Riddle's polished golden medal was tucked away in a corner display cabinet.
Unfortunately, there wasn't any detailed description nearby, as Harry had hoped. It didn't even explain why the award had been given to Riddle. Still, they managed to spot his name on an old "Award for Special Services to the School" medal and a list of former Head Boys.
# Ron: "He's like a Percy clone."
Ron wrinkled his nose in distaste.
# Ron: "Prefect—Head Boy—probably top marks in every subject too."
# Hermione: "The way you say that, it's like it's a bad thing."
Hermione spoke in a slightly wounded tone.
They couldn't uncover any more clues in the Trophy Room.
Orli cautiously tried to lighten the mood with Harry:
## Orli: "Maybe it's just a regular old second-hand notebook, the kind you'd find in the clearance bin of a stationery shop. Maybe whoever sent it didn't bother to check the pages carefully; otherwise, that signed page would've been ripped out ages ago."
But Harry just picked up the notebook, lost in thought, showing no sign of tossing it aside.
Orli sighed and let the matter drop. It seemed he had already been subtly influenced. Thankfully, he hadn't yet thought about writing in it.
The entire month of January left Orli uneasy. She found herself drawn, deliberately or not, to a word puzzle tucked in the margins of the Daily Prophet. The game involved a set of random letters, and anyone who could use them to form a coherent sentence could win a Galleon.
The other three quickly joined in on the fun. Together, they spent their days shuffling letters around on scraps of parchment. Hermione, naturally, had a keen interest in anything involving word games, while Ron saw it as a chance to earn some extra pocket money. Harry, with little choice, joined them in spelling out different words each day.
Orli's real goal was to nudge the game toward names, hoping they'd stumble upon the revelation that "Tom Marvolo Riddle" could be rearranged to spell "I am Lord Voldemort."
However, when Ron accidentally solved one of the Daily Prophet puzzles and actually won a Galleon, he became completely obsessed. His enthusiasm for word puzzles knew no bounds.
During one Defense Against the Dark Arts class, Ron's parchment—covered in jumbled letters—caught Lockhart's attention. The blonde, self-absorbed professor, clearly mistaking it for some kind of encrypted love letter or diary, winked and gave the class a conspiratorial smile:
# Lockhart: "Trust me, I've been your age too, you know. Of course, I understand what's going on in those little heads of yours—ah, the unforgettable memories of youth. That special day is just around the corner, isn't it? You must be excited. Look at Norbert Weasley here; his love letter is practically a novel, and he's even added a touch of encryption. But that's no challenge for me. In Travels with Trolls, I cracked far tougher runic codes than this. But don't worry, I won't translate this letter—it's our young man's private thoughts, after all. He'd be mortified."
Lockhart launched into one of his trademark monologues, even managing to get Ron's name wrong.
# Lockhart: "Fear not, young ones. Come February 14th, I've got some spectacular surprises lined up for you. You're going to love them. Oh, I'm not some old stick-in-the-mud—quite the opposite! I'm as young at heart as any of you."
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