“Hang on,” said Ron, who had approached cautiously and was looking over Harry’s shoulder. “I know that name. … T. M. Rid­dle got an award for special services to the school fifty years ago.”
“How on earth d’you know that?” said Harry in amazement.
“Because Filch made me polish his shield about fifty times in de­tention,” said Ron resentfully. “That was the one I burped slugs all over. If you’d wiped slime off a name for an hour, you’d remember it, too.”
Harry peeled the wet pages apart. They were completely blank.

(via holyvirginmary)