"All groundbreaking scientific discoveries begin with questionable safety practices," I muttered sagely to myself as I cautiously approached the Whomping Willow. The sun hung low over Hogwarts, casting long shadows across the grass, turning the usually pleasant grounds into something resembling an ominous testing ground.
The Willow seemed to sense my approach and shifted slightly, branches creaking like old wooden bones. I held up the diary, waving it toward the tree experimentally. Predictably, a branch whipped through the air—directly at my head.
"Oh, come on," I groaned, diving out of the way just in time. "The diary, you angry wooden menace! The diary!"
I picked myself off the ground and brushed dirt from my robes, narrowing my eyes at the tree. Clearly, it needed better incentives. A quick illusion charm later, and a disturbingly accurate replica of Neville hovered hesitantly toward the tree.
"Sorry, Neville," I whispered apologetically. "I promise it's for science."
The Willow exploded into action, violently demolishing the faux-Neville into a shower of sparks and dust.
"Fascinating," I noted dryly. "So you'll crush a Neville dummy, but not a possessed diary. This isn't discriminatory at all."
Another few attempts ended in similar failure, each accompanied by me dodging wildly swinging branches. Eventually, sprawled and slightly bruised, I realized that direct physical testing might need more finesse.
—
"Alright, you oversized shrub, let's try diplomacy," I said, gingerly stepping toward the Willow again. "Clearly, we got off on the wrong branch here—no pun intended."
The Willow shuddered, branches twitching in agitation. I rolled my eyes, pulling several pebbles from my pocket, and with a flick of my wand, transformed them into exact replicas of the diary. "Maybe these will be more convincing."
One by one, I levitated the diary decoys toward the tree. With vicious efficiency, the Willow pulverized each fake diary into oblivion.
"Interesting," I muttered, scribbling notes. "Capable of destruction but discriminating about targets."
Emboldened, I tried again with the real diary, carefully levitating it closer. Unfortunately, the tree suddenly seemed to catch on, a branch swiping at me with unnerving accuracy.
"Oh, Merlin—" was all I managed before ducking and stumbling backward into Hermione.
"Sky!" she gasped, steadying me. "What on earth are you doing?"
"Advanced magical theory research?" I offered sheepishly.
"With the Whomping Willow?" she demanded incredulously.
"It's very advanced theory," I replied, straightening my robes and smiling weakly. "Possibly groundbreaking."
Hermione stared at me with a mixture of disbelief and concern. "Your version of groundbreaking usually ends up in Madam Pomfrey's ward."
I shrugged, flashing her a cheerful grin. "Occupational hazard."
She sighed deeply. "Sky, please, can you at least attempt something less deadly next time?"
"No promises," I said earnestly. "But I'll definitely try. By the way, how's your Occlumency coming along?"
Hermione's eyes brightened slightly, her irritation fading into a faint smile. "Oh, I've actually finished it. I mastered it while we were in France."
I blinked, genuinely surprised. "Finished? Why didn't you mention it?"
She shrugged a little sheepishly. "You were so busy working with Nicholas Flamel—I didn't want to bother you. Then afterward, time just seemed to keep passing by, and honestly, I forgot all about it."
—
That night, safe in the dimly lit sanctum of my warehouse trunk lab, I carefully placed the diary on a polished oak table, surrounded by protective wards and various magical instruments. I pulled out my notes, methodically reviewing my observations.
"Physical resilience: inconclusive due to Whomping Willow's peculiar avoidance," I murmured, glaring at the book like it had killed my pet rat.
"Magical response: negligible. Potential dark magic resonance: disturbingly high."
Taking a deep breath, I cast a careful revealing charm. Immediately, the room darkened slightly, whispers filling the air—indistinct but menacing. An oily black smoke seeped briefly from the diary before dissipating.
"Definitely not standard-issue enchanted parchment," I muttered grimly. "I should probably charge hazard pay for this."
Additional magical detection charms produced similarly unsettling results—nothing concrete, yet deeply ominous. Each attempt was met with the faint sound of distant laughter, whispers just beyond comprehension.
I sat back, feeling slightly unnerved. "Alright, Voldy Junior. Clearly, ordinary methods won't suffice. Let's up the stakes."
—
"Sky Kingston!" Hermione's voice cut sharply through the Gryffindor common room the next morning, her tone immediately alerting me to my apparent wrongdoing. "Explain. Now."
I winced internally. When a girl used your full name, especially Hermione Granger, it typically meant you had definitely done something wrong—and probably something extraordinarily foolish.
"Good morning to you too, Hermione," I replied cheerfully, putting down my quill and turning to face her.
She brandished my hastily scribbled notes from yesterday's experiment. "Whomping Willow durability testing? Diary disintegration methods? Have you completely lost it?"
"Debatable," I said lightly. "Sanity is often overrated and historically unhelpful for genuine breakthroughs. Anyway, where exactly did you find those notes?"
Hermione blushed slightly, looking away for a brief moment. "In your trunk. I've been using it as my own personal library—it's quieter than the real one, and no one bothers me during study time."
She narrowed her eyes dangerously. "This diary—it's clearly dangerous. Why haven't you involved Dumbledore or another professor?"
"Because they'll either confiscate it, destroy it, or worse, bury it next to the Mirror of Erised," I explained reasonably. "Besides, I'm being careful. Sort of."
Hermione crossed her arms sternly. "You're risking your safety again."
"Calculated risk," I protested. "Mostly calculated."
She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Fine, but promise me you'll use safer methods. No more tree-based tests."
"Fire, then?" I suggested brightly.
"Sky!"
"Controlled fire," I amended hastily. "I promise."
—
Later that evening, Hermione insisted on accompanying me into my lab, despite my grumbling protests.
"Honestly, Hermione, it's just fire," I muttered petulantly, adjusting the protective enchantments around the containment circle. "I'm a big boy now. I can handle this."
"Sky, every time you say that, you nearly blow yourself up," Hermione countered firmly, carefully double-checking my safety wards. "Besides, two heads are better than one, especially when one of those heads tends to prioritize spectacle over safety."
I grumbled under my breath. "This is not fair. I swear you're treating me like a child."
"Only when you act like one," Hermione said, offering a small smile to soften the rebuke.
I sighed dramatically, accepting defeat. "Fine, but next time I get to pick the experiment."
She chuckled softly. "You did pick this one. Now lets get started."
I carefully placed the diary in the containment circle, setting a harmless parchment aflame first to ensure everything worked correctly. It burned beautifully, ashes safely contained.
Taking a deep breath, I focused intently on the diary. "Alright, Mr. Diary, you've resisted Water-logging, angry trees and standard magical methods. Let's see if fire can encourage cooperation."
With one final glance around the room, ensuring every precaution was meticulously accounted for, I raised my wand.
"Incendio," I whispered firmly.
Flames burst forth, crackling hungrily as they surged toward the diary.
"Your move," I said quietly, watching intently as the flames danced and twisted, In hopes of revealing the dark magic within.