Chapter 150: Aftermath Of The Chamber Of Secrets
“Horcrux, a Dark Magic creation invented by the despicable Herpo, splits the soul and lodges it in an apparatus. As long as the apparatus is not destroyed, the soul does not dissipate, granting eternal life.” Melvin laid the shocking answer directly before the headmaster.
“You already knew?”
Dumbledore was shaken by his bluntness.
“A Horcrux not only lodges the soul but also the memories of its host.” Melvin said unhurriedly, “Tom Riddle’s soul fragment contains his memories, and these unspeakable secrets.”
“You mean, you found a Horcrux and obtained these secrets from it?” Dumbledore spoke a bit faster.
“Yes, an ordinary Muggle diary.” Melvin nodded slightly, “Tom Riddle must have made more than one Horcrux. I suspect this one might be the first he created, containing his memories from before age 16.”
“16 years old… sixth year, even earlier than I expected.” Dumbledore said softly.
Melvin paused briefly before recounting the speech he had long prepared: “The matter starts with Ravenclaw’s Diadem. Last year, it was found in the Room of Requirement, and you seemed to value it greatly. Influenced by that, I became interested in other founders’ relics too, like the Hufflepuff’s Goblet and Slytherin’s Locket you mentioned. Coincidentally, I know a friend who owns an old objects shop…”
“Borgin and Burke’s in Knockturn Alley, where he worked after graduation.”
Melvin picked up the teacup and took a sip to moisten his throat: “At that time, the manager in charge of the shop’s business was Mr. Burke. Now it’s Mr. Borgin. Through some business dealings, Mr. Borgin and I built a close enough connection. One chance occasion, we talked about founders’ relics.”
“According to Mr. Borgin, his partner, Mr. Burke, once bought Slytherin’s Locket at a low price from a Gaunt Family witch, then sold it at a high price to another witch, Hokey’s owner, a descendant of Helga Hufflepuff, Hepzibah Smith.”
“There was also a shop assistant in the shop at that time, Tom Riddle.”
“Truly…” Dumbledore couldn’t help sighing, “a wondrous coincidence.”
“I just returned from New York this summer, a few days before term started. That period coincided with the Ministry of Magic’s crackdown operation. I had some business to discuss with Mr. Borgin, and during idle chat in the shop, I encountered Mr. Malfoy coming to handle some contraband items.”
Melvin paused briefly: “Those low-priced contraband items weren’t all Dark Magic artifacts; there were also some oddities, like smuggled flying carpets and protective animal furs, and among them, a diary.”
“Diary?” Dumbledore repeated softly.
Melvin nodded: “A Muggle-made diary, the kind sold at newspaper kiosks, completely blank inside, with only Tom Riddle’s name on the flyleaf.”
Dumbledore’s deep blue eyes lit up, his tone somewhat astonished: “That diary is the Horcrux.”
“Yes, at the time I didn’t know about Horcruxes yet. I just felt the diary was full of suspicious points. Why would Pure-blood Wizard Mr. Malfoy have a Muggle diary? Why mix it in with contraband? What connection does he have with Tom Riddle? Why are all the inner pages blank?”
Melvin paused, meeting the headmaster’s gaze: “So I bought it.”
Dumbledore listened with great interest. He had actually guessed that Melvin had a Horcrux, which was why he had tested him that time. Now with confirmation, he felt greatly relieved.
“After some research and investigation, I discovered this diary, like a magical portrait, has its own consciousness and memory, able to converse with the outside world through writing. The owner of this memory and consciousness belongs to 16-year-old Tom Riddle.”
This part was all true, so Melvin spoke with great confidence, without a hint of guilt.
Dumbledore’s expression grew slightly more serious.
“At first, I thought it was something like a wizard portrait. With caution, I tried conversing with it. He hadn’t communicated with the outside world for many years, so to keep getting information from me, he disguised himself as an ordinary wizard in our exchanges.”
“I obtained much magical knowledge from Tom. I must admit, Tom is very learned, especially in the field of Dark Magic. This two-way exchange was very pleasant.”
Melvin glanced at the headmasters’ portraits on the wall. Headmaster Dippet and Headmaster Black listened with serious faces, silent and obediently staying in their frames, fearing Dumbledore would turn them over.
“After months of interaction, I learned about the Chamber of Secrets and Horcruxes, and realized he was once Voldemort.”
“…”
The portraits on the wall were stunned, baffled.
Weren’t they just talking about obtaining information and discussing Dark Magic? How did it jump to Horcruxes in an instant? What did they miss?
Dumbledore’s eyes flickered slightly, revealing a thoughtful expression.
This story was logically consistent. The investigation of founders’ relics and obtaining the Horcrux followed a similar process, but the exchange content afterward was vague, with obvious gaps, clearly hiding something.
He could candidly reveal Horcruxes and Dark Magic, so why omit the content of the exchanges?
Dumbledore pondered with his head lowered. The silverware ornaments on the desk emitted white mist, time passing in the swirling vapor.
Tom Riddle wouldn’t write unspeakable secrets in the diary, nor tell them to a pen pal he’d known for just a few months. If Chamber of Secrets intel was leaked, it might be Voldemort trying to use Melvin to disrupt the school for his own ends, but regardless, Voldemort absolutely wouldn’t reveal any clues about Horcruxes.
After all, the Diadem had been in his hands for nearly two years, and he still hadn’t pried out any valuable clues.
Was 16-year-old Tom Riddle easier to fool?
Dumbledore subtly glanced at Armando Dippet’s portrait, then at the tea-sipping Melvin, his gaze profound.
This young professor had clearly concealed some matters, but he didn’t plan to press further.
“A Horcrux is a very important clue, and a key item against Voldemort.” Dumbledore said thoughtfully, “Melvin, I want to purchase the diary from you for some research.”
“Shouldn’t it be destroyed directly?”
“I will, after the research.”
“Alright then, the diary is in my office. I’ll give it to you later.” Melvin agreed without much hesitation.
After all, it was just Tom Riddle’s memories from before age 16. All the value that could be extracted had been, so handing it to the headmaster now was putting it to good use.
This decisiveness instead stunned Dumbledore briefly: “If you feel the price is unsuitable, I can compensate in other ways.”
“Sounds like Santa Claus…”
Melvin initially wanted to politely decline, but suddenly remembered something. Changing his tone to one of uprightness, he said: “I’m now a Hogwarts professor too. Helping the headmaster against Voldemort and protecting student safety is my duty. I believe that if I need the headmaster’s help in the future, he would do the same for me.”
The matter promised to the Cabal Remnants during summer vacation in Budapest—releasing that one from Nurmengard—could be done by him alone, but considering various factors, it was safer to have the headmaster handle it.
Though that was two years away.
Dumbledore looked at the young professor’s face, feeling the second half of his words laden with meaning, as if a pit had already been dug waiting for him. But he still nodded: “Melvin, thank you very much.”
“If you’re destroying the Horcrux, remember to let me watch.” Melvin said casually.
Dumbledore couldn’t help laughing: “Of course.”
…
Dinner time, Great Hall, high table.
The four deans sat on either side, Headmaster Dumbledore in the center seat, casually enjoying dinner, his gaze mainly on the item beside him: an old diary.
Professor McGonagall was troubled: “First time in fifty years, so many students injured on campus. Over a dozen parents have written asking about the situation. If not for regard for Hogwarts’s signboard, Howlers would have arrived.”
“Don’t say that, Minerva…”
“No one could predict this accident.”
Professors Flitwick and Sprout hurriedly chimed in to comfort her.
Melvin felt a bit sorry toward Professor McGonagall. Actually, the parents were easier to handle; the Board of Governors was more troublesome. Those Pure-blood Wizards had long tried to interfere in school affairs, and this time they would likely make trouble and demand accountability.
Though it wouldn’t amount to much, it was still annoying.
Melvin cleared his throat and spoke: “In my view, this accident had human factors too. It’s all Professor Lockhart’s fault—he tricked Drama Club members into the Chamber of Secrets, putting dozens of students in danger.”
“Exactly, exactly!” Professor Sprout nodded in agreement.
Professor Flitwick found it a bit odd but nodded along.
“Several students can testify, and Lockhart’s true colors will be exposed.” Melvin said lowly, “Coincidentally, I have an editor friend at a publisher who can report the truth in the newspapers, letting parents and the Board of Governors see the real culprit!”
Professors Sprout and Flitwick immediately brightened, nodding vigorously. Lockhart really was no good!
“By the way, how is Lockhart?” Melvin asked.
“He’s woken up, but his condition isn’t good.” Professor McGonagall’s brows were still slightly furrowed, “Headmaster Derwent visited St. Mungo’s before dinner to check on him. The Healers say Lockhart already had memory disorder symptoms, and after being backlashed by his own powerful Obliviate, his mind was thoroughly scrambled—he can’t even remember who he is.”
Dilys Derwent was a former headmaster with a portrait in the Headmaster’s Office. She had also served as dean of St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, with a portrait there too, making travel between them even more convenient than the Floo Network.
The professors’ expressions were complex: “This is truly…”
“It’s no excuse for escaping trial.” Melvin was resolute, “I’ll contact my newspaper friends to report this. The Ministry of Magic will also initiate prosecution after he’s discharged!”
Professor McGonagall nodded slightly: “One last matter: the Chamber of Secrets’s Basilisk needs handling.”
“Leave that to me too.”
Melvin’s tone was solemn, fully embodying the responsibility of a Muggle Studies professor.
