With Lockhart recovering in the infirmary — or more accurately, trying to sign autographs with boneless arms — Hogwarts had, for once, a week of peace.At least, until Professor Snape was assigned as the substitute Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.
The change was… dramatic.
No more glittering smiles.No more loud introductions.No more ridiculous "Lockhart fan club."
Just Snape's cold, measured voice filling the classroom like an icy fog.
"Today," Snape drawled, glaring at the students, "we will study real defensive magic — not celebrity posturing."
Most students sat petrified, afraid even to breathe.Except Roy, who calmly leaned back in his chair, watching the Potions Master with quiet amusement.
For the entire week, Snape's lessons were strict but effective. No one dared whisper. No one dared fail. Even Fred and George took notes — which, in itself, was a miracle worthy of the Prophet's front page.
But Roy's sharp eyes noticed something else entirely.
Ron Weasley, of all people, had been answering Snape's questions — correctly.
The same Ron who once asked if a bezoar was "a type of sandwich."
Roy's curiosity was piqued.
Later that evening, in the library, Roy sat beside Hermione, who was surrounded by books taller than her. He closed his own copy of Advanced Defensive Wards and spoke casually,
"Granger, either Weasley's been possessed by Rowena Ravenclaw herself, or there's something you haven't told me."
Hermione froze, the quill slipping slightly in her fingers."W-What do you mean?"
Roy smirked. "Don't 'what do you mean' me. I saw him answering Snape's questions like he suddenly evolved two brain cells. What's going on?"
Hermione sighed, defeated. "It's… the Polyjuice potion. Ron brewed it."
Roy blinked. "Ronald Weasley brewed a Polyjuice Potion? The same potion that requires lacewing flies stewed for twenty-one days, and a bit of your target's hair?"
Hermione nodded sheepishly.
Roy leaned back in shock, then chuckled under his breath. "Well, I'll be damned. Didn't think the boy had it in him."
But that revelation made something click in Roy's mind — like puzzle pieces sliding into place.
The odd behavior. The sudden intelligence. The subtle darkness he'd sensed around Ron lately.
The diary.
Roy's gaze darkened slightly.He remembered the Dueling Club two months ago — the cursed serpents, the chaos, the way Ron had looked when Harry spoke Parseltongue. He hadn't cared much then, but now the signs were obvious.
"The diary chose Ron," Roy murmured to himself. "Not Ginny."
He was relieved, though. Ginny had been spending more time around Hermione lately — and by extension, around him.
The first-year girl was bright, shy, and carried a warmth that reminded Roy of sunlight after rain.She'd often come to him with questions, and Roy, being himself, couldn't resist teasing her.
One afternoon, in the courtyard, Ginny approached him nervously, clutching her books.
"R-Roy, could you please help me with this Charms homework? I… I can't seem to get the spell right."
Roy smiled. "Of course, little Weasley. But what will I get in return?"
Ginny blinked, flustered. "R-Return?"
"Hmm," Roy said, pretending to think. "How about… a smile?"
Ginny blushed so fiercely she looked ready to faint, but smiled anyway — a bright, genuine smile that made Daphne whisper to Astoria, "He's going to make every girl in Hogwarts fall for him at this rate."
Still, while Roy enjoyed these small, peaceful moments, he could feel the tension brewing like storm clouds.
Letters flooded into Dumbledore's office daily — from parents, from the Ministry, from terrified students demanding answers.
Rumors ran rampant through the halls. Some said the Chamber of Secrets would claim another victim. Others claimed Dumbledore would be removed.
But Roy?Roy simply leaned back in his chair in the Hufflepuff common room, sipping tea and glancing out the frosted window.
"Same plot," he muttered with a faint smile. "Different players. Let's see what happens next."
He had no intention of interfering just yet — not unless someone he cared for was in danger.
For now, the Yaksha of Hogwarts watched the stage unfold — and the diary's shadow began to stir in silence.