Harry was stunned by Hermione's severity. He looked at Ron's puzzled expression, then at the dark green writing in the diary—seemingly gentle and harmless, yet every word pierced his heart. A profound sense of helplessness, along with an even deeper chill, swallowed him whole.
His hands trembling, Harry abruptly snapped the diary shut with a sharp slap under Hermione's urgent gaze.
The instant the diary closed, Harry seemed to hear an exceedingly faint sigh, full of regret and malice, echo directly within the depths of his soul. The book felt cold and heavy in his hands, like a gravestone soaked full of blood.
Hermione's voice was taut as a bowstring. "Ron, are you sure that book was called Soul Shackles?"
"Soul Shackles." Ron repeated it, keeping his voice low. "Fred said it was on the innermost shelf in the Restricted Section. There was a lock symbol on the spine, and you needed a professor's signature to borrow it."
Hermione's fingers tapped rapidly against the table twice. "All right. Find a way to get it." She turned to Harry, her gaze settling on his face. It was pale as paper, and the dark circles beneath his eyes looked even deeper in the candlelight. He did not look at Hermione. He stared at the closed diary on the table.
"Harry." Hermione lowered her voice. "You ran into Draco in the corridor today. Don't take what he said to heart. He was just trying to provoke you. The angrier you get, the happier he is."
"I know." Harry's lips moved. "He said Hagrid was a monster. He said Hagrid deserved to be locked up. I—" He could not continue. His fingers clenched over his knees, his knuckles turning white.
Hermione looked at him and did not mention Hagrid again. "Is there something else