Fred looked at Ron's seemingly practiced calm and asked with a grin, "Has our little Ron finally caught on? Now tell your big brother—which numbers did you just set as the password?"
Ron froze. He scratched his head and thought for a long time before finally squeezing out, "I forgot."
He glanced down at the dial, then quickly looked away. "I forget it as soon as I look at it. Who could remember that? But that's fine too. Saves anyone from prying it out of me."
Only after casting several alarm and defensive charms on the bookcase did Fred push Harry toward the dormitory door. "Come on, Harry. Let's go out first and hear what Hermione has planned."
After leaving the dormitory, Hermione looked at Harry's pale, lost face and softly comforted him. "Harry, you're safe for now. But remember what I said: until we figure out what that diary really is, absolutely—absolutely do not try to open it again. And don't use your blood again! That thing is luring you in! Do you hear me?"
Harry said nothing. He stood by the door, looking at the lock behind him, watching the bookcase doors remain shut, watching the Black Diary vanish into the dim, dust-covered corner at the very bottom of the bookcase. Something had been pulled from his chest. It was not pain, nor emptiness, but the bewilderment of having lost his sense of direction.
Hermione glanced at Ron. "Ron, we need to find that copy of Soul Shackles as soon as possible! We're leaving now! I'll find a way to get Professor Lockhart to write me a pass for the Restricted Section. You, George, and the others wait for me in the library. While you're there, see if there are any other books about souls or magical objects.