"Hello, Tom."
"Hello, Harry."
Under Dumbledore's watchful gaze, a line of warm handwriting slowly appeared across the surface of the old diary.
"Looks like he's starting to trust you?" Dumbledore raised an eyebrow.
"No. He's cautious—painfully cautious. Until he's absolutely certain he's in control, he'll never show his true self." Charles shook his head.
In the past few days, Charles had learned a lot about Tom Riddle. The boy was a master of disguise—every gesture, every word polished to perfection.So perfect, in fact, it was unnatural.
That kind of false perfection might fool children who didn't know better—or even teachers, perhaps.But not Charles.Not when he already knew exactly what kind of person Tom Riddle was.
"How has your day been?"
"You haven't written to me for days."
Inside the diary, Tom's tone carried a trace of exasperation. He had originally planned to win Charles's trust, then gradually siphon away his life force to take control—or even resurrect himself.But Charles was far more guarded than he had imagined.
His plans hadn't progressed at all.And for now, all Tom could do was play the role of a patient, understanding "friend."
Fortunately, as a Horcrux, he had all the time in the world.
"I've just been busy lately—preparing for a tournament."
"A tournament? Quidditch?"
"What's that? I meant the Pokémon League."Charles was determined to keep his cover intact.
For now, he was just a Pokémon Trainer who didn't use magic.Naturally, he had no idea what "Quidditch" was.
"Quidditch is a wizarding sport. Players ride broomsticks and fly through the air," Tom said, a touch of pride creeping into his words.
He'd never liked Quidditch back in school—not because he disliked flying, but because, as a half-blood who hadn't grown up in the magical world, he always felt a bit inferior to the pure-bloods who'd played it since childhood.That feeling of inferiority was long gone now, replaced by smug confidence in his magical power.
But Charles wasn't having any of it.
"Flying on broomsticks? Are all wizards that stupid? I mean—riding a flying carpet would make way more sense! Don't your legs go numb sitting on a stick all day?"
Tom: "…"
"Actually, brooms are enchanted to make them quite comfortable," Dumbledore interjected with a chuckle.
He wasn't sure if Charles genuinely thought broomsticks were ridiculous—or if he was just trying to provoke Tom Riddle.
"You think that's stupid? Then how do you people travel?" Tom shot back, a little defensive. "I suppose you just walk everywhere—or ride horses like in the old days?"
"We have cars. Airplanes. And of course, riding Pokémon. A Dragonite can fly from England to America and back in a few hours. Can your broomsticks do that?"
Tom fell silent.
Even compared to the rockets that wouldn't exist for another fifty years, a Dragonite's flight speed would put any broom to shame.
"What's wrong? Cat got your tongue? Maybe your magic isn't as great as you think."
What could he say?It wasn't that he didn't want to respond—he just couldn't refute it.Tom seethed. Magic was supposed to be proof of his superiority, his right to control others.And now, this boy was trampling that belief with effortless disdain.
Still, he didn't dare anger Charles. So he wisely changed the subject.
"You mentioned a tournament. What kind of competition is it? Pokémon battles?"
"Obviously." Charles wrote nonchalantly. "I already beat Steven. My next opponent is Cynthia—her Garchomp is terrifying. I'm still figuring out a strategy."
As Dumbledore read along, he helped himself to the dessert Mr. Mime had just served."Thank you," he said, picking up a small pink cake. One bite—and his eyes lit up.
"Marvelous! Perfectly sweet, soft, and gentle on the teeth—ideal for an old man like me."
"That's made from Pecha Berries. Handmade pastry. If you like it, you can take a few with you," Charles said without looking up.
He was generous—but Dumbledore wasn't about to take any home.He'd already devoured them all before the thought even crossed his mind.Crumbs clung to his beard, unnoticed.
"I must say," Dumbledore smiled, "your culinary skills—and your Pokémon's—far surpass Aberforth's."
He thought back to the rare days he'd spent with his brother.Aberforth's cooking always looked like… something unidentifiable.Still, Dumbledore had learned not to complain.If Aberforth hadn't poisoned him, that was affection enough.
So many had called him a great wizard.
But in truth?He was just an old man who'd failed to care for his own family—perhaps even the cause of many of its tragedies.
But Dumbledore didn't linger on that sadness for long.He turned his attention back to Charles's writing.
"Help me win the tournament? You?"Charles's words dripped with sarcasm, and Tom felt the sting.
If he had a body right now, he'd have already cast Avada Kedavra.
But he didn't.
So he endured.
About thirty seconds passed before new writing appeared on the page—proof that Tom had needed time to calm himself.
Even Dumbledore felt a pang of sympathy for him.The boy didn't even realize his disguise had been seen through from the start—and was still swallowing his pride to keep up the act.
"I can learn!"
"Maybe I don't understand Pokémon yet," Tom wrote confidently, "but I can learn. Knowledge may differ between our worlds, but intelligence is the same."
Truth be told, learning battle strategy wouldn't be hard for him at all.
"Besides," Tom added, "I can help analyze your opponents' tactics. All I need is a bit of your memory."
Ah. There it was—the real goal.Extracting Charles's memories had been part of Tom's plan all along.
Know yourself and know your enemy, and you will never lose.And considering that, after resurrection, he might not regain a wand, using Pokémon as weapons didn't sound like a bad contingency plan.
"Well…"
"What's wrong? Afraid? I'm just a memory."
"I'll have to ask Headmaster Dumbledore for his opinion first. You're not from our world, after all."
"Show Dumbledore? N-no, that won't be necessary…" Tom stammered.
Just hearing the name unsettled him. He'd deceived every teacher he'd ever met—but Dumbledore had never been fooled.
"What's wrong? Nervous? Don't tell me you're afraid of Dumbledore," Charles asked sharply.
Tom reacted instantly.
"Actually… yes. In my world, Dumbledore is an evil wizard—he ruled the wizarding world through fear for years."
Dumbledore: "???"
Oh no…I've become Voldemort?!
(End of Chapter)