In the Great Hall, hardly anyone had noticed the peculiar magazine at first. But once the Gryffindors called it out, a mad scramble broke out for the few precious copies. In the end, the magazines all landed in the hands of upper-year students from each House.
After all, hardly anyone actually subscribed to such an obscure publication. Nearly every time, it was Luna Lovegood—the eccentric Ravenclaw first-year and daughter of The Quibbler's editor, Mr. Lovegood—who would hand out a few free issues as a form of promotion.
Last time, it was Luna's Quibbler that had "slandered" Professor Holmes, souring some students on the magazine and on Luna herself. Many thought her family's paper was nothing but wild tall tales, written to amuse a certain kind of reader.
Hermione curled her lip at the magazine. "Who'd waste money on a rag full of ridiculous gossip and laughable stories?"
Ron chimed in, "Still, that issue about Lockhart and Professor Holmes must've made them a bundle. Otherwise, how could they afford this special edition?"
He peered at the cover. "The Half-Blood Prince of Slytherin. Bet it was some Slytherin half-blood who bankrolled them. Honestly, for the right price, they'll print anything… Just look at the faces on those Slytherin pure-bloods…"
Harry couldn't help thinking that any Slytherin bold enough to call himself the Half-Blood Prince must be every bit as vain as Lockhart. The kind to demand his "best photograph" be used even before a trial.
But then he remembered how the Sorting Hat had nearly placed him in Slytherin. If he'd really ended up there, he reckoned he'd have claimed the title Half-Blood Prince himself—just to lord it over all those Slytherins obsessed with blood purity.
The image made him snicker, picturing the looks on their faces.
Ron stared at him, puzzled.
Just then, Colin Creevey piped up, "Harry! Harry! Aren't you a half-blood too?"
Harry shot him a glare. "Shut it, Colin. I don't fancy being Gryffindor's Half-Blood Prince."
Ron slung an arm around Harry's shoulders, raising his eyebrows. "Don't forget, Colin—our Harry's the great Boy Who Lived. Even if Slytherin's king showed up, he'd have to bow to our savior!"
Everyone burst out laughing, Harry included. Somehow, he found he rather liked the title—if only it could really make the Slytherins bow to him.
Breakfast was winding down. Professors had started to file out of the hall. Those upper-years lucky enough to snag a magazine had already skimmed to the end.
For once, upper-year students from all four Houses were laughing together, clearly satisfied. It seemed the fate of "John" at the end of the story struck a chord with them. Even Slytherin's pure-bloods, who'd started out scowling, looked quite pleased.
They figured the Slytherin half-bloods should all read the story—let them see that even if you rule among the half-bloods, in the end, you're just a toy for the pure-blood families. The book didn't say whether the mistresses were pure-bloods, but anyone who could wield such extreme dark magic surely wasn't some half-blood or Muggle-born upstart.
Split into seven parts—just the thought of such black magic made even the pure-bloods shudder.
The other Houses, seeing the Slytherin character finally sealed away by dark magic, cheered as well. Still, even with such a satisfying ending, plenty of students found themselves envying John's life. Some even compared his girl-chasing methods to those in the legendary Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches—and decided John's tactics were far superior.
To them, Mr. Lovegood, who'd penned the story, must be a true master of the art. Worshipful, really!
They all resolved to subscribe to The Quibbler from now on—especially this issue. Maybe, just maybe, they could pick up a trick or two between the lines.
The upper-years' reactions left the lower-years itching with curiosity. Those with a few extra Galleons rushed over to the dreamy Luna, begging her to help them order a copy.
Harry had half a mind to subscribe as well, but the look on Hermione's face made him reconsider. He'd just borrow it from someone else once the fuss died down.
By evening, the story had spread throughout the castle. Nearly every student knew about it. Quite a few boys and girls had even become fans of John Prince. Some lads—either chasing after love or already successful—ranked this story right up there with Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches as the ultimate guide to wooing witches.
Some were convinced that, if they could just master the tricks in the book, they too could live as dashing a life as John. Among the girls, many thought John was the perfect boyfriend—talented, handsome, charming. Maybe that's why, even if they hated him, they still wanted him nearby forever.
Some girls were especially curious about the final sealing spell. A few, already in relationships, even joked that if their boyfriends ever betrayed them, they'd seal them inside a magical artifact—just like in the story.
—
In the Ravenclaw boys' dormitory, a fourth-year named Tom Cruise pulled an old diary from the trunk beneath his bed. The faded date on its cover marked it as fifty years old. The name scrawled on it—now half-blurred—read "Tom Riddle."
More than once, Tom Cruise had tried to scratch out Riddle's name and replace it with his own, but nothing worked. He suspected the original owner had used a permanent sticking charm to fix the name in place.
He'd bought the diary for five Knuts from a second-hand bookshop in Diagon Alley. Tom Cruise was born to a mixed family—his father a wizard, but gone missing when Tom was only three. Later, after entering the wizarding world, he'd discovered from old Daily Prophet clippings that his father had been killed by Death Eaters for being Muggle-born.
His mother had remarried and abandoned him when he was ten. Shuffled off to an orphanage by social workers, it was during those miserable, bullied days that his magic had first awakened.
When he finally arrived at Hogwarts, the Sorting Hat had placed him in Ravenclaw—a decision he'd always thought was mad, since he'd struggled near the bottom of his class from the start. Especially in Charms—he always seemed to have the hardest time picking up spells. Though Professor Flitwick assured him it was just a lack of confidence, it was hard to feel confident when everyone else was so far ahead.
Still, there was one thing he loved about Ravenclaw: the common room, which felt like a miniature library. Reading was his greatest joy.
During holidays, he'd do whatever odd jobs he could—both in the Muggle and wizarding worlds—to scrape together a little money. Then he'd spend every Knut and every spare hour trawling second-hand bookshops.
Right before term started, he'd spent two Knuts for a whole day's reading in one such shop. That day had felt magical: two wealthy customers had come in, both clearly from the upper crust. Neither bought anything for him, but it was rare to see such people in a place like that. One turned out to be his new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor; the other, the famous head of the Malfoy family and his soon-to-be-second-year son.
Tom had hidden in the corner, nose in a book. As he was leaving, he'd spotted this diary lying by a bookshelf and bought it for five Knuts.
He soon discovered that anything he wrote in the diary would get a response—sometimes even tips on spellwork. Thanks to the diary, he'd won rare praise from Professor Flitwick in Charms. The diary became his most treasured possession.
Until today, when he borrowed that special magazine and read about John's body being sealed inside a girl's diary—a diary that functioned exactly like his own.
It made him think back to the night before last, when he'd been chatting with "Tom" in the diary. But yesterday morning, he'd woken up exhausted, his clothes filthy, feeling as if he'd been run over by a herd of hippogriffs. At the time, he'd blamed it on some classmate's prank.
But now, he wasn't so sure. Maybe it was the diary.
He opened it, and wrote:
"Riddle, are you a part of someone's body sealed inside this diary?"
The words vanished.
And for a long, long time, there was no reply…
~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~
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