Chapter 115: Tom and Jerry (Patreon)

Daphne stared at Wade suspiciously for several seconds before letting out a soft snort and putting away the Hover Cloak.

"Fine. I'll pretend to believe you this time."

"What do you mean, 'pretend'?"

"Because most of the time you've spent in that room has been writing notes." Daphne pointed toward the row of notebooks on the bookshelf. "It feels like you only made my sister's cloak as an afterthought."

"You need design drafts before upgrading a Hover Cloak." Wade replied without the slightest hint of embarrassment. "A good portion of those notebooks is dedicated to designing its new functions. I've put a lot of effort into it."

"Then you should've told me sooner."

"I'll remember that next time."

After returning to his dormitory, Wade casually settled onto the sofa and picked up his quill.

"Tom, do you have any other ideas regarding humanoid alchemical puppets?"

"No, Jerry."

"I've already taught you everything I know about alchemy."

Riddle's response carried a trace of helplessness.

He had originally believed that controlling Jerry would simply be more troublesome than controlling Ginny Weasley. By his calculations, earning Jerry's trust, fostering dependence, and eventually taking control of his mind should have taken no more than three months.

Reality, however, had proven very different.

He hadn't even completed the first step.

To earn Jerry's trust, he'd paid an enormous price. He had shared everything he could—alchemy, Dark Magic, anything that wouldn't immediately expose him.

Yet Jerry never lowered his guard.

It was as though all he wanted was knowledge.

How can this be acceptable, Tom? Pull yourself together!

"Jerry, the knowledge I've already given you is more than sufficient for designing ordinary puppets. But what you're trying to create is a duplicate capable of replacing yourself for extended periods of time. That's practically equivalent to creating life... and the current me simply can't accomplish that."

"The current you?" Wade wrote, the corner of his mouth curling upward.

"Fifty years have passed. It's only natural that parts of my memory have faded."

"Then how do you recover those missing memories?"

"Fresh blood infused with magic."

Crooked words slowly appeared across the diary's pages.

Even Riddle felt nervous.

He knew exactly how cautious Jerry was. Asking directly for blood was a desperate gamble.

For months, he'd given and given, receiving nothing in return. His patience was nearly exhausted.

Now he could only bet that Jerry wouldn't abandon the method for creating a puppet double.

If Jerry obtained blood for him, all the better.

As long as he recovered even a fraction of his strength, he was confident he could seize control of Jerry in a short time.

Even if he couldn't accomplish much, at least he'd escape Jerry's control.

After that, finding another target would be easy.

Anyone else—even someone as cunning as a fox—would be easier to manipulate.

He'd simply repeat the same process he'd used on Ginny.

There were hundreds of students at Hogwarts.

Surely they couldn't all be like Jerry—a complete miser who accepted everything while giving nothing in return.

Even if Jerry failed to acquire blood, it wasn't a total loss.

As long as he remained useful, Jerry wouldn't hand him over to Dumbledore.

"My brilliant brain tells me that giving you blood would lead to something very bad."

"After everything I've done for you, you still refuse to trust me?"

"Oh, I do trust you."

"It's just... I don't dare take unnecessary risks."

"How about this? At dinner, I'll give you the blood in the Great Hall. With Dumbledore and all the professors nearby, I'd feel much safer."

Then, almost immediately, Wade added a smiling face to the diary.

"Haha, just kidding. Don't take it seriously."

"Is there any method besides blood?"

"Unfortunately, no."

"That's alright. You can keep thinking."

Riddle nearly exploded with frustration.

His gamble had failed completely.

Jerry clearly wasn't willing to give up on the puppet research.

Instead, he'd chosen to continue dragging things out.

"Just a tiny amount of blood would be enough," Riddle insisted.

"Sorry. That's impossible."

"Why, Jerry?"

"It doesn't have to come from a wizard. The blood of an ordinary magical creature would do."

Riddle lowered his demands yet again.

No wizard's blood.

No powerful magical beast.

Surely that was reasonable.

"The issue isn't whose blood it is."

"The problem is..."

"I faint at the sight of blood."

Riddle became convinced Jerry was deliberately toying with him.

He simply couldn't prove it.

"Since you can't help me any further with alchemy, let's change the subject."

"Potions. You researched the Elixir of Life as well."

Still trying to squeeze more knowledge out of me? Dream on.

"I'm afraid I'll disappoint you, Jerry."

"My strength has been fading throughout this time. My memories related to potions have already become blurry."

Looks like there's nothing left to extract.

Wade thought to himself.

Then it's about time I hand this diary over to Harry Potter.

I can't keep wasting all my time in the library.

"Very well. I'll ask you a few questions."

"If you answer them, I'll take the risk of getting you some blood. The Hogwarts house-elves would probably be happy to help."

"What questions?" Riddle asked eagerly.

"How do you destroy a Horcrux?"

The moment those words were absorbed into the diary, Wade completely dropped all pretense.

Silence.

No response came for a long while.

Yet Wade could clearly sense Riddle's overwhelming shock.

"How do you know?"

"When did you find out?"

The words that finally appeared were twisted and distorted, perfectly reflecting Riddle's terror and fury.

If Jerry had known the diary was a Horcrux from the very beginning...

Then everything Riddle had sacrificed over the past several months—every precious piece of knowledge he'd offered in exchange for trust—had all been completely meaningless.

This was humiliation beyond words.

He was Lord Voldemort.

When had he ever suffered such indignity?

"Gryffindor's curiosity, Slytherin's ambition, and Hufflepuff's kindness can all be exploited by you."

"Unfortunately, I'm a Ravenclaw."

"The great Rowena Ravenclaw blessed me with keen insight and a sharp mind. From the very first conversation we had, I knew you were up to no good."

"So I specifically consulted our Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, Gilderoy Lockhart."

"He may seem like a narcissistic fool, but only I know he's actually hiding incredible depths. Sure enough, he quickly identified you as a Horcrux."

Wade wrote the blatant lie with a perfectly straight face.

He still intended to hand the diary over to Harry Potter.

Before that happened, he needed to throw every possible suspicion onto someone else and leave a few carefully prepared traps behind.

"Of course, he doesn't know you personally."

"He only warned me to be extremely careful around such evil creations. If I ever found one, I should report it to him immediately so he could destroy it himself."

"Gilderoy... Lockhart..."

The words that appeared on the page radiated hatred and unwillingness.

"Then why didn't you follow his advice?"

"Because I'm a Ravenclaw."

"Ravenclaws are wise, knowledgeable, endlessly curious, unconventional, and far-sighted."

One adjective after another firmly reinforced Jerry's fabricated Ravenclaw identity.

"I'm a greedy seeker of knowledge."

"And you possess knowledge that even Hogwarts' library doesn't contain."

"Now..."

"Will you answer my question?"

"Do you honestly think that's possible?"

"If you tell me how to destroy a Horcrux, I'll be the one to do it."

"You can at least choose a dignified end."

"But if Professor Lockhart destroys you..."

"He may not grant you that courtesy."

"Keep dreaming."

"I'd rather die at the hands of a truly powerful wizard than leave my fate to a despicable coward."

"Then you've made the wrong choice."

Wade wrote with apparent regret.

"Tomorrow, I'll hand you over to Professor Lockhart."

"I curse you, Jerry Thomasi."

The words refused to fade.

Even without magical sight, Wade could almost feel the hatred and resentment overflowing from the page.

Curse me all you want.

I couldn't care less.

And if you actually manage to find a Ravenclaw student named Jerry Thomasi...

I'll admit defeat.