Chapter 213: Dumbledore: Long Time No See, Tom. Horcruxes
The Headmaster's office.
"Would you care for something sweet? You've had quite an eventful evening."
Dumbledore smiled at Leonardo and conjured several plates of sweets and pastries with a wave of his hand, immediately popping a milk toffee into his own mouth.
Leonardo picked up a glass and took a sip of honey-lemon water. Slaying the basilisk, facing down Tom, triggering Slytherin's legacy, saving Hagrid from arrest…
It had been a busy night. Something sweet was warranted.
Leonardo sidestepped the plate of Fudge Flies and picked up a peppermint cream instead.
The sweetness burst across his tongue, and he felt himself unwind, genuinely satisfied. No wonder the old bee loved his sugar so much. After a stretch of hard work, a hit of it really did soothe the fatigue.
"The Order of Merlin. I had wanted it to be a surprise for you, but it seems that plan has fallen through."
Dumbledore set down his teacup and regarded Leonardo with a warm, amused look.
"Headmaster, do you think Mr Malfoy's suggestion is actually feasible?"
Leonardo had been genuinely surprised when Lucius proposed the First Class. The last person he had expected it from.
But thinking it over, the proposal made sense as a gesture of goodwill.
From Lucius's perspective, he could not be sure how much Leonardo knew about the diary's true origin. As a precaution, any favour worth doing was worth doing now.
Still, Leonardo was uncertain about the First Class. If Dumbledore's earlier words were anything to go by, the Second Class had already been secured.
From a reputational standpoint, receiving the Order of Merlin at his age would be sensational regardless of class. Unlike his Transfiguration paper, which had circulated mainly within academic circles, the Order was the kind of news that would spread across the entire wizarding world—not just Britain, but Europe as well, and even further afield.
Once his name spread, sales of his magical products would surge, significantly accelerating repayment of the Emerald Tablet Fragment (annual loan).
"In truth, Leonardo, once your Second Class application was approved, many of the earlier concerns and obstacles had already been cleared. And your contribution tonight fully meets the requirements for the First Class."
Dumbledore went on to explain the standard criteria for the Order of Merlin, First Class. Leonardo had known most of it already, but hearing it laid out by the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot made it far clearer.
"Originally," Dumbledore said, "the Second Class was settled and would have been presented before the Christmas holidays. But applying for the First Class now will push the timeline back to next term. With the groundwork already in place, however, it should move quickly. Early next term, most likely."
"Good things are worth waiting for," Leonardo said.
Dumbledore studied him. The boy's composure in the face of such an honour was remarkable. Under normal circumstances, anyone would have been beside themselves—this would make Leonardo the youngest recipient of the Order of Merlin in history, and a direct jump to its highest class.
"Headmaster, so about this diary?"
Leonardo's gaze moved to the battered diary beside Dumbledore.
Dumbledore looked down at it. Behind his half-moon spectacles, something complicated flickered.
"Tom…"
"Leonardo, you mentioned that when Slytherin's legacy was triggered, Tom was dealt with by something Salazar left behind?"
Leonardo nodded. After passing on the legacy, Salazar had instructed him to inform the current Headmaster of Hogwarts.
Dumbledore sighed softly. The irony was not lost on him. Slytherin's most brilliant student—rejected by Slytherin himself.
He opened the diary's cover, revealing yellowed parchment.
As though sensing it was being handled, words began to surface on the page, slow and faint.
"Leonardo, you've won. I am willing to share all the knowledge I possess…"
The writing appeared sluggishly, as though its life force had been almost entirely drained.
Dumbledore paused for a moment, then closed his hand. A white feather quill materialised between his fingers, and he began to write on the diary's page.
"Long time no see, Tom. I never imagined I would encounter your younger self again."
As the ink sank into the diary and vanished, it carried with it a thread of Dumbledore's magic.
The instant it felt that presence, the diary pulled its already weakened soul signature inward, suppressing every trace.
It played dead for several minutes.
Then, apparently recognising that further resistance was pointless, a line of text crawled into view. The handwriting, usually elegant and precise, was noticeably rougher.
"Dumbledore!"
Dumbledore continued writing.
"It's me. Hard to believe, but you were only in your sixth year when you made this diary, weren't you? How brilliant you were then. The most outstanding student Hogwarts had ever seen."
Were. Once. Now, Hogwarts had a student who surpassed even Tom.
Dumbledore glanced up and found Leonardo sitting quietly, sipping his honey water, reaching for a Fizzing Whizbees.
This time, the diary was slow to respond.
"Whether I am outstanding is not for you to judge."
After that, the diary went still.
Dumbledore drew the Elder Wand. Faint light shimmered along its segmented length as he fed magic into the diary, slow and steady.
"Headmaster, when I was in Slytherin's legacy space, he used a word. Horcrux. Is that what this diary is?"
The moment Leonardo spoke, the flow of magic from Dumbledore's wand faltered for an instant.
"Horcrux!"
From the portraits lining the walls, several voices cried out at once, jolted from sleep.
"A Horcrux? A student created a Horcrux while still at school?"
The exclamation came from a former Headmistress of Ravenclaw, a bespectacled witch named Sharen. Her fine brows drew together, her gaze sharp with shock and outrage.
Sharen had studied countermeasures against Dark curses extensively. She understood all too well how vile Horcruxes were. The idea that a teenager could commit such an act was almost beyond comprehension.
"Horcrux? Is it something important? What's all this racket in the middle of the night?"
A snide voice cut in. Phineas Nigellus Black appeared in his frame, moustached and languid.
Most of the former Headmasters and Headmistresses knew nothing of Horcruxes. Even within the Dark Arts, the subject was exceedingly obscure, mentioned only in fragments across the oldest texts.
But Phineas's attitude grated all the same. Within seconds, a stern-faced, powerfully built man stormed into Phineas's portrait and locked an arm around his neck from behind, silencing him mid-sneer.
With Dexter Fortescue, the Gryffindor Headmaster, having choked Phineas unconscious, Sharen took the opportunity to explain.
"A Horcrux is a Dark magical object. A witch or wizard commits murder or another act of supreme evil to fracture their own soul, then seals a fragment of it inside an object. As long as the Horcrux remains intact, its creator cannot truly die."
As Sharen's explanation settled over the room, the expressions on every portrait changed. None of them had imagined a student would dare create something so abhorrent.
When Sharen finished describing the nature and creation of Horcruxes, the portraits fell into collective silence.
"I was wrong. I misjudged him. How could he…"
The speaker was Armando Dippet, Dumbledore's predecessor, who had witnessed Tom Riddle's years as a student.
Dippet appeared extremely aged in his portrait. He had already been well over three hundred when he served as Headmaster. Now his face was ashen, his eyes unfocused. He had not only failed to see Tom's true nature—he had admired him. That was an error he could not dismiss.
If Professor Dumbledore had not insisted on advising against it, Dippet might not have refused Tom's application to remain at Hogwarts after graduation. The consequences could have been far worse.
Dumbledore spoke gently to ease the old Headmaster's guilt.
"Armando, that is all in the past. We now have Tom's Horcrux. We can prevent him from doing further harm."
"Harm…" Dippet's voice cracked. "Albus, fifty years ago, the Chamber of Secrets. Tom was the one who supposedly stopped the crisis, but what if he orchestrated the entire thing? Did I wrongfully blame Rubeus Hagrid?"
Leonardo was mildly surprised that Dippet could recall Hagrid so quickly after all these years.
He remembered reading in a Hogwarts history that Dippet was described as a Headmaster of decisive action and strong sense of responsibility, one who handled incidents with thoroughness and care.
"Don't worry, Armando," Dumbledore reassured him. "I will see to Hagrid's case."
Leonardo listened in silence. With Hagrid's name cleared at last, the man would finally be able to use magic openly. He would no longer need to hide his wand inside that pink umbrella.
"The priority is the Horcrux," Dexter said, having returned to his own frame. His tone was grave. "We need to find a way to destroy it. Sharen, do you know how?"
Sharen rubbed her temple, thinking carefully before she spoke.
"Horcruxes carry powerful Dark magical protections. Ordinary methods cannot fully destroy them. The destructive force must be overwhelming, so great that the Horcrux cannot repair itself through its own Dark magic."
"The essence of a Horcrux is the soul fragment within. Magic that targets the soul would be most effective. The Killing Curse, Avada Kedavra, is likely the surest method. Fiendfyre might also work, given its unique properties."
After Sharen finished, Leonardo added, "During the fight, I accidentally got basilisk venom on the diary. Tom's spectral form became extremely unstable and was clearly in tremendous pain."
As he spoke, Leonardo produced a small vial from his pocket. Inside was a measure of basilisk venom.
Then he drew the Sword of Gryffindor and the Sorting Hat and placed both on the desk.
"The Sword of Gryffindor!"
Dexter Fortescue recognised the silver blade in an instant, and his eyes blazed with emotion. This was the treasure left by the founder of Gryffindor, a weapon that legend said would appear only to those who truly possessed Gryffindor's qualities, when they had need of it.
"Boy, you should have been in Gryffindor…"
Before Dexter could finish, a cutting voice interrupted him.
"Foolish lion. We are discussing Horcruxes. Is this really the time?"
Phineas, freshly recovered from being strangled and rubbing his neck, sneered at Dexter's lack of focus, apparently unconcerned about the possibility of another beating.
Dexter Fortescue fought down the urge to charge back into Phineas's frame for a round of free sparring. Instead, he fixed his burning gaze on the Sword of Gryffindor.
He had only ever seen this legendary artefact described in texts. The stories claimed it would appear to a true Gryffindor in times of need—but this was the first time he had seen it with his own eyes.
Dumbledore did not reach for the vial of basilisk venom. Instead, he picked up the Sword of Gryffindor.
"Leonardo, did you use this sword on the basilisk during the fight?"
Leonardo nodded. He suspected Dumbledore had already realised the sword's unique property.
Sure enough, Dumbledore drew the blade lightly across the diary's surface. A flash of white light followed. A thin gash opened in the cover, and pale black smoke seeped out, accompanied by faint wailing and high, thin shrieks.
"The Sword of Gryffindor absorbed the basilisk venom!" Dexter exclaimed, excitement pouring through every word as he explained.
"This sword was forged by goblins. Goblin-wrought blades absorb anything that strengthens them!"
"Go on, Albus. Use the sword. Cut that diary apart. Kill him!"
Several other portraits shared Morgan's view. They believed the Horcrux should be destroyed at once.
But Dumbledore did not strike. He considered for a moment, then spoke.
"This is a complete Horcrux. I may be able to use it to trace Voldemort's true self. A soul fragment and its creator must share a connection."
Dumbledore knew Voldemort was hiding somewhere in the world, but the world was vast. Searching for a single being, a disembodied soul at that, was like looking for a needle in the ocean.
With the Horcrux in hand, the task would become far more manageable.
Dumbledore believed this was the greatest "surprise" Leonardo had delivered tonight.
The Horcrux was surely Voldemort's ultimate safeguard. The sooner he understood his enemy's hand, the sooner he could plan a response.
"Headmaster, I have a question," Leonardo said. "Can a wizard create only one Horcrux?"
At those words, the joy in Dumbledore's eyes, the satisfaction of finally catching Voldemort's trail, gradually faded. In its place came deep thought and a gathering weight.
The portraits, which had been murmuring amongst themselves, fell silent as well.
Leonardo's question struck them as almost inconceivable, and yet none of them could dismiss it.
According to Sharen, the process of creating a Horcrux was agonising. It meant tearing the soul apart.
And tearing the soul could fundamentally alter one's nature, could make a person unrecognisable even to themselves. The very thought was horrifying.
Could anyone truly be that mad?
For the sake of survival, for the sake of immortality, could someone go that far?
But what if? Tom had dared to make a Horcrux while still a student. This was not a person who could be measured by ordinary standards.
Leonardo felt his "reminder" had landed where it needed to. This would push Dumbledore to recognise, sooner rather than later, that Voldemort might have created multiple Horcruxes. The hunt could begin earlier.
The sooner Voldemort was dealt with, the more tragedies could be prevented, and the less turmoil the wizarding world would endure.
Leonardo liked to study in peace. He had no desire to be disrupted by so-called forces of evil.
The Death Eaters could rot in Azkaban for the rest of their days, and Voldemort, once his Horcruxes were destroyed, could "graciously" meet his end.