors? Not even the Headmaster?"
Her pleading eyes searched his face, clinging to hope. Surely, after all this, it would end here.
But Tom's answer was a calm, merciless shake of the head.
"No. Dumbledore will know. He's the Headmaster; this is too serious to hide from him. But… he'll probably cover for you. Keep it quiet from the other professors."
Ginny exhaled shakily. That was something, at least. If her family and classmates never found out, she could still go on living. Barely.
Tom waved dismissively. "Enough. Go. Lovegood—thanks for helping me today. Consider the favor returned, in time."
Ginny grabbed Luna's hand and fled the room as if escaping Azkaban itself. Yet once the heavy door closed behind her, she realized… she felt oddly lighter. The secret was out, the truth dragged into daylight. And though it was terrifying, at least it was settled. The gnawing dread of endless unknowns was gone.
She turned back. The strange door had vanished, leaving only a blank stretch of stone wall.
Inside, Tom lingered in the Room of Requirement, not immediately opening the diary to confront the other "Tom." Instead, he turned to Astoria, lavishing her with praise until her cheeks burned crimson. He teased, flattered, and soothed her until the girl's shy smile was glowing brighter than the firelight. Only then did he coax her into drinking a few potions—stronger, hardier brews meant to fortify her frail body.
Astoria was clever, loyal, and brave in her way—but fragile, too fragile. Tom intended to change that.
Later, the pair slipped quietly back into the Slytherin common room. The atmosphere there was bleak and heavy. Where Gryffindor had celebrated their "miracle draw" as if it were a victory, Slytherin sulked. They'd squandered a near-certain win, and bitterness hung over every corner.
The blame, naturally, fell on Malfoy. He sulked in the shadows with Crabbe and Goyle, shoulders hunched, face stormy. No one offered comfort. This was Slytherin: reality mattered more than feelings, and failure was failure.
"Where were you two?"
Daphne stood waiting, arms akimbo, cheeks puffed in anger. She glared between her sister and Tom. "You disappeared again. Both of you. For hours. Together. And you didn't even ask me to come along!"
Lately, Daphne's unease had only grown sharper. Tom and Astoria were whispering more and more, hiding things from her—and from Hermione, too. After the match, both had vanished at the same time, gone for nearly two and a half hours, only to return together looking suspiciously flushed and pleased with themselves.
This feels exactly like those romance dramas Mother reads… Daphne thought bitterly. If they don't explain themselves right now, I'll—
Tom and Astoria shared a look, both exhaling in silent resignation.
"This is your sister," Tom said smoothly, stepping back and handing the problem off. "You deal with her."
He'd promised Ginny not to tell anyone but Dumbledore—but Daphne and Hermione were exceptions in his mind. They weren't "anyone." They were… his people.
Astoria tugged her sister into a quieter corner, smiling wryly. "Daphne… I was helping Tom with something important. Today, it finally got resolved."
Her words only made Daphne bristle more. "And why couldn't I help? Why didn't he come to me first, instead of you?"
She stamped her foot, eyes narrowing, her voice rising in accusation.
Astoria blinked, half amused, half exasperated. Merlin's beard… is she actually jealous of me?
Her big sister, jealous. Of her.
Astoria could only sigh, dragging her sister further out of earshot, knowing that if she didn't soothe this brewing storm now, Daphne might explode in the middle of the common room.