Chapter 120: Diary
Malfoy’s face turned crimson with fury, yet he had no words to defend himself. His past actions were undeniable—no one would believe he hadn’t meant to do it.
“Filthy commoners—only capable of such cheap tricks!” Malfoy sneered, waving his son over. The two vanished quickly, leaving behind only the echo of disdain.
“You shouldn’t have bothered with him, Arthur,” Hagrid said, helping Mr. Weasley smooth out his robes. “That boy’s rotten to the core…”
Ginny Weasley, still sprawled on the ground after her fall, hadn’t even bothered to pick up the scattered books—among them, a set of Gilderoy Lockhart’s books that Harry had gifted her. Expensive beyond measure, they were so costly that even emptying the Weasley family treasure vault wouldn’t have covered a single copy.
The Weasley twins and Harry rushed to help gather the books, quickly restoring order. Then, a stranger’s hand offered her an old textbook.
“Is this the last one?” the voice asked.
“Should be… thank you,” Ginny said, accepting it numbly, her heart heavy with the shame of having to use such outdated material.
She suddenly realized the voice sounded unfamiliar. Looking up, she saw a boy she didn’t recognize.
“Who are you…?”
“Wade?” Harry exclaimed. “You came to buy books too?”
“Yeah,” Wade replied casually. “Heard today was Lockhart’s new book launch. I’m curious about this so-called adventurer.”
“An adventurer?” Ron scoffed. “He’s just a flashy peacock who talks a big game.”
“Don’t be so harsh!” Hermione snapped instantly. “Have you even read his books? Gilderoy Lockhart has ventured into remote, uninhabited places—faced the most dangerous creatures known to wizardkind!”
Ron’s jaw dropped, staring at Hermione in stunned disbelief. Her fierce defense was so eerily like her mother’s that it felt like watching a dragon suddenly break into song.
“Snap out of it, Hermione! That guy’s a fraud—anyone with half a brain can tell! He’s just a pretty face with no real magic behind it!”
His words drew furious glares from the crowd of Lockhart fans. If Ron hadn’t been a child, he’d have been beaten to a pulp.
Hermione flared up. “You don’t get to insult him! Gilderoy Lockhart is a brave man! He’s defeated werewolves on his own!”
The mention of werewolves made Harry flinch slightly. He quickly interrupted. “Alright, enough. Let’s stop arguing. Wade, did you get everything you needed?”
“Yep,” Wade said, waving. “I’m heading back now. See you at school.”
…
Steven Mor dropped Wade off at home before departing. As Wade opened the front door, he found the house empty—no one there.
He wasn’t surprised. He knew the Gray family had organized an urgent overtime shift at the company to meet a critical order. No one was home, and that was perfectly normal.
Once in his bedroom, Wade pulled out his Pen Box and tapped it gently with his wand.
This level of magic wouldn’t trigger the Ministry of Magic’s Trace.
The box unfolded layer by layer, transforming into the shape of a suitcase. He opened it. At the bottom were several smaller boxes, only one of which contained anything.
He lifted a flat case and removed a black notebook.
It was an old diary. The date on the faded cover was fifty years old.
Flipping to the first page, a blurred name appeared: Tom Marvolo Riddle.
A matching name shimmered into view above the diary in Wade’s eyes.
He dipped his pen and wrote:
【In the progress of the world, it is not our talents that matter, but how we choose to use them.】
The words flickered on the page—then vanished, absorbed into the paper.
A new message appeared:
【It’s been so long since I met someone who thinks like me. I suspect you’re a gifted young wizard.】
The text teleported, then disappeared. Another line appeared:
【People like us are rarely understood. I was lonely once—do you feel the same?】
—Sorry, I’m not in the mood for a heart-to-heart.
Wade didn’t hesitate. He shoved the diary back into the box.
Closing the lid, a chain of magical script began to coil around it—spiraling like vines, forming intricate patterns before locking into place.
He placed the diary as far as possible from the Crown.
Even though both Horcruxes were sealed within the magically shielded box, Wade still felt an urgent pressure.
—Need to deal with these Horcruxes soon… At least one of them.
Otherwise, they might influence each other, triggering magical resonance… or worse, breaking free from their seals.
…
At six o’clock, the Gray parents finally returned, carrying two takeout boxes of pizza from a nearby restaurant.
“Urgent orders are a nightmare,” Ferdinand sighed, loosening his house tie. “If it weren’t for an old client, I wouldn’t have agreed to pay overtime.”
“Long day?” Wade asked, helping his mother hang her coat.
“Just about,” Ferdinand said, placing his briefcase on the table. “Here’s what you wanted… Wade. Use it wisely. Don’t bring danger upon yourself.”
“I understand, Dad,” Wade said.
“What is it?” Fiona asked, curiosity lighting her eyes. “I’ve been asking you all day, but you wouldn’t tell me.”
Wade smiled. “It’s just some magical materials the school requires—Fly Eyes, Toad Eggs, that kind of thing. Want to see?”
He pretended to open the box. Fiona immediately leapt behind Ferdinand, eyes shut tight.
“No no no! Don’t open it! I’ll have nightmares!”
Ferdinand gave Wade a playful tap on the head. Wade grinned mischievously.
After dinner, he returned to his room and opened the briefcase.
Inside, packed tightly, were dozens of personal resumes—photos, names, personality traits, family members. Among them, a transparent specimen pouch held three or four strands of hair.
These were the “magical materials” Ferdinand had collected for him—mostly from prisoners. Some looked dangerously volatile at a glance; others seemed harmless, even sweet.
Others came from barbershops or hospitals. The photos included men and women, old and young.
Collecting hair was easy. But gathering information about the owner—especially without hiring anyone—was incredibly difficult. Ferdinand had spent weeks, slowly gathering this collection.
As for Polyjuice Potion, Wade had already brewed a large batch last term.
When used properly, it fooled even Dumbledore—proven once before by Barty Crouch.
(End of Chapter)
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