After putting his personal belongings in order, Iain knew he would be staying here for a little while, so he began wandering around to get familiar with his new surroundings.
This house was not large, but it also had a third floor. There were two rooms up there as well, both unlocked. Through the crack of one door he could see that the whole place was piled high with stuff.
"Definitely a slob's room. Probably roasting a whole lamb in there too."
One glance was enough for him to lose interest. He turned and pushed open the other door instead.
This one was not messy, but it was dusty. Several tall bookcases stood against the walls, nearly reaching the ceiling, each shelf crammed full of books. Some titles on the spines were still perfectly legible; others had faded to the point of near invisibility. The air smelled of old paper and dust.
"Magic books!"
Ten Thousand Potions and Their Preparations
Research into Blood Curses and Hexes
The Unforgivable Curses: Theory and Criticism
Advanced Dark Magic Exposed
...
The bookshelves held a bit of everything.
Especially that copy of Advanced Dark Magic Exposed. Even with Iain's limited knowledge of the wizarding world, he knew that was the sort of book people did not leave lying around casually.
"Tsk, tsk. Old Dumbledore's a sly one. Using this to test my character, is he?"
Iain shook his head, wearing an expression that clearly said I've seen through the whole scheme.
Fawkes had drifted in after him and was now perched on the hanging lamp, head tilted, watching him with those dark eyes.
He looked exactly like a babysitter.
Handsome Tabby, meanwhile, had apparently been shut inside the hallway cupboard by some method known only to Fawkes. One paw was currently sticking out through the crack in the cupboard door, pawing uselessly at the air.
"Putting Dark Magic books somewhere this obvious is basically begging people to read them. I'm not falling for it."
Iain silently criticized Dumbledore's clumsy methods.
Fawkes let out a soft chirp and started preening the feathers beneath one wing, pretending not to hear a thing.
"That said, I can always study something else."
Iain moved his eyes away from the Dark Magic section and began scanning the rest of the shelves at random.
Most of the books looked perfectly respectable. Transfiguration. Charms. Herbology. Astronomy. There were also a number of works on magical history.
The authors' names meant nothing to him at all. He truly had no interest in Dark Magic, but he had a great deal of interest in the sort of magic that would let him show off in front of future classmates.
Who wouldn't want to say, Watch closely. This next spell is going to look incredible, and then turn Hogwarts Castle into a towering war machine on the spot?
"Transfiguration. Definitely got to learn Transfiguration."
Just as Iain was about to dedicate his first real effort to the subject, his gaze was suddenly caught by something else on the shelf.
Or rather, it was not exactly a book.
It was a diary.
No title. No name. It was wedged between two imposing volumes, showing only a narrow strip of dark brown leather spine.
The leather was plain. No lettering. No symbol. Nothing at all.
And because of that simplicity, it stood out all the more sharply among the rest of the books.
"Dumbledore's diary!"
Iain's curiosity surged again.
What kind of normal person kept a diary? Diaries existed to be snooped through by other people.
"In the name of all Hogwarts students, I shall now uncover Professor Dumbledore's embarrassingly dramatic youth!"
Without hesitation, Iain pulled the diary free.
He opened the cover.
The first page was blank.
He turned another page.
Still blank.
Another.
Blank again.
The entire diary was empty, every page clean and bare, not a single word on any of them.
"This lazy? No, wait... don't tell me this is Tom's diary!"
At first Iain was merely puzzled, but then he remembered catching Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets on television before crossing over.
And in the next instant,
something moved across the empty page.
Not the paper shifting.
Not some trick of the light.
Ink appeared from nowhere, as though an invisible pen were writing directly on the page.
The letters formed one stroke at a time until a line of text stood clearly before him.
"And you're still claiming you're not Tom's diary!"
This scene, Iain knew well. He might not have known before that he was in the Harry Potter world, but that did not mean he had failed to revisit the story in memory from time to time.
Without hesitation, he hurled the diary onto the table and spun around, preparing to grab a phoenix tear from Fawkes to purify himself.
Unfortunately, he was nowhere near quick enough to catch a phoenix.
Fawkes remained perfectly calm, as though he had known all along that the thing could write.
More words began to appear.
Don't be afraid. I am only a memory that has been preserved. What is your name?
The diary seemed able to sense what was happening around it without anyone needing to write in it at all.
Then another line appeared, carrying a faint note of resignation.
Though Albus's magical talent was passable enough, he never possessed the kind of dazzling brilliance you and I share.
More words emerged.
This diary was even more arrogant than Tom Riddle's had ever been. One glance was enough to tell that whoever had created it had been an outrageous braggart. You would think she was the Dark Lord.
"A pathetic little Horcrux thinks it can tempt Lord Iain?"
Iain gave a scornful snort. Knowing only a handful of spells, he nonetheless showed absolutely no fear before the obstructive diary as he began unfastening his belt.
"If you don't move aside, I really will hose you down."
The young wizard was prepared to employ the oldest exorcism method known to man.
The holy weapon of childhood.
In the magical world, anything was possible.
Whether it worked or not, the only way to know was to try.