Chapter 257 Riddle: Damn it.
"Ravenclaw House relies on the wisdom and judgment of its members to deal with Dark Arts," Rowena said, "and I'm not just referring to myself, but all the wizards who belong to my House."
Dylan nodded. "As I thought. Your approach to Dark Arts is correct."
Rowena smiled. "The true danger is never in the magic itself, but in the intentions of the person wielding it. I've always encouraged my students to use thought and learning to form a rational understanding of Dark Arts, rather than blindly following prohibitions."
Dylan gave a soft laugh. "To master knowledge with wisdom, rather than be consumed by it—your motto has been passed down through the ages and has always served as a reminder to me."
"Has it? If it can be a reminder to you, I imagine it might be of some use to the other students as well."
"Undoubtedly," Dylan said. He opened the diary he was holding and gently tapped it. A soul immediately flew out.
The soul looked as if it had been ripped from the diary. It was the young soul of Voldemort—Tom Riddle. He was suspended in mid-air, the sleeves of his white shirt stained with what looked like grotesque blood-red marks. His handsome face now held a hint of malevolence, and his dark eyes were like a bottomless, cold abyss, fixed intently on Dylan. His face held the arrogance unique to youth, but his eyes were filled with simmering resentment at being imprisoned and defied.
Still, he dared not show his hatred. Instead, he suppressed it beneath a calm exterior, his eyes only slightly narrowed as he watched Dylan silently.
Thirty years East, thirty years West. Never underestimate a Dark Lord in decline!
He would reclaim everything that was his, one day. All he had to do now was be patient and wait.
"So this is the Dark Lord you mentioned, the one who made my diadem into a Horcrux?" Rowena's voice held a note of surprise. "He was able to create a Horcrux at this age?"
Hearing Rowena's voice, Riddle's gaze shifted to Dylan's side, to the woman standing behind him. She wore a bronze eagle circlet on her head and had a serene, beautiful face that radiated a keen, intellectual aura.
Seeing that familiar face, Riddle's hovering body stilled imperceptibly. The malevolence in his eyes was replaced by a strange shock. He raised an eyebrow slightly and his mouth opened, his expression a little dumbstruck, as if he had just encountered a "variable" that did not fit his expectations.
"She..."
Dylan chuckled. "Looks like you recognize her? That makes sense. After all, the portraits of the four Hogwarts founders are in the school. You turned her relic into a Horcrux, so you must know what she looks like."
At Dylan's words, Riddle's focus returned. He looked up and down at Rowena, his face revealing his shock. "You... how did you... she... how is she...?"
Dylan snapped his fingers. Riddle's mouth instantly seemed to be sewn shut with thread. He could only mumble, unable to form a coherent word.
Dylan shook his head. "You don't need to worry about how I brought a former founder here. Perhaps you'll even get to meet the other three later. For now, your new job has arrived." Dylan looked at Riddle, his eyes filled with a smile, as if he were looking at a valuable commodity.
Despite being somewhat used to this kind of gaze, Riddle still felt a deep sense of humiliation. And with an outsider standing here, watching him be treated like a slave, it was even worse.
Damn it... When I'm fully resurrected, I'll tear this boy limb from limb!
Of course, Riddle didn't dare to voice his thoughts. If he did, another round of Dark Magic awaited him. He thought about the past, when almost everyone in the magical world feared his Dark Magic. But now? Now he was the one who feared someone else's Dark Magic! It was the ultimate disgrace!
Rowena covered her mouth to suppress a giggle. "So this is the soul he split off in his youth?"
Dylan nodded.
Rowena also began to study Riddle. "From Slytherin House?"
"That's right."
"Hmm, I knew his philosophy would lead students astray." Rowena gently shook her head. "To be able to create a Horcrux at such a young age shows a cruel heart. But his talent is clearly outstanding, or he wouldn't have become the Dark Lord of your era."
"Dark Lord..."
Rowena tasted the words. Then, she let out a soft laugh. "In our time, everyone had their own understanding of magic, but no one ever dared to call themselves a 'Dark Lord.' Perhaps not even a 'Lord' of anything."
Dylan nodded gently. "In fact, besides this one, another Dark Lord was extremely active in the early 20th century. But he was defeated by the greatest Light wizard of this century and is now imprisoned."
"The greatest Light wizard?"
"That would be Dumbledore, whom I've mentioned before."
Rowena nodded slightly. "I see. It seems this Dumbledore is an exceptional talent."
"What do you want me to do?" Riddle asked, his patience gone as the two ignored him completely.
Dylan gave him a sideways glance.
Riddle's body went rigid, and his eyelids twitched. The prolonged torment had left him numb, no matter how arrogant he was. He kept telling himself that if he could just endure and wait for his true body to be resurrected, he would have a chance to turn the tables. But in reality, he was terrified that this young wizard would destroy all his other soul fragments, leaving him as the sole remnant... And since he was now in Dylan's hands, what difference would it make even if he was resurrected?
Riddle tried to avoid thinking about these things, but the thought always lingered in his mind, circling relentlessly. Over time, he had developed a genuine fear of Dylan. The humiliation he was enduring now wasn't just to buy time for a potential comeback; it was also insurance. If he truly had no other choice and ended up permanently in the hands of this damn wizard, the humiliation he endured now might at least earn him a little mercy in the end. A smart person always finds the most comfortable path for themselves.
Even if he didn't believe in fate, or heaven, or in a god, even if he believed he was a god, even a god could be... violated. And if that was the case, he might as well create as many options for himself as he could.
For this reason, Riddle had learned to be patient, to feign weakness, and even... to be subservient in front of Dylan.
"It seems you're eager for your new job. Good," Dylan said, satisfied. He lifted his hand, and Rowena Ravenclaw's diadem appeared on the table, right next to the diary.
The silver metal was free of any dust. The gleaming gems refracted a mysterious, subtle blue light. It lay quietly beside the diary, clearly reflecting the lines on the leather cover.
Riddle's spectral form was already floating in the air. The moment his eyes landed on the diadem, it was as if an invisible hand had seized him. His dark eyes widened, his pupils shrank to pinpricks, and his hovering body swayed, nearly falling back into the diary.
"This... this is impossible..." Riddle's voice was hoarse with a panic he had never shown before. The words were squeezed from his throat, as if crushed. "How is it here? No, where did you find it? No, this isn't right..."
All composure and calculation had vanished from Riddle's face, replaced by pure shock. His gaze was glued to the diadem. His worst fears had come true! The reason he was so subservient, treated like a rat in the sewer and used for all sorts of experiments, was so he could be truly resurrected one day and take revenge for all this humiliation. But now... he was trapped like this.
And worst of all! Another Horcrux had fallen into the hands of this damnable wizard! The distance was so close that he could feel the soul fragment within the diadem, the one that shared his own origin. It was trying its hardest to hide, to conceal itself within the circlet and not be found. But what was the point of hiding now that the Horcrux was in this boy's hands? One or two Unforgivable Curses would be all it took to force it out.
Oh, no!
Things shouldn't have turned out this way... Why did this happen?
Riddle's spectral form swayed again, becoming even dimmer.
Rowena blinked. It seemed this so-called Dark Lord, Voldemort, had endured quite a bit of torment at Dylan's hands. They might both be considered prisoners now, but she, at least, was a prisoner who could help Dylan manage his world. In contrast, this notorious Dark Lord, who had caused such a stir in the wizarding world, was trapped in a tiny Horcrux, enduring infinite pain.
"I think you know what your next task is, don't you?" Dylan asked with a warm smile.
Riddle's expression was stiff, his face ashen. Another Horcrux was in Dylan's hands. What did that mean? This despicable, cruel boy was trying to round up all his Horcruxes!
What should I do? What should I do? What do I do now?!
Dylan watched as the boy murmured to himself, his eyes narrowing further. Riddle was an incredibly cunning and intelligent person, as evidenced by how easily he had framed Hagrid in his school days. Dylan knew that even in his current state, Riddle was likely plotting something.
But it didn't matter what he was plotting. This world belonged to Dylan. Here, Dylan was a god! All of Riddle's schemes were useless in the face of absolute power. What did a few cunning plans matter? An Unforgivable Curse could shatter them all! Unless Voldemort had the power to break through this world, he had no chance of escaping. But Dylan's world was not like Newt Scamander's suitcase. It was integrated with his pet space and was strengthened by his system, not just a simple pocket dimension. The laws of this world were also a part of it. So even if Voldemort could break through a normal world...
A slight smile played on Dylan's lips. "Your soul is hidden so tightly, I can't even get to it. For the next two days, you're going to have a good talk with him and convince him to come out. I won't hurt him."
Dylan paused. "But if you can't get him to leave the Horcrux, and I don't see him out of there, you will be punished." Dylan's gaze was calm, but Riddle felt a deep sense of dread. His lips trembled, his face twitching. Though his heart rebelled against Dylan's demand, the cold reality before him forced him to bow his head.
"I-I understand. But... if he doesn't come out, why would you punish me? Why don't you just punish him...?"
Dylan waved a hand dismissively. "This is my House Founder's diadem, my House Founder's relic. It's not your worthless, tattered notebook. If I wear this diadem, it can clear my mind and make my magic flow. What use is your diary?"
Riddle's lips twisted violently, and his eye twitched.
Damn it!
What kind of situation was this?! He, a soul fragment, had to awaken another soul fragment. If he couldn't, he would be punished, not the other one? Was there no justice in this world?
Riddle took a deep breath. He forced a strained smile and nodded, agreeing to the task. "I understand. I'll do my best to awaken him, but..." He paused, carefully raising his eyes to Dylan. "You've been studying me. You must know that as long as one soul remains intact, it's very difficult for the others to awaken."
Dylan nodded. "Of course, I know that. That's why I'm making you do it."
Riddle: You... son of a bitch!
He was silent for a moment, then let out a shaky breath, repeatedly telling himself: A noble wizard must be elegant! Even in disgrace, I cannot utter such vile words! As the most dignified Dark Lord in the world, I must maintain my resolve!
"I understand," Riddle said, the words ground out between his teeth.
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