Dumbledore's office always smelled faintly of lemon drops and old parchment, a comforting mixture that reminded me of libraries, secrets, and men who knew far more than they ever said aloud. The stone gargoyle slid aside at my password, and I climbed the spiral staircase, the soft whirring of hidden mechanisms following me upward like a patient sigh.
The door opened on its own, as if expecting me. Dumbledore was already there, seated behind his desk, hands folded loosely atop a stack of papers that looked far too orderly to be innocent. Fawkes rustled on his perch, feathers glowing softly in the morning light filtering through the tall windows. The phoenix let out a low, melodic trill, the sound warm and oddly reassuring.
Without a word, Dumbledore waved his wand, conjuring a porcelain teapot, two delicate cups, and a plate of pastries that still gave off faint curls of steam. The scent of honey and butter filled the room.
I sat, accepting the cup he poured for me. The syrupy tea was just hot enough to bite at my tongue, soothing a moment later as the flavor settled.
We drank in silence for a few moments, the kind that felt deliberate rather than awkward. Finally, Dumbledore lifted his gaze to me over the rim of his half-moon spectacles.
"So," he said mildly, "what brings you here this morning, Gilderoy?"
I set my cup down carefully. "I spoke with Miss Lovegood," I began, recounting the conversation in the courtyard. I explained how the diary had come into her possession, how it had written back, and how it had vanished after being left in the second-floor girls' bathroom. As I spoke, Dumbledore listened without interrupting, fingers steepled beneath his beard, blue eyes sharp and thoughtful.
When I finished, he rubbed his beard slowly, staring into the depths of his tea as if it might offer commentary. "I see," he murmured. Then he shook his head, just once. "I am afraid that information may not be of much practical use to us now."
I slumped back slightly in my chair, letting out a breath. "I thought as much," I admitted. "Still, it didn't cost anything to try."
"Quite," Dumbledore said gently.
Then his expression shifted. The warmth remained, but something heavier settled behind his eyes. He leaned back and folded his hands.
"I recently checked both the Riddle Manor and the Gaunt family shack," he continued. "As you suspected, I found traces of a Horcrux at the Gaunt residence. Unfortunately, I was too late."
My fingers tightened around my cup. "Gone," I muttered.
"Yes," Dumbledore said. "The protections were intact. Undisturbed. Which leads me to believe it was retrieved deliberately, not stolen."
I let out a quiet curse under my breath. "My money's on Tom," I said. "Voldemort himself is still too weak to risk exposure. And after all these years of neglect, I doubt he'd suddenly decide to personally collect his soul jars."
Dumbledore's lips twitched faintly. "Your conclusion mirrors my own."
"Great minds think alike," I said, managing a grin.
He chuckled softly, the sound light but brief. Then, after a pause, he tilted his head. "And how is your training with Gellert progressing?"
I very nearly winced. "Brutal," I said honestly. "Utterly merciless. But… effective." I rolled my shoulders, feeling phantom aches that had no business lingering. "My control has improved. My understanding too. Not just the Dark Arts. Everything." I hesitated, then added, "Which brings me to a question. When were you planning to teach me?"
Dumbledore considered this, tapping one finger against the arm of his chair. The ticking of a nearby instrument filled the brief silence. "My schedule is regrettably full," he said at last. "However, I could perhaps free some time on Monday mornings. Would that suit you?"
I straightened immediately. "Perfectly."
"Good," he said, smiling.
I stood, smoothing my robes. "Then that will be everything for now." I met his gaze. "I look forward to our lessons."
"As do I, Gilderoy," Dumbledore replied.
"Oh, by the way, maybe you could check up on Miss Bellatrix Lestrange, if there's someone Voldemort might have entrusted with the protection of a piece of his soul, it's her."
Dumbledore paused in thought, "Yes, you are correct. I will see what I can do."
I turned and headed for the door, the quiet hum of the office closing around me once more as I descended the stairs, my mind already racing ahead to Mondays, to lessons, and to whatever Tom Riddle thought he was clever enough to hide.
But the fact he'd started retrieving his Horcruxes complicated things.
At least I know he won't be finding Salazar's locket any time soon without any clues. But Helga's cup in Bellatrix's vault is another matter, let's just hope Dumbledore gets to it first.
…
(Tom Riddle)
The ritual circle faded slowly.
The last sigil burned itself out with a hiss, red lines sinking back into cold stone as if the floor itself were drinking them in. The air smelled of iron, ash, and old magic, thick enough to taste at the back of my throat. I stood perfectly still at the center, breathing carefully, feeling the final echoes of the spell ripple through my body.
Then it happened.
Power settled into me.
Not explosively, not like fire, but like something long misplaced finally clicking back into its proper position. My magic deepened, widened, as if a constriction had been loosened. Thoughts sharpened. Sensations clarified. Even the darkness around me seemed more obedient, less resistant to my presence.
The ring lay on a stone altar a few steps away.
I did not touch it.
I had been careful from the beginning. Extraordinarily so.
The moment I had uncovered it in the Gaunt shack, half-buried beneath rot and filth, I had felt it. A curse of exceptional potency, layered so deeply into the metal that it might as well have been part of the gold itself. Old, violent, and hungry.
I had handled it only with spells, levitation charms and containment wards, never skin to surface. Instinct had warned me long before reason caught up.
Now, with the soul fragment absorbed, I finally understood why.
Knowledge flooded in after the power, a delayed reward, memories and understanding that were not mine yesterday but were unquestionably mine now. I staggered slightly, one hand bracing against the altar as years of learning slammed into my mind.
The curse.
An ancient withering curse.
Not crude. Not obvious. The sort that did not kill quickly, but rotted its victim from the inside out, turning flesh against itself, magic against bone. Worse, there was no true counter-curse, only mitigation, only delay.
Had I touched the ring…
I exhaled slowly.
Caution, it seemed, had saved me from my own cleverness.
Still, the knowledge I received was limited. Disappointingly so. Only a few years' worth, a narrow slice of my future self's accomplishments. This Horcrux had been one of my earliest efforts, created not long after the diary. Back when I was still refining the process, still learning what could be gained and what would be lost.
Even so, it was more than enough.
I straightened, rolling my shoulders as magic thrummed beneath my skin, richer and more responsive than before. I could feel the difference immediately. Spells came more easily to mind, connections forming faster, deeper. Concepts that had once required effort now felt obvious.
And there was more.
Memories surfaced unbidden.
Hogwarts.
The Grey Lady.
Helena Ravenclaw.
I frowned slightly as the realization settled in.
Of course.
After the diary. After I learned what ghosts could be pressed into revealing if one was patient enough, charming enough, ruthless enough. I had spoken to her. Gained her trust. Let her believe I was simply another student fascinated by history and lost relics.
And in turn she had revealed the location of her mother's lost diadem.
And knowing myself, knowing the ambition that burned in me even then, there was only one possible conclusion.
I would not have left such an artifact untouched.
No.
I would have turned it into a Horcrux.
The thought sent a thrill through me.
Another anchor. Another safeguard. Another piece of myself waiting to be reclaimed.
I paced slowly around the chamber, boots echoing softly against the stone, mind already racing ahead. The Horcrux in the cave was gone, whatever it had been, but the diadem… the diadem was still out there somewhere. Hidden, perhaps well-hidden, but not lost to me forever.
Nothing ever truly was.
I allowed myself a thin smile.
Power reclaimed. Knowledge restored. And more waiting to be found.
Let Dumbledore chase shadows and remnants.
I was rebuilding myself piece by piece.
And this time, I would not make the same mistakes.
…