A Sleepless Night

The handwriting came into view. The instant Harry understood the sentence, his eyes widened, then his pupils suddenly contracted. It was as if someone had gripped his heart; blood rushed to his brain, as though he had collided head-on with the Knight Bus. He was instantly wide awake.

Staring at the clear, familiar handwriting, a faint light flickered in Harry's eyes, and his breathing grew heavy.

The Half-Blood Prince's textbook was a Dark Arts object?

Could it really bring his mother back to life?

Or was it trying to beguile and control him?

He could not tell whether he felt wary or hopeful—perhaps both. The remnants of his rationality were sounding a warning. Harry knew he should immediately get away from this strange textbook, seal it away, and hand it over to Dumbledore.

But, but...

With indescribable apprehension, Harry set down Advanced Potion-Making. He gripped his wand tightly in his right hand and aimed it at the old textbook. Sectumsempra was the most effective spell he could think of.

The parchment pages were faintly yellowed. The battered old textbook lay quietly on the blanket without the slightest movement.

If not for that eerie line of writing, Harry would have thought this was some absurd, bizarre dream.

Harry tightened his grip on his wand and waited silently. He knew this strange textbook would not remain quiet forever.

Sure enough, the silent standoff did not last long. He felt a subtle Legilimency sweep quietly over him, vanishing in an instant. It made no sound, yet the intent carried an unmistakably familiar feeling, as though he had encountered it somewhere before.

Harry instinctively used Occlumency. Surging Magic Power gathered at the tip of his wand. Under his gaze, the ink of that sentence seeped into the paper and blurred into a blot. After