The next day, after I finished Potions, and Rose finished Herbology, we had a short break of about 20 minutes to do whatever we want. We both met up near the Whomping Willow, where we met a few other kids, a few boys from Gryffindor and a few giggling girls, probably from Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff. Rose and I quickly approached the lot and Rose started conversing with them, as if they were her BFF’s. That chatterbox. Anyways, I, on the other hand, quietly hung around behind them until a girl approached me and asked me, reaching out for my hand,
“My name is Skylar Johnson. You can call me Skye. I’m from Hufflepuff. What’s your name?”
“I’m James, James Potter. Gryffindor. Pleasure to meet you.” I replied softly, taking her hand and shaking it.
“Wait a second... are you Harry Potter’s son?” Skye asked, taken aback.
“Uh... yes, yes I am,” I confirmed, slightly hesitant.
“Woah!” she gasped, “That’s so cool!”
I had no idea if she was referring to my dad being cool or me being his son as cool,
but I decided to play along. I smiled and shrugged. I quickly exchanged goodbyes and ran towards the boys messing around by the tree.
“Hey! Aren’t you James Potter?” a boy asked as I neared him, saving me an introduction.
“Yeah, that’s me,” I replied.
“I’m Zac, short for Zachary Thomas. I’m also a Gryffindor. Since, we have some time, wanna play a game of tag with us?” he asked.
“Sure! Give me a sec. I’ll run over there and ask if the girls want to join us.” I shouted over my shoulders, as I had already had started to run to where the girls were standing.
“Wanna play tag? It’ll be loads of fun!” I asked.
“Yeah! We would really love to have some fun!” They exclaimed, chasing after me.
We enjoyed ourselves, playing around the tree, chatting, getting to know each other a little better. We were howling with laughter until the Willow started acting a little stranger than usual. We escaped from the thrashing branches. I kept observing it, even if nobody else was just to see what was happening.
Then, I realized it was nothing and I turned my back to the tree to join in the latest gossip circulating around the school. We were all whispering, giggling, and having a good time until I yelped out of pain. We didn’t know what hit me. Everybody looked up into the clear blue sky to confirm an attack, but there was none. I, however, looked at the ground to search if anything hit my head.
That's when I noticed an old, withered journal laying in front of me. I gently picked it up, cautious of any harm that could be caused. I carefully opened to see what was inside. It was full of cursive writing, a little illegible, but good enough for my eyes to read. Everybody gathered into a circle around me and started murmuring among themselves, curious about the contents inside.
I wasn’t exactly so worried about the what was inside, unlike everybody else. I was concerned about the owner of the journal. I started flipping through the pages, looking for the owner’s signature or a label, until I found this on the inside of the back cover:
This journal belongs to:
The Black Grim