Chapter 116: Delivering the Diary (Patreon)

Snap!

Wade closed the diary and let out a long breath.

The past few months had been highly rewarding.

Not only had the progress of his puppet-double research surpassed thirty percent, but he had also compiled an entire notebook of Dark Magic from everything he'd extracted.

Tom Riddle undoubtedly still had plenty of secrets left untold, but Wade had already gained enough.

Among the knowledge he'd acquired was a spell capable of destroying a Horcrux.

Fiendfyre.

Don't ask how he figured it out.

That would be a problem for the next owner to deal with.

More pleasantly surprising, however, was the increase in the acting progress of Sequence 6: Faceless.

Just moments ago, when Tom Riddle had uttered his final curse upon Jerry Thomasi, the progress bar on the Blasphemy Card had surged dramatically, jumping from just over ten percent to thirty-five percent.

Thinking it over, the reason wasn't difficult to understand.

The Faceless had two primary acting principles.

One was to become anyone while remaining oneself.

The other was to deceive everyone through a deep, convincing disguise—truly becoming another person and receiving genuine feedback in return.

Although Jerry Thomasi was nothing more than an identity Wade had fabricated, he had used that persona exclusively during the past three months while dealing with Tom Riddle, reaping tremendous benefits in the process.

Even until the very end, Riddle had never once doubted Jerry Thomasi's existence.

"Fortunately, a Horcrux can't actually see anything and can only communicate through writing. Otherwise, fooling the young Voldemort would've been far more difficult."

Wade chuckled shamelessly.

Today would be the last day Jerry Thomasi ever existed.

He would never use that identity again.

Even so, tricking someone who was essentially blind still left him feeling just a tiny bit guilty.

Next came the final step—

Getting this diary into Harry Potter's hands.

Handing it over directly was out of the question.

He needed a more natural method.

The following day, after classes ended, Wade headed straight for the library.

Walking between rows of bookshelves, he occasionally tossed a bronze coin to perform a brief divination.

Eventually, he selected a table beside one of the windows.

After confirming no one was paying attention, he casually slid Tom Riddle's diary beneath the table.

Then he moved behind a nearby bookshelf with a clear view of the spot, pulled out a random book, and quietly waited.

Nearly half an hour later, Harry, Hermione, and Ron arrived carrying several books.

"Today we're checking magical reptiles," Hermione said.

"Hopefully we'll finally find something."

"Hermione, can't we take a break?" Ron complained as he dropped his books onto the table.

"I wasn't even this hardworking when we were searching for the Philosopher's Stone."

"That's because we already knew the Philosopher's Stone was hidden on the fourth floor, and You-Know-Who..."

"Shh!"

Ron hurriedly interrupted her.

"Don't suddenly say his name!"

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"He only wanted to steal the Philosopher's Stone. He wasn't trying to attack students directly."

"But Slytherin's Heir is different."

"We know nothing about them, and they've already attacked several people. Who's to say there won't be another victim?"

"Fine..."

Harry patted Ron on the shoulder before taking a seat.

The next instant, his foot bumped into something.

Curious, he bent down and picked it up.

It was Tom Riddle's diary.

"What's that?" Ron asked.

"Looks like... a diary."

Harry examined the date embossed on the cover, excitement flickering across his face.

Fifty years ago...

Exactly when the Chamber of Secrets had last been opened.

Maybe this diary contained the clue they had been searching for.

He eagerly flipped it open.

The first page contained only a faded name.

T. M. Riddle.

Every other page was completely blank.

"There's only a name."

"He didn't write anything."

"Riddle..."

Ron frowned thoughtfully.

"I think I've heard that name before."

"Fifty years ago, someone named Riddle received the Special Award for Services to the School."

Hermione looked at him in surprise.

"How do you know that?"

Ron looked offended.

"It's true!"

"When Filch gave me detention, he made me polish all the trophies in the trophy room."

"If you scrub the same plaque dozens of times, you're bound to remember the name engraved on it."

"But if this diary belongs to someone from fifty years ago..."

Hermione frowned.

"Who left it here?"

"Maybe Slytherin's Heir," Ron guessed.

"They thought the diary contained some kind of clue, but after checking it, they realized it was empty and threw it away."

"It really is blank," Harry said disappointedly.

"Maybe it's written with invisible ink."

Hermione drew her wand.

"Reveal Your Secret!"

Nothing happened.

"Guess not," Ron shrugged.

Hermione wasn't convinced.

She dug through her schoolbag, took out a bright red Revealing Eraser, and began rubbing the pages vigorously.

"Hermione..."

Ron sighed.

"I think you're wasting your ti—"

He froze mid-sentence.

Words slowly emerged on the previously blank page.

Hello. I am Tom Riddle. Who are you?

Looks like fate hasn't abandoned me after all.

Riddle couldn't help feeling relieved.

He had assumed today would be his last—that Gilderoy Lockhart would destroy him.

Instead, the diary had ended up in someone else's hands.

He knew this because he could still sense magic.

And Gilderoy Lockhart certainly wouldn't use a revealing charm before destroying a Horcrux.

Even better, less than a day had passed.

He had recovered enough magical energy to write a few sentences.

"No way..."

Ron stared wide-eyed.

"It actually worked?"

"Maybe... maybe we can talk to it."

Harry immediately took out his quill and wrote:

My name is Harry Potter.

The response appeared almost instantly.

Hello, Harry Potter. How did you find my diary?

I found it in the library. Someone left it here.

Fortunately, I recorded my memories using something more enduring than ink. There are people who don't want this diary to be read.

Riddle smiled inwardly.

The person on the other end wasn't Jerry Thomasi.

This time, he was confident he could earn their trust.

"Ask him what he means," Hermione urged.

Harry quickly wrote another question.

Moments later, several new lines appeared.

This diary records events that took place at Hogwarts. Forgotten events. Hidden events.

The person who found me wanted to keep those secrets buried. They planned to hand me over to Professor Gilderoy Lockhart, the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, so he could destroy me.

Don't underestimate Professor Lockhart. His magical knowledge and ability are second only to Dumbledore's at Hogwarts.

"Lockhart?"

Ron looked doubtful.

"Is he really that capable?"

"How do you know he isn't?" Hermione shot back.

"Maybe Professor Lockhart simply isn't very good at teaching."

"A fully qualified adult wizard couldn't possibly earn so many honors without genuine ability."

Ron fell silent.

She had a point.

Even so...

He still couldn't quite believe it.

"Wait..."

"Could the person who found you be Slytherin's Heir?"

"Very likely," Harry said excitedly.

He hurriedly wrote another question.

Who was that person?

I don't know. They never told me their name.

"Harry, ask if he knows anything about the Chamber of Secrets," Ron said.

Harry quickly complied.

Riddle's answer left all three of them stunned.

I can show you.

Let me take you back fifty years. You can witness it yourself.

The trio exchanged bewildered glances.

Before any of them could react, the diary's pages began flipping rapidly until they stopped at June 13th, fifty years earlier.

A brilliant light erupted from the page.

The next instant, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were all pulled into the diary.

Damn it!

Watching from behind the bookshelf, Wade cursed under his breath and immediately hurried over.

He only intended to give Harry Potter a little push in the right direction.

He certainly hadn't expected something like this.

However, the moment he saw the date displayed on the open page, realization dawned on him.

Without hesitation, he turned around and walked away as though nothing had happened.

The truth from fifty years ago?

What Tom Riddle was showing them wasn't the truth.

It was merely a carefully selected version of the facts.