Chapter 121: Senior Riddle Is Always Willing To Help
The banquet ended.
Melvin walked up the marble staircase, a polite but perfunctory smile on his face, with the new Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor following beside him.
Lockhart walked in the middle with his head held high and chest puffed out, his wavy blond hair shining brightly. Taking advantage of the time going up the stairs together, he enthusiastically introduced his past adventure stories, implying mutual benefit and cooperation throughout, turning the adventure stories into moving pictures would make both the Projection Mirror and him more popular.
“It’s such a pity Harry couldn’t attend the banquet. I wanted us to take a photo together.
“I don’t have photos for many of my adventure stories. That’s too bad…
“For photographs that only move for a few seconds, things like yetis, werewolves, and vampires don’t photograph well, but I think your Projection Mirror can make up for that regret.”
Sir Cadogan stood guard in a landscape painting, listening in a daze, while the pony stood not far away, chewing on somewhat faded grass with a blank expression.
Melvin’s smile was somewhat helpless. He bid farewell to Sir Cadogan, exchanged pleasantries with the nun in the adjacent religious painting, then turned back to Lockhart and asked: “Professor Lockhart, I think you may have misunderstood. The Projection Mirror is a container that plays memories. If you want to make it into moving pictures, you need to provide all the memories of your adventure experiences.”
“Real memories?” Lockhart’s smile froze.
“Real memories are best.” Melvin glanced at him and said impassively, “This process will expose many things, like secret spells and family-passed-down potion recipes. For an adventurer like you, these secrets are wealth. Don’t you think?”
“Yes, yes.”
Lockhart’s forehead began to bead with sweat, but he still wouldn’t give up. “But the story of the first-years staying doesn’t seem like real memories either. There’s background music and narration?”
“The post-production process also involves editing, splicing, trimming, and adding music. We call that post-production work.”
“It sounds similar to the False Memory Charm.”
“Exactly right.” Melvin stopped at the staircase entrance. “The Defence Against the Dark Arts office is on the third floor. Let’s say goodbye here. Good night, Professor Lockhart.”
“Good night…”
Lockhart watched the young professor’s back gradually recede, put away his brilliant perfect smile, and began sorting through relevant memories in his mind.
He had found those heroes in remote areas, learned the details of the adventure stories, then used Obliviate to erase their memories and steal their heroic deeds.
He was familiar enough with the details of those stories, but since he hadn’t experienced them personally, it was impossible to construct real, clear memories.
“I have to do the impossible!”
Lockhart squeezed out a smile again, less warm and brilliant, more sinister.
His personal biography 《The Magical Me》 had sales far below his past adventure stories, not even matching toolbooks like 《Teach Yourself to Eradicate Household Pests》. Even if the publisher’s editor pushed him back to the Most Charming Smile Award position, sales were still dismal.
From the voting results, his popularity had also declined.
Both Lockhart and the editor knew that relying on consuming popularity for sales was not sustainable long-term. But where could he find new adventure stories?
To avoid the publisher’s urging for manuscripts, Lockhart agreed to teach at Hogwarts, also hoping to adapt his past books into films and return to the peak.
It seemed he still needed to find those old wizards and thoroughly steal their memories!
……
「09.01.1992, sunny.
First day of term at Hogwarts.
Sitting at the high table reviewing the Sorting Ceremony from a professor’s perspective felt very novel.
The Scamander child entered Hufflepuff, like his grandfather; the Weasley children entered Gryffindor, like her several brothers; the Shacklebolt child entered Slytherin, like his parents. Several other children from Death Eater families were sorted into Slytherin as wished. Colleagues all said it was expected.
I couldn’t help but wonder if wizard bloodlines really have some wondrous influence, or if it’s all due to family education.
The Dark Lord and Death Eaters—the wizard organization that once upheld pure-blood ideals was toppled and purged. Now their children still support pure-blood. Will they form a new organization later, or rally behind a new Dark Lord and reassemble the Death Eaters?
I don’t know. 」
Melvin inserted the quill back into the ink bottle, watching it absorb ink, the ink drying quickly. In just one or two seconds, the full, wet writing looked like it had been wind-dried in the desert for half a month, somewhat blurred.
It seemed no longer hiding it.
Melvin wasn’t sure if Riddle was deliberately leaving traces to pique his curiosity, or if he was distracted by the diary’s content and lost control.
The quill was full of ink. He pretended not to notice the change and wrote again:
「Harry Potter didn’t attend the banquet. He wasn’t seen at the Gryffindor long table.
Colleagues said he missed the Express Train due to some accident, so he came to school with the Weasley children in a modified flying car, causing a small-scale magic leak accident, crashing into the Whomping Willow’s branches, and was punished by Professor Snape to the underground room.
What an absurd and ridiculous accident.
I really can’t understand how such a stupid and incompetent student defeated the most powerful dark wizard in history as a baby.
Could the Dark Lord just be a name with no substance, and Voldemort just a figurehead pushed by the Death Eaters?
A manipulated puppet? 」
The last question mark fell, the diary trembled twice, and the dry ink scattered on the yellowed paper suddenly shook, drawn into the spine by an invisible force.
Senior Riddle finally couldn’t hold back.
A flash of smile in Melvin’s eyes vanished, then he seemed stunned, looking incredulously at the diary, reacting belatedly and retreating two steps hurriedly, pointing his wand at the diary.
【Aparecium】
【Original Form Stand】
【Mark Reveal】
A series of detection spells poured out, just like an ordinary wizard’s panicked response to discovering a Dark Magic item, but no results appeared on the diary.
The spell beams turned into scattered light spots.
Meeting Melvin’s shocked scrutinizing gaze, the yellowed paper trembled twice, ink oozed from the spine, forming a line of neat, elegant handwriting.
「Former Hogwarts student Tom Riddle sends you sincere greetings. 」
Melvin remained shocked and wary, controlling the quill from afar to write on the paper:
「Tom Riddle? Who are you—no, what are you? 」
「Rest assured, I’m not a Dark Magic creation. I’m just an ordinary student’s diary, wanting to leave a mark at school, and I happen to have some talent in alchemy. 」
“Oh…”
Melvin realized and wrote on the paper: 「Like a magical portrait? I get it. You originally wanted to make a portrait and frame to stay at school, but lacked the ability, so you made a special diary instead. 」
The 16-year-old Riddle in the diary was silent for two seconds, quickly accepting this: 「Yes. 」
「Do you need me to put you back in place? 」
「If possible, I would appreciate your help. 」
Now it was Melvin’s turn to be stunned. Sealed for over a decade, learning so much explosive news, yet still thinking of fulfilling its Horcrux duty by having itself hidden?
Was 16-year-old Tom Riddle this rational?
He even suspected his Occlumency and False Memory Charm had gone wrong.
But the words reappearing on the paper dispelled Melvin’s doubts:
「Or perhaps we could become friends, providing some minor help for your assistant teacher life. 」
A hint of smile appeared in Melvin’s eyes. So it was a ploy of retreating to advance, almost fooling him, but a bit too hasty.
He approached the desk again and wrote with the quill:
「What help can you give me? 」
These signs made Riddle feel he had earned the young professor’s trust, and his reply speed quickened:
「Hogwarts Castle’s layout, many unknown secrets, powerful profound magic techniques… I can offer advice on matters and find the best solutions. But first, can you tell me your name? 」
The diary took the initiative to ask for acquaintance. Melvin knew it had let down its guard, or saw him as prey falling into the web.
「You should know names can cast curses, for a mysterious diary like you… 」 Melvin deliberately paused for seconds, feigning hesitation, 「What’s your purpose in helping me? 」
「I’m just a diary. What bad intentions could I have? Just to help others. Go to the trophy display and see my trophy, see my achievements at school. Then you’ll know I’m a helpful, warm-hearted, friendly wizard. 」
Melvin almost laughed out loud. He sat back in the chair and continued writing:
「Sorry, I misunderstood you. On behalf of Melvin Lavent, I apologize. 」
「Now that the misunderstanding is cleared, deeper trust can be built. Let’s end here for today, Mr. Lavent. We can chat after you verify. 」
「Apologies again. I’m willing to trust you, but it’s too late now. Classes tomorrow, so see you then. 」
「We’re friends now, right? 」
「Yes, Tom. 」
“……”
Melvin closed the diary, exhaling deeply. As expected of Senior Riddle. A few exchanges of words, various tests of advancing by retreating, eliminating doubts and wariness seamlessly. An ordinary wizard unaware of the truth might really become friends with it.
But he had coped well too. Reviewing the past few days’ diary entries and the recent exchange, he had successfully established the image of a Hufflepuff young wizard through text: graduated just two years ago, cautious yet with the badger house’s characteristic naivety and gullibility.
Melvin got up to wash and prepare for bed, secretly guessing how many days before Riddle dropped the caring senior disguise and started probing for Harry’s news.
Truly anticipated.
No wonder the Headmaster hadn’t destroyed the diadem yet. This role-playing game was really interesting.
……
The next morning.
Melvin was about to step out of the office when he remembered something, turned back, and wrote in the diary:
「Good morning, Tom. Brought you colored ink. 」
Without waiting for the diary to reply, Melvin quickly closed it and stuffed it into the least conspicuous bottom drawer.
About half an hour later.
School Auditorium.
The magical dome was grayish today, matching the overcast gray sky outside.
Melvin sat at a side position at the high table enjoying breakfast, overhearing conversations from the long tables ahead and surrounding colleagues.
First day of term, all teachers and students present. The elective professor sat beside him; the four deans moved among the house tables distributing scheduled course schedules. Even Dumbledore, who usually stayed in the Headmaster’s Office, appeared.
Dumbledore chuckled while tasting pumpkin oatmeal, patiently introducing to Lockhart and agreeing with his self-boasting.
“Headmaster, the situation was extremely urgent then!”
“Mm…”
“The yeti’s claws were already swiping at my face!”
“Ah?”
“Do you know how I escaped? Pickled herring! I stuffed pickled herring up its nose!”
“Oh!”
Clearly just simple perfunctory interjections, but from the legendary wizard’s mouth, they provided full emotional value. Lockhart grinned uncontrollably, floating with joy.
Dumbledore noticed Melvin’s gaze, looked at Lockhart beside him, pondered briefly: “Professor Lockhart, that spell you used to turn the werewolf back to human form—could you demonstrate it for me?”
“Er…”
Lockhart immediately faltered, pretending to choke on fried egg, coughed a few times, then waved: “Cough cough… Sorry, Headmaster, I need to handle something.”
Dumbledore nodded with a smile, watching him hurry away.
Melvin smoothly took the seat, glanced at his undamaged fingers, skipped pleasantries and got to the point: “Headmaster, that diadem found last year—have you dealt with it?”
Dumbledore tasted the oatmeal, silently pondered for half a minute, carefully revealing some information, glossing over the Horcrux matter, saying he still needed to investigate Dark Magic item information from the diadem, but was currently stuck.
Melvin analyzed based on his own deductions.
Probably the Voldemort in the diadem was more cunning and familiar with Dumbledore’s face. The Headmaster tried role-playing to extract information, but the diadem quickly realized, unsure if Dumbledore was fishing or truly influenced, staying guarded and no longer revealing Horcrux core info.
The Headmaster and diadem were now in a standoff.
“I plan to talk to the Grey Lady again. If no progress, destroy it on a good day.”
Dumbledore’s tone was calm and cold.
……
“Oatmeal, a bit! Pickled Herring, try some!”
Harry was at the middle of the Gryffindor long table, tone cheerful, appetite hearty. No point deduction, no detention. Yesterday’s mischief was past; except for the Whomping Willow, no one was hurt.
Last night he was even praised by classmates; he felt a bit cool.
Ron beside him was in a good mood too, beaming as he added food to his platter: “Cream bread, one!”
“Mushroom soup, one!”
“Chicken ham sandwich…”
Harry and Ron both stopped, looked at each other, faces gradually paling: “Urp…”
Surrounding roommate classmates burst into loud laughter. They all knew of the duo’s stupidity. According to Seamus, these two guys went back last night, groaned in bed for half a day without sleeping, nearly insomniac.
Amid the merriment, owl postmen flew through the skylights into the Great Hall, bringing letters and packages from outside the school.
And a Howler full of motherly love.
