Chapter 284: Diary
After a long pause, Dumbledore finally spoke. “So… you want to destroy it as well?”
“I believe that decision should be yours,” Wade said. “This Horcrux is… unusual. Even I’ve been hesitant about how to handle it.”
Dumbledore remained silent for a moment, then said, “Then… let me see it.”
“Of course I can’t carry such a thing with me at all times,” Wade explained. “To avoid any unexpected incidents, I left it here at the school.”
“At your dormitory?” Dumbledore frowned slightly. “That’s not a safe choice. A Horcrux could easily tempt a student—or even a house-elf—into trying to flee with it.”
“No, not the dormitory,” Wade clarified. “It’s in the Room of Requirement, on the eighth floor of the castle. You remember, don’t you? That’s where I found Ravenclaw’s crown—another Horcrux created by Voldemort.”
The last time Wade had spoken openly with Dumbledore, it had been in this very cave, aboard the boats drifting toward the center of the Black Lake. He’d recounted how he’d discovered the crown in the Room of Requirement, but at the time, another of Voldemort’s Horcruxes had been right before them, and Dumbledore hadn’t pressed further.
Wade knew Dumbledore couldn’t have forgotten that moment. Yet the headmaster had never pursued it. In the past, Wade had found such mutual respect—this unspoken distance—reassuring, even comforting. Once something was dealt with, there was no need to reopen old wounds.
But now, he wondered: perhaps Dumbledore wasn’t unwilling to go further. Perhaps he simply possessed a restraint and patience beyond what most could imagine.
“Ah… a remarkably clever idea,” Dumbledore said, closing his eyes briefly, as if shaking off some lingering emotion.
He smiled gently. “If it’s in the Room of Requirement, then indeed, no one else could find it easily—except you. That might be the safest place in the entire world…”
He thought of Voldemort’s own attempt to apply for a position at Hogwarts, of how long the crown had remained hidden within the castle’s walls, of the time he’d accidentally stumbled upon the Room of Requirement himself.
“Voldemort realized this quickly. But I never did. I kept boasting about how well I knew the school… Relf was right. I was far too arrogant.”
Relf?
Wade frowned. That name felt familiar. He searched his memory—then it came to him.
It was Makki who mentioned him.
The house-elf had said Relf was the oldest in the school, even older than Dumbledore himself. House-elves lived for over two centuries, often serving multiple generations within ancient wizarding families, and thus held deep knowledge of their secrets.
After a moment, waiting for Dumbledore to finish his reflection, Wade asked, “Shall we return to the school? I’ll retrieve the Horcrux for you.”
Dumbledore didn’t object. He placed a hand on Wade’s arm, and Fawks landed gently on his shoulder. A flash of flame, and they appeared on the eighth floor of the castle.
Sibbald’s portrait stood nearby, still being pummeled by giants in ballet costumes, looking as foolish as ever.
Wade walked down the corridor three times. Then, a familiar door emerged from the wall. He turned to Dumbledore.
“Professor, if you’d wait a moment.”
“Of course,” Dumbledore said, patient and calm.
Wade pulled open the door, stepped inside, and closed it behind him. Only then did he exhale deeply.
He unclipped the pouch from his belt and dropped it to the ground. Instantly, it transformed into a suitcase.
Wade opened the case, retrieved the Shielding Magic Box, and activated it. Inside, the black notebook lay perfectly still.
It was Tom Riddle’s diary.
The Horcrux… had been with Wade all along.
Even during class, when the pouch was disguised as a backpack, or when he’d transformed into a falcon and clutched it in his claw, it had never left his side.
Though the diary had remained quiet, though Wade had kept it locked away in the shielding box, he had never, for a single moment, considered leaving it with his parents in the same house.
And leaving it at school, risking someone discovering it and taking it? That was unthinkable.
His earlier words had only been driven by the atmosphere of the cave—or perhaps by the quiet weight of Dumbledore’s emotion, which had unsettled him.
But now, back in the familiar halls of Hogwarts, Wade felt himself relax. He could clearly sense Dumbledore returning to the wise, composed elder he knew.
Thinking of that cold, gripping hand from earlier, Wade let out a soft sigh.
Ariana—Dumbledore’s sister’s death—had haunted him for over a century. And still, it was a wound that never truly healed.
Wade snapped the box shut, transformed it back into the pouch, and slipped it into his pocket. Then, holding the box, he stepped out of the Room of Requirement.
“Professor,” he said, “this is the Horcrux I mentioned. The last one I could find.”
Dumbledore hesitated briefly before taking the box. He opened it, saw the diary inside, and blinked in surprise.
“This is Tom Riddle’s diary,” Wade explained. “At the start of second year, I saw Lucius Malfoy slip it into Ginny Weasley’s cauldron during the chaos. I managed to take it from her later.”
“It’s a sentient diary,” Wade continued. “It tried to communicate with me. But I’ve kept it locked in this box—never opened it.”
He didn’t explain why.
In Dumbledore’s eyes, Wade was a wizard with a kind of precognitive ability. So foreseeing the danger of this diary? That made perfect sense.
Dumbledore took the diary, studying the tattered black cover with quiet intensity. He opened the first page. The name—Tom Marvolo Riddle—was written in careful script.
In the headmaster’s hands, the diary seemed ordinary, unremarkable, as if it held no trace of ancient magic.
But Dumbledore’s eyes darted across the blank pages, as if searching for something hidden.
After a long silence, he closed it.
“Thank you, Wade,” Dumbledore said softly, gently. “This diary may be the first Horcrux Voldemort ever made. I believe it will tell us much… very important things.”
“I’m glad it might help you,” Wade replied. “But I do have one request—after you’re done studying it, don’t destroy it with fire. Use a basilisk fang instead. Leave it intact. It might still have other uses…”
He lowered his voice, speaking just above a whisper.
Dumbledore’s expression shifted—surprise, then a slow, quiet smile spread across his face.
(End of Chapter)
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