The Harry Potter DDLJ II

(You can find the first part here.)

Simran regained the control of her hands and some moments later her faculties. The diary lay innocuously on her bed. The diary’s magic, Mr. Borgin has said, was to change hues according to the tenor of what was being written. The diary also had flesh memory and wouldn’t open for anyone except the person, who first touched it. 

“It is to be more loyal than a house elf Ms. Singh. All your tirades of feminine fervour shall be most secure, be assured.” Mr. Borgin had said flashing his sycophantic smile. To which Mrs. Singh promptly replied that her daughters were too well brought up to experience violent fervours. “They have a quiet disposition, Burke. You ought to know that.” 

“And no imagination, like a proper lady” added Simran, derisively, in her mind. 

Simran did not attempt to write anymore that night. This could be part of the diary’s magic; a harmlessly conceived joke, designed to spew insults at whoever owned it. But then Borgin and Burke also dealt in dark magic artefacts and they have been known, to make mistakes in analysing the magic contained in their relics, before. 

She was still thinking about the diary, when she finally fell asleep and had a most unusual dream of following the diary’s instruction, in dressing up for a ball. 

Simran had, for obvious reasons, decided not to mention any of it to her parents. The diary would be out of the house before she could say Zonko. They woke up the next day to the arrival of the Hogwarts mail for Rajeshwari. She was to start her fourth year at Hogwarts. Mr. Singh glared at the owl, begrudging it its postman status, holding it personally accountable, for the position not being given to the more deserving pigeons. 

Simran, who was consumed with thoughts of the diary, saw here an opportunity to make further inquiries about it.  She broached the subject cautiously.

“Mum can we go to Diagon Alley, to buy Chutki’s books this year, instead of writing to Flourish and Blotts?” She said meekly.

“But dear, we were there only yesterday”

 Rajeshwari who was always eager to go to Diagon Alley chimed in “This is an important year for me. We take the OWLs next year. I could do with having a few extra books, recommended by the excellent manager. He might miss something if we just write to them.”

“And I could take a look at the robes at Madam Malkin's. I should keep abreast with the latest trends; I am to get married before the year ends, after all.” Added Simran. 

Mrs. Singh yielded at the mention of marriage. Her daughter was to have the very best for her wedding. Because Rajeshwari was accompanying them they could not disapparate and had to use the Floo Network. They exited at the Leaky Cauldron grate and were just entering Diagon Alley, when someone called out to Rajeshwari. They turned around; it was a boy, accompanied by an older family member, a muggle, obvious from his attire. 

 “Hey! Wait up Singh” 

The temperature seemed to have dropped a few notches around them. “Aah Muggle borns,” murmured Mrs. Singh. 

Simran saw her excuse to get away and agreeing to meet them outside Flourish and Blotts, made her way towards Madam Malkins. She did a quick stop at Madam Malkins and then sort of wandered aimlessly, like the answer to her diary conundrum would be on display at one of the shop windows. She was clueless about where to begin and to compound the problem most items on sale at Borgin and Burkes, were one of kind; products of maverick minds and therefore, couldn’t be researched in standard issue books. 

She suddenly grew conscious of her surrounding, as if stepping out of a trance. She was standing outside Ollivanders. If you give it autonomy, life will often lead you, to where you ought to be. Though strange of manner, Simran knew that Mr. Ollivander would be able to answer her queries, well versed in ancient magic as he was. She stepped in. 

“Yew, eight and a quarter inches, supple, unicorn hair” said a shrill voice. 

(To be continued)