"Tom Riddle, You-Know-Who, open your eyes. It's me, Jerry Green!"
After classes that afternoon, Jerry went back to his dormitory alone instead of heading to the Hogwarts Great Hall. He opened Riddle's Diary.
As Jerry lifted his Quill from the blank page, the words he had just written disappeared.
Strangely, Voldemort gave him no reply.
"Tom Marvolo Riddle?"
Jerry waited a minute, then wrote another line in the diary. Still no reply.
"Has it broken down with age? Or did Ginny wear it out?" Jerry muttered.
"Voldemort?"
"Dark Lord?"
"Orphan?"
"007!" (No nose, no hair, seven Horcruxes.)
Jerry wrote several more lines, some pleasant, some insulting. Every one of them vanished without a trace, just like the first.
More than ten minutes passed, and Jerry's patience quietly drained away. He slammed his palm onto the diary. Dark red electricity flashed at his fingertips, crackling sharply.
"Thunderstorm!"
The diary held firm against the powerful surge for a moment. Then a tremendous force erupted from it, pushing Jerry's hand away. It snapped itself shut and shook violently on the desk.
The whole desktop shook with it.
"Thought I couldn't deal with you, did you?"
Before long, the diary stopped shaking. Then, with a bang that broke the silence, its pages flipped open on their own and slapped hard against the desk.
"Life... Soul Potion! Pour..."
Jerry looked at the words appearing in the diary and gave a wry smile. Its brains might be scrambled, but its memory was still good!
"Tell me about the attack!"
"Life... Soul Potion!"
"Don't worry. Once you tell me, I'll give you the potion! I swear! (On Snape's shampoo!)"
"Life-Soul... Potion!"
Jerry sighed at Voldemort's endless repetition. Couldn't there be a little trust between people? What had the world come to?
With no other choice, Jerry