Found and Reading
Theodore’s fingers hovered over the open book; the frenzied pages tightly held in our fingers, their frantic haze priorly in comparison to their stillness by now. Both of us were sat on the stone tiled floor, the chill of the night not as bothersome as the night before. Theodore kept giving me side eyed glances every now and then, none of us making the first move to read whatever this peculiar diary contained. Though unfolded, the diary’s pages seemed akin to emptiness; the first page was blank, then the third, then the fourth, fifth, until we reached the end, Theodore shutting the book once again with a loud thudding noise echoing the entire bustling room.
“...So, we went through all this trouble for nothing.” Theodore’s voice came out ragged, “There’s nothing here. We just wasted our time.” He continued, exclaiming his thoughts as a matter of fact rather than a speculation. His tongue clicked over his teeth, throwing his head back against the wall with flattered shut eyelids.
“Maybe we did something wrong? Maybe it needs something... more .”
“As in another spell? You might be onto something, gnocchi.”
I rolled my eyes in response to Theodore’s silly little pet name he had decided to cast upon me – more like ironically bless me with – as he drew out his wand from beneath his robes.
“If this doesn’t work, I will burn the castle.”
“Hopefully without us inside...?”
“Only one way to find out.” Theodore chuckled playfully, in a way I wasn’t used to see him as loose as he was now, especially not expecting to see this side of him around me. He pointed the tip of his wand, as his free hand unsealed the thick diary ajar, the first page of the book staring blankly up at us.
“Revelio .” He mumbled in uncertainty under his breath, the spell barely audible in my ears at the lowness of his voice. But the diary seemed to catch on quicker than my hearing. The page lit up in a bright yellow light that was blinding, the tiny, transparent sparks of the spell levitating before our eyes, so close to our faces that we could nearly touch them. Then, it appeared. The first word, then the second, until the first page was revealed before our eyes. My finger turned the next page, wanting to make sure the spell had worked. And, of course, it had. Every page was filled with scattered letters and phrases all over the old parchment, seeming more like gibberish than actual scratched with quills syllables.
“ Love is but an illusion, yet ours shines brighter than any star. ” The same phrase appeared brighter than before, ringing true to its secretly hidden implication lost in the course of time. This time, Theodore had read it, his brows slightly furrowed in same amount of confusion and amusement.
Theodore turned the next page of the book, since the first one only carried that neatly handwritten phrase. There were no names of the owner, no sign of ownership for the poor diary now in the mercy of our hands. Not the best duo of Slytherins to be left with, if we were honest.
“...What is this?” Theodore threw a rhetorical question bordering no answer back, his upper lip forging a scowling grimace of skepticism as his eyes roamed over the pages. He kept turning every page, sending them flying one after another as swiftly as possible, his eyes roamed over the pages hysterically, his head following the movement of his gaze, turning and spinning. My eyes widened in shock, taken aback by Theodore’s displeasure of our finding.
“What is it? I can’t see.”
Theodore simply scoffed, not bothering to give me a clear answer to his discomfort, shoving the book right in my face, as if a lever had switched in his perplexed brain to turn back into an asshole. I shot him a warning glare but didn’t want to cause an argument. At least not yet. My curiosity only piqued, overpowering my snappy, audacious self. The diary was now in my fingers, biting on my bottom lip as I turned to the second page of the book. My eyes were greeted with countless of letters, which was weirdly confusing, sending my eyebrows to frown down to my squinted eyes. I hummed thoughtfully, turning yet another page, only for the same experience to be repeated, my mouth scowling the same way Theodore – who was sat next to me – had that grimace all this time. These letters seemed... paired, one could state upon casting a single glance at these pages. So many, nearly countless, of letters paired.
“... R+S=I’m mental about you . ”
“Who do these people think they are, poets, artists? What is this?”
“Love, maybe?”
“Love doesn’t make you mental, Knight.”
“Wouldn’t you know, weather boy.” I mumbled sarcastically under my breath with an exhale that slumped my shoulders loosely as I leaned back against the hard planes of stones covering the wall. Fingers still gently grasping the edges of the paper, trying my best not to crumble them from holding onto the mere empathy of warmth seeping into anyone’s guarded heart. Something Mister Nott was unable to understand; the desperation to leave a trail of what it once felt to love that these people had left behind. The desperation to secretly hint their identity and affection for one another. Something I found admirable. Bold and daring. Maybe these people were Gryffindors? Who knew, their initials could only hint who they truly were without much precision. Their handwritings were smudged due to the passage of time, the ink still smelling freshly spilled as if bought by the Diagon Alley just yesterday.
These letters were everywhere, anywhere your gaze may fall upon, anywhere the human eye could reach. It stirred my stomach with nostalgy, longing for a love as lasting as theirs. There were scrabbled letters on top of others, many J+L being overwritten with J+R most of the times with a different, signature handwriting, some more calligraphic than the clumsy, uneven lettered ones. Then, the same pair was scribbled away, like a past memory, with S+L, which seemed more shyly declared over the paper, booking the corners instead of the center of the pages the same way J+R or R+S did. There were phrases, romantic vows, that were equally cheeky and envied with their love being preserved safely after all these years. ‘ I look at you and wonder, why do poets even try’ was written under some J+R letters, implying the beauty coming from within and out of these specific people, I noted to myself. ‘ I tell the stars about you’, another well written cursive said, making the reader capture those damned emotions through each stroke of their quills. Then, as we reached the middle of the diary, that J+R disappeared, scribbled away with rough lines circling that pair of two letters, making them barely noticeable, barely seen. Having to turn the page, hesitantly, to observe with great rigour to make out the letters.
“You seem very invested. Do you know these people?”
“These people may be dead by now; how could I know them, mate.”
“I don’t know, maybe you had drinks with them last Friday.”
“Ha ha. Very funny.”
“We should write something as well. You know, to always remember this detention. To make it even more memorable.”
“...This is a love diary.”
“And I am a Hippogriff with fairy wings. Let’s write. For scientific purposes!”
Theodore chuckled to himself, snatching the diary from my hands without much thought as his fingers scratched my fingertips, conjuring a feathery quill with a flick of his long fingers, through nothing but plain air. Such magical abilities were always admired, especially when Theodore acted so nonchalant about it. His expression serious, neutral; his thick brows evenly structured in an even line; thin lips tightly shut in a slit, broad yet slender shoulders guarded as he placed the diary on his lap, proceeding to doodle some words over the paper with a concealed snicker.
“ Love is but an illusion. Get over it .” Theodore read out loud the sentence he wrote with a smug, crooked smirk playing at the corner of his mouth, offering me the diary to read it myself. I couldn’t help but let out a giggle at his clumsy, straight letters, each closer to the one prior, making it a tad bit difficult to make out. I grabbed the quill from Theodore’s fingers, twirling it for counted seconds on my left hand as I considered my own witty phrase. Then, with a sudden sense of purpose, I lowered my head to the pages of the diary, beginning to write as Theodore tried to sneak a peek.
“Stars told me a secret: you are a bitch.” I read; my chest puffed with confidence.
“Merlin, harsh much?” Theodore laughed loudly, shoving my shoulder with his own board one, nearly sending me off balance as he took the diary back to his hands, scribbling the next thought that crossed his mind.
He cleared his throat as soon as he was done, exhibiting his phrase before himself and me, his hands stretched in front of him with the diary still in his fingers.
“What shines brighter is this di--”
“Oi! You can’t say that!”
“I just did, gnocchi.” Theodore winked playfully at me, finishing the lewd sentence with a roll of my eyes before giving the diary back to me.
“ I look at you and never wondered why your father left. ”
“ Merda , Knight... Fatherless behavior, to be honest.”
“Shut up. Your turn.”
I gave the diary back at Theodore with a scoff, which he immediately held with eagerness, the quill burning the pages at the fast pace of his writing.
“ I’d rather die than continue living at the same universe as you. ”
“Absolutely bollocks, Nott!”
“Girl, what does that even mean?”
With that, both Theodore and I began hysterically laughing, unable to keep up the serious act after whatever this was. Theodore pushed me with his hands as he threw his head back and forth, left and right in an uncontrolled fit of giggles. Both of us having to wipe the tears from our eyes as I shoved Theodore back in yet another circle of delirious laughter, our bodies shaking, the diary laying on the floor unmoving with our phrases engraved in the last page so we could forever find them.
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Author's note:
fyi, i listened to the entire Hamilton musical while writing this (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)