Dumbledore’s face froze.
He asked, in a voice tinged with disbelief, “What did he say his name was?”
“Tom Marvolo Riddle!” Bruce repeated Voldemort’s name, his tone holding a hint of complaint.
“This soul is truly despicable. He’s constantly saying terrible things about Harry. You know, Headmaster, Harry has always been a close friend of mine.
“And not only that—he even tries to goad me into doing horrid things, things so dark I can barely say them out loud!”
By now, Dumbledore’s expression had shifted from serious to something closer to fury.
Bruce swore he was seeing, for the first time, a glimmer of true menace on the headmaster’s face.
“Of course… of course…” Dumbledore muttered. “Those are precisely the sorts of things he would say, the sorts of things he would do…”
He extended his hand, gesturing for Bruce to hand over the diary.
In his other hand, he was gripping his wand tightly, clearly prepared to give the piece of Voldemort’s soul a very special sort of ‘welcome back to school.’
But to Dumbledore’s surprise, Bruce didn’t immediately pass the diary to him.
“Professor, you know this name?” Bruce asked. “Was he once a student of yours?”
“In a manner of speaking, yes.” Dumbledore nodded. “Bruce, give it to me. The magic inside this diary is too dangerous for you to handle.”
Yet Bruce still held onto the diary.
This gave Dumbledore a slightly unsettling thought—could Bruce already be under the diary’s influence?
No, impossible!
If he were, he wouldn’t be telling him about the diary at all, nor would he be voicing these concerns.
“Bruce, do you have any misgivings?”
Dumbledore asked gently, “This diary is dangerous—it should be destroyed immediately!”
“I know,” Bruce nodded, looking troubled. “But that’s exactly why I don’t want to hand it over to you just yet.”
“Why, Bruce?” Dumbledore asked.
“Because I believe this diary might be the key to saving Lavender and Professor Snape!”
Bruce’s words were shocking.
Hearing this, Dumbledore grew quiet.
He knew Bruce was a smart child, and if he was saying this, he had to have a reason.
“Explain it to me, Bruce,” Dumbledore said, his tone open and encouraging. “Why do you think so?”
“Because this diary… it seems to read my every thought!” Bruce said. “It knows all my secrets, even the fact that I’m an orphan…”
At this, a trace of sadness flickered across Bruce’s face.
Underneath his robe, Dumbledore’s fists clenched.
His rage surged, yet he reined it in, refusing to let Bruce see.
Oh, Tom, you’re still the same—always preying on the vulnerabilities of others!
In pointing out that Bruce is an orphan, did you forget that you yourself were also an orphan?
Dumbledore swore that he’d love nothing more than to yank Voldemort’s soul right out of that diary and obliterate it with his strongest spells.
No Unforgivable Curses necessary.
Even without them, he could ensure there’d be no forgiveness for Voldemort.
“It’s alright, my boy,” Dumbledore said, offering comfort. “You and Voldemort are nothing alike. You possess a heart of pure gold.”
“Voldemort?” Bruce picked up on the name instantly. “Professor, why would you mention Voldemort? Could it be that this diary…”
Damn it.
Dumbledore realized he’d slipped.
The reason he’d referred to him as Voldemort rather than Tom was instinct—he’d thought if he only said ‘Tom,’ Bruce wouldn’t understand the gravity of the situation.
But Bruce was sharper than he’d anticipated.
“Sigh… you really are astute, Bruce,” Dumbledore admitted, sighing. “Very well, I’ll no longer hide it. Yes, Tom Riddle was indeed Voldemort’s original name.”
Bruce lowered his head, seemingly lost and unsure of what to do.
Or at least, that’s how it appeared to Dumbledore.
Only Kathoom, perched on the classroom windowsill, knew what was really going on. Bruce was facing one of the biggest challenges of his life.
The kid couldn’t act his way through this one.
The information Dumbledore had just revealed was so startling that Bruce was struggling to put on the appropriate reaction.
He couldn’t fake it.
Fortunately, while his acting might be lacking, he was quick-witted enough to simply keep his head down and let Dumbledore fill in the blanks himself.
“Perhaps a little training with Lockhart wouldn’t hurt…”
Kathoom thought to himself. “Some lessons from that ‘old master’ would do wonders for his acting skills.”
Back to the matter at hand.
Dumbledore gently patted Bruce’s shoulder, signaling that everything would be fine.
“Professor…”
Bruce looked up, his expression still resolute.
“I think that, even if this diary once belonged to Voldemort, we shouldn’t abandon this one hope!”
Hope?
Dumbledore gestured for Bruce to continue, showing he would respect his thoughts.
Encouraged, Bruce explained further.
“This diary can read my thoughts with unsettling precision!”
“That’s because of Legilimency,” Dumbledore clarified.
“And I can feel a kind of soul connection between us!”
“He’s trying to devour your soul,” Dumbledore added, making another mental note against Voldemort.
“That’s why I was thinking, what if we could link his soul to Professor Snape’s? Through the diary, we could communicate with the professor while he’s unconscious!”
“That…”
Dumbledore paused, considering Bruce’s suggestion carefully. He soon realized—
It could work!
The only real risk would be if Voldemort proved too unruly. But even that could be handled.
“Bruce, I owe you my thanks—your idea might just save two lives!”
Dumbledore said, “But we also can’t ignore the presence of Voldemort within the diary.”
There could be consequences.
“Professor, what will you do?” Bruce asked.
“Not to worry. Just hand the diary to me.”
Dumbledore smiled reassuringly. “I have ways of keeping him in line.”
Hearing this, Bruce reluctantly handed the diary over.
“You’re not planning to destroy it the moment I leave, are you?” Bruce asked as a final precaution.
“I give you my word,” Dumbledore promised.
Finally, Bruce left.
He had completed all his tasks, and now everything was in the headmaster’s capable hands.
Dumbledore watched Bruce go, then Apparated back to his office.
He sat at his desk and opened the diary, finding the pages blank, with no writing at all.
Picking up a quill, he let a drop of ink fall onto the page.
The ink quickly seeped into the paper, and a line of text emerged in response.
“Bruce, I’ve thought of a plan.”
Dumbledore looked at the words, his eyes glinting with a hidden smirk. He waited a moment before replying.
More lines appeared on the page—
“We don’t need to lift a finger to ruin Harry Potter’s reputation.
“Have you ever heard of the Chamber of Secrets? It’s a hidden chamber that only Slytherin’s heir can open.
“Salazar left a monster inside, and I happen to know how to control it.
“All we need to do is unleash it, kill a few students, and lay the blame squarely on Potter.
“Don’t worry. With me here, no one will ever find out!”
Dumbledore couldn’t take it anymore.
Suggesting murder, all to defame Harry?
Tom, you really haven’t changed since your school days, have you?
Thank Merlin Bruce has the sense to see through you, or he’d be falling right into your trap!
Dumbledore set his quill to the page and wrote—
“The basilisk is dead.”
“Dead? Impossible!”
Riddle’s shock was palpable. His writing appeared almost erratic.
But then he paused, sensing something was wrong.
“This isn’t Bruce’s handwriting! Who are you?”
Who indeed?
Dumbledore’s face remained impassive as he wrote, “Long time no see, Tom.”
“Wait—” Riddle seemed to realize something.
But it was too late.
—
“So you’re telling me Voldemort split his soul into seven pieces?”
Hearing Kathoom’s account, Bruce was taken aback.
This was the first time he’d learned of this dark secret.
He’d read in books about how excruciating it was to split one’s soul.
And Voldemort had undergone that agony six times.
“That guy Voldemort—he’s ruthless to others, but even more ruthless to himself.”
Bruce shook his head. “And out of all the pieces, I’d say the diary fragment got it the worst.”
It was hard not to feel a bit of pity. First, he ended up in Grindelwald’s hands and was left traumatized.
Now, he was at Dumbledore’s mercy.
Having both legendary wizards take turns handling him—Voldemort’s ‘luck’ really was something else.
“Lucky? Not even close. At least he’s still alive,”
Kathoom corrected him. “From what I know, three of Voldemort’s soul fragments have already been destroyed.”
Two of those were even obliterated right in front of him.
“Now we just wait for Dumbledore.”
The owl shifted topics, his eyes sparkling with anticipation. “Snape’s dreams are bound to be fascinating!”
“Why don’t you find something productive to do?”
Bruce had no desire to be involved in Kathoom’s antics any longer.
Just then, he heard someone calling his name in the distance.
Turning, he saw Neville running toward him, looking winded. He must have sprinted quite a distance.
“What’s wrong, Neville? Did something happen?”
Bruce asked, and Neville immediately grabbed his arm.
“Bruce, come quick!”
Neville said, clearly alarmed. “Hermione’s about to duel another girl!”
Bruce: ???
Hermione? Duel?
How did those two words even go together?
But Kathoom didn’t seem surprised. Hermione wasn’t exactly the delicate type—she had plenty of strength and nerve.
After all, the punch she’d landed on Malfoy in the movie was as fierce as any.
“Take it easy, Neville. Explain it clearly,”
Bruce said, letting Neville catch his breath. “Did Hermione challenge someone to a duel?”
Neville nodded rapidly. “Yes, I was right there!”
“Who’s she dueling with?” Bruce asked.
“It’s a student from Ravenclaw. Her name is…”
Neville thought hard for a moment before finally remembering, “Ravenna!”
Reader discussion
0 Comments
Be the first reader to share a thought about this chapter.