Chapter 205: Partner
The first class after the holiday ends, the classroom on the second floor near the staircase entrance.
This is Defence Against the Dark Arts, the classroom spans two floors, and there’s a semi-public secret passage inside directly connecting to Gilderoy Lockhart’s classroom upstairs. Harry knows this passage because Gilderoy Lockhart loves making him play those dark creatures, always having him rehearse in advance to avoid accidents like the Cornish Pixies and to find the performance style that best highlights his own smile.
Harry hasn’t been in this classroom for two weeks. He’s now carrying his schoolbag, hurrying into the classroom.
“It’s all your fault! If you hadn’t been staring mesmerized at Rowena Ravenclaw’s Seeker, we wouldn’t have missed the rotating staircase and been stuck for a full fifteen minutes!” Ron panted, complaining.
They sat in the third row in the middle, with Hermione right in front. The diligent early-rising know-it-all miss would never arrive just on time; she came to the classroom early and saved seats for them.
Actually, Harry and Ron wanted seats further back and nearer the window, convenient for listening to the lesson while also daydreaming and whispering on the side, but the temporary Defence Against the Dark Arts professor is Professor Levent. Considering Hermione’s fondness for that professor, it was already good that they didn’t sit in the first row.
After two weeks of Easter Holiday, returning to class, the classmates around were somewhat excited.
Ernie, Hannah, Justin, and Susan, Hufflepuff classmates who had been in class together for two years, were very familiar with each other and chatty. They wouldn’t quiet down in the few minutes before the bell rang.
“Harry, how’s your course selection form coming along?”
Almost everyone asked similar questions. They were already looking for classmates taking next term’s electives to prepare references for after-class homework.
Harry had similar thoughts and grinned: “Care of Magical Creatures, Divination, and… you know, Professor Levent’s Muggle Studies.”
“I knew you’d pick that way!”
Seamus immediately got excited, chuckling as he shared the news he’d heard: Professor Trelawney is the easiest to deal with, while Professor Victor of Arithmancy is notorious for heavy homework, one subject worth two or three… Harry laughed along while looking at the little partner in the front row.
The situation seemed a bit strange. Other classmates had filled out their course selection forms and were sharing their experiences and opinions, but only Hermione hadn’t revealed anything yet. She was shaking her head over her notebook, ears closed to chit-chat and jokes, single-mindedly reviewing her lessons. She had said yesterday that there were less than ten weeks until the exams.
What kind of talk is that?
Harry sighed and poked the shoulder in front with his quill: “Hermione, Hermione, what classes did you pick?”
“I told you, I’m interested in all the electives.”
“But…”
“I’ve already handed in my course selection form. Professor McGonagall said there would be a way.”
“…”
Harry scratched his head. What way could there be? Weekend tutoring classes?
The class bell rang, and Professor Levent walked into the classroom right on time, still as handsome and dashing, carrying the golden goblet with badger engravings, summoning Professor Gaunt to substitute, while he sat on the stage slacking off.
“Long time no see, my dear children…” The ghost-like ethereal figure floated in mid-air, dutifully lecturing.
Harry felt some anticipation, hoping Professor Gaunt had changed his mindset over the holiday, skipping the after-class discussion Q&A, or at least not hovering right in front of him during Q&A.
Harry looked up at that figure, listening to the lesson while hoping, then the after-class discussion segment arrived.
“Sigh…”
“Don’t sigh, Harry. The professor’s here. Help me ask these questions.” Hermione turned her head and urged him softly, pointing to a few notes in her notebook.
“Sigh…”
“Any questions about today’s lesson?” Professor Gaunt floated over with a warm smile, inquiring. This was a pointless question; whether there were questions or not, he would linger here, chatting with Harry in various ways.
“A few points I don’t understand.” Harry glanced at the little partner in front, picked up the notes on the desk, and asked one by one. “Professor, you just said the goblin curse isn’t suitable for use in the forest…”
“A very meaningful question. I must say it’s your outstanding talent and wisdom that made you notice this…”
Professor Gaunt said with a smile, “The goblin curse isn’t an instant enemy-defeating spell. It’s very effective against small things like Cornish Pixies, but it will also disturb other fairy creatures. In a forest with limited visibility, it’s not a wise choice.”
Hermione and the others nearby stayed silent. Such scenes were already commonplace; after all, this professor was Harry’s fanatic fan.
Harry, the person involved, still hadn’t gotten used to it and felt goosebumps all over, very uncomfortable: “Professor, you really don’t have to do this…”
“Oh, you don’t understand, Harry.” Professor Gaunt’s face still bore a kindly smile. “In those past years, that person was always the dark cloud over the wizarding world. He wore the crown of dark magic; he was the most powerful dark wizard. You escaped his wand twice and defeated him. You don’t understand how exalted an achievement that is for those studying Defence Against the Dark Arts.”
“Er…” Harry felt his face heat up, dizzy. It was the first time an adult wizard had praised him so directly, face-to-face.
“I have a request, Harry.” Professor Gaunt looked at him kindly. “Can you tell me how you did it?”
“It wasn’t me; it was my mother.” Harry said softly.
“What?”
“My mother died to save me. She used a very advanced magic; I don’t know the details. I only know…” Harry suddenly felt a bit downcast and didn’t explain in detail. “Anyway, when Voldemort attacked me, this magic suddenly made him lose his power.”
There was still chatter from other classmates in the classroom, but the desks in the surrounding rows quieted down. Hermione quietly looked up and saw Professor Levent had raised his head at some point, watching from afar with an indescribable smile in his eyes.
That look reminded Hermione of the gaze zoo tourists give monkeys: a bit mocking and sarcastic, yet with some anticipation.
Meanwhile, Professor Gaunt nearby had a somewhat twisted expression, as if trying hard to suppress his emotions. Only after a long time did he force out an ugly smile.
“So that’s how it is. Truly… truly moving.”
……
“So that’s how it is! So that’s how it is!”
The ethereal figure floated in mid-air, pacing back and forth as if walking on air. Riddle’s face showed a twisted smile, his laughter mad like a lunatic. “I understand. I understand it all!”
“His mudblood mother died to save him. That was a very effective counter-curse, but in the end, there’s nothing special about Potter. He’s just an ordinary student, mediocrely talented, stupid-headed, lazy, and unremarkable!”
Yurm eyed the phantom obliquely, forked tongue hissing.
Riddle had made great sacrifices these past months. The former Death Eater leader, the most powerful Dark Lord ever, had been pretending to be Harry’s fanatic fan, patiently answering questions, tirelessly praising his talent, finally extracting clues about that night in Godric’s Hollow, and immediately deducing with his vast magical knowledge the counter-curse Potter’s mother had used.
It was a bit earlier than expected, but that was fine. It was already late April, soon May, with few Defence Against the Dark Arts classes left.
“Do you really think so?”
Melvin buried his head in grading holiday homework, not looking up.
“I used to have similar doubts as you, Melvin, because Potter has some things very similar to me. We’re both half-bloods, both orphans, raised by Muggles. You even told me he speaks Parseltongue, and even our appearances are somewhat similar. It’s a very peculiar connection.”
Riddle spoke slowly, then his tone turned colder: “But in the end, he just got lucky escaping me. His past, my future… just an accident.”
“And then?”
Melvin set aside the graded parchment and started on the next thesis. “What are you going to do? Duel him to compare power? You’re just a phantom now, without even a wand. Teach him a lesson? Release the basilisk from the Chamber of Secrets? The diary was tried last year, but Dumbledore noticed. It was a dreadful outcome.”
Riddle glanced at Melvin and Yurm, his gaze dark and complex, inscrutable.
“What are you looking at?”
Melvin dipped his quill in ink and looked up just in time to meet his eyes, sighing dramatically. “You still unwilling to trust me? I told you, the diary and I are partners, friends. I help him in exchange for knowledge and wealth. Is all this dark magic on me fake?”
He brought out the masterful acting of a stage designer, emotions sincere, lines moving. “Back then, the diary rushed to revenge without investigating the truth fully and entrusted me to slip it to a student. He manipulated the student to open the Chamber of Secrets, causing some commotion, but this is Hogwarts. The diary underestimated Dumbledore; the incident was quickly settled, and the diary itself was exposed and taken by Dumbledore for study.”
“When we first met, that’s not what you said.” Riddle said coldly. “You said the diary was safe!”
“Dumbledore is just studying it. As long as he hasn’t discovered the Horcrux, the diary is safe.”
“Why didn’t you open the Chamber of Secrets?” Riddle asked in a deep voice.
“Because I can’t expose myself!”
Melvin was equally righteous. “I’m the only one who can operate outside and is willing to help you. Think about it: so many years after Godric’s Hollow, have your Death Eaters looked for you? Do they still want to serve you?”
Riddle was speechless for a moment.
“Only I, this foreign professor, not a Death Eater, with a clean identity that won’t raise suspicion, and who remembers you, the Dark Lord.” Melvin spoke righteously. “The diary trusted me, so it told me of your existence. Facts prove I’m trustworthy too.”
Riddle looked into his eyes, black pupils like the Black Lake abyss. He still couldn’t fully trust this professor; too many questions unresolved, and when first summoning the phantom, there had been faint hostility and disdain.
Riddle sometimes felt Levent’s tales were all lies, that this man was actually Dumbledore’s spy, but that profound dark magic mastery couldn’t be faked. From what he knew of Dumbledore, he would never trust such a wizard.
Moreover, Levent had fulfilled his initial promise, letting him approach Potter and uncover the truth.
“I think we should lie low now.”
Melvin advised sincerely. “Dumbledore himself sits at Hogwarts; his influence spans the wizarding world, even the Ministry of Magic has his eyes. Whether power or duelling strength, we’re no match. The most urgent is to find your main soul and prepare revival. Only the true Dark Lord can deal with him.”
Cold light flickered in Riddle’s eyes: “With enough magic power absorbed, I can return from the golden goblet too.”
“Is the you in the golden goblet stronger than your future self?” Melvin asked, as if truly considering for him. “Even if you regain a body, how many years to catch up to Dumbledore? Ten? Twenty? The most efficient way is still to find the true Dark Lord and let him return in his most powerful form.”
“What’s your plan?”
Seeing the phantom wavering, Melvin continued persuading: “The world is so vast; finding a lost soul with our power is nearly impossible. So we need help, help from your old Death Eaters.”
“…”
“I know you don’t want to expose yourself to them, don’t want them discovering the Horcrux secret, so let me be the middleman. Tell me their secrets and leverage, and I’ll convey your orders.”
Melvin was certain he wouldn’t want to appear personally before Death Eaters. Voldemort needed servants to fear him; he couldn’t show himself as a weak phantom.
Riddle’s gaze shifted, and he quickly decided: “I know the Malfoy family’s smuggling channels.”
“Malfoy is shrewd but cowardly, not suitable.”
“Goyle and Crabbe.”
“Troll bodies, troll brains, stupid and reckless, not suitable.”
“Sounds like you already have a target.”
“What do you think of Nott?”
“The Nott family was once involved in poaching horned beasts. They have a secret farm in Scotland raising silent birds for making Veritaserum…”
Melvin pulled out a blank parchment from the desk and noted down these secrets one by one.
The Nott family mainly does potions business. Regular potions procure ingredients from the market; irregular ones mean finding ways themselves: poaching, smuggling, breeding on their own, many protected creatures. Per Mr. Scamander’s regulations, if strictly enforced with max fines, this paper alone would bankrupt the Nott family.
Riddle’s phantom floated in the air, expressionless as he watched his actions.
Even now, he still didn’t believe this young wizard. He didn’t believe those claims, or at least not fully.
During this time, Melvin used the golden goblet to brew potions, and he had tried absorbing magic power too, but with almost no gain. That magic power was unlike an ordinary wizard’s, more like some magical creature; the goblet could convert it, but he couldn’t absorb or use it at all.
“Actually, I’ve always had a question.” Melvin was in a very good mood.
“Speak.”
“Your soul fragments can return from Horcruxes, and the main soul can return too. If you all revive at the same time, which one is the true Voldemort?”
“…”
Riddle froze in mid-air.
