Chapter 124: Wand Core, the Changes in the Diary

Tom Riddle never imagined that, even after becoming a Horcrux, he could still be threatened.

He also couldn’t understand what had happened in these fifty years—why a second-year wizard had already mastered the Patronus Charm.

Tom Riddle had no idea that the unicorn attacking him was, like himself, a being of soul essence.

After seeing the creature fly and glow, Riddle assumed it was a uniquely shaped Patronus.

But this only made Riddle more insane.

He couldn’t accept that a spell he hadn’t learned until fifth year had been effortlessly mastered by a second-year student.

He glared venomously at Silven. “What a pity—the Basilisk didn’t kill you!”

“So the Basilisk was also under your command?” Silven asked.

“Of course it was—I am the Heir of Slytherin!” He suddenly grew agitated. “You impostor—you could never open the Chamber, never control the Basilisk. Only I can!”

He must have read the newspapers… or perhaps Draco told him what was written in them.

He was furious that Silven had publicly claimed to be the Heir of Slytherin—this was a major reason Draco returned to school ahead of schedule.

Normally, the arrogant Riddle would never have believed Silven could open the Chamber; after all, if he could, he would’ve acted long ago.

But Silven’s public claim to be the Heir of Slytherin was unbearable to Riddle—it was his most prized identity, and he would never let anyone steal it.

Silven ignored Riddle’s futile rage and recalled the scene again. “But how did you know I’d be on the eighth-floor corridor at that exact moment? The Basilisk is too large to remain exposed all the time.”

“Oh, this is quite interesting,” Riddle suddenly laughed. “Actually, the Basilisk’s original target wasn’t you—it was someone else.”

“Who?”

“A boy named Wei Silai,” Riddle said, recalling the words Draco had written in the diary. “Damn Wei Silai—he made me eat slug slime and turned me into a joke across the whole school. I’ll kill him, Tom—can you help me kill him?”

“He was furious—his thirst for revenge drowned his reason. That’s exactly what I wanted to see,” Riddle continued. “That day, I tried to control Draco for the first time, making him go to the Chamber in my place and awaken the Basilisk.”

“In return, I would have the Basilisk petrify the boy—give him his revenge.”

“Of course, I wouldn’t kill him. If a student died, Hogwarts would shut down—and that’s not what I want. Not until I’ve achieved my goal.”

“What goal?” Silven asked.

“Of course—to use the Basilisk to kill you,” Riddle said, staring at Silven with a cold, sinister gaze. “When I saw you walk out of the underground classroom that day, do you know how delighted I was?”

“But I’m still alive,” Silven said calmly. “Are you disappointed?”

“Yes, you got lucky—the Basilisk can’t find things it has cursed,” Riddle said regretfully.

“Maybe it wasn’t just luck,” Silven smiled. “Tell me about the Chamber’s entrance—was that note left by you?”

“Yes, it was me,” Riddle’s body grew fainter, his voice quieter, as if echoing from across the room.

“I guessed right, didn’t I?” Riddle said smugly. “You’re a seer with prophetic talent.”

“Wrong—completely wrong,” Silven said dismissively. “Just as absurd as mistaking me for Harry.”

But Riddle remained confident.

“You can’t fool me,” his body had turned a dull brown-gray. “From our first meeting, I sensed you desperately wanted the diary—but you were wary of me.”

“But that’s impossible—I’m a Horcrux…”

Riddle’s tone suddenly changed, as if something choked his throat. After a pause, he continued:

“After being brought to Hogwarts, I kept asking myself one question: Before you, the diary had never been opened. So why would you be wary of me?”

“Then I thought of another man—a natural seer who saw the future and planned to unite wizards and rule over Muggles.”

“So I wondered—could you also see the future?” Riddle’s face lit up with a smug smile again. “You saw me coming to Hogwarts. You saw everything I did—and you knew I succeeded.”

“That’s why you knew me, feared me, and tried to destroy me before it all began.”

Silven said nothing.

In a way, Riddle was right—he had indeed wanted to crush him at the very start.

Noticing the change in Silven’s expression, Riddle grew even more triumphant. He excelled at reading minds through expressions and eyes—and the fleeting flicker in Silven’s gaze confirmed he was right.

Riddle laughed for the first time—a cold, piercing, mocking sound.

“You can’t succeed. Do you know why? Because that man failed too.”

“You place too much faith in prophecies, never realizing the future is already fixed. When you try to change it, you only push events toward that inevitable end.”

“Grindelwald’s plan was ruined by self-righteous wizards—and after that, Hogwarts was flooded with Mudbloods.”

“So you will fail too. And everything I intend to do… will come to pass!” Riddle went mad, his body flickering like a faulty television screen.

Silven frowned, preparing to let the unicorn show Riddle his true situation—he was already in Silven’s grasp, how dare he still be so arrogant?

But this time, the unicorn passed straight through his body.

The diary on the ground changed rapidly—threads of gray mist seeped out, and the remaining pages began to wrinkle and dry up.

As the mist peeled away, Riddle let out piercing screams, as if enduring unbearable agony.

Silven didn’t know whether a soul fragment bound as a Horcrux could ever detach again—but Riddle was demonstrating it right before his eyes.

Yet from his screams and the madness in his eyes, it was clear the cost was immense—perhaps two-thirds of his soul, or more.

Silven instinctively wanted to stop it—but Riddle was in a peculiar state now, even the unicorn’s soul could not reach him.

Silven knew no other soul-targeting magic. In desperation, he instinctively thought of another Voldemort and grabbed the diary on the ground… instantly, the golden magical runes on his wrist began to glow faintly.

In that instant, Riddle’s screams grew louder.

If before it was a saw tearing his soul, now it was as if a blazing furnace had been added.

It worked!

Silven’s eyes brightened.

He couldn’t directly turn Riddle’s soul into a wand core—Riddle hadn’t yet performed dangerous dark magic experiments; his soul was still pure. Silven’s magic and instincts fiercely resisted the idea.

But the separated portion was completely unaffected.

So Silven made his decision—he turned the diary into a wand shaft and immediately forged a core to amplify its power.

Though the diary wasn’t a wand shaft, lacked matching runes, and couldn’t fuse with a core, borrowing its power briefly was still possible.

Instantly, the gray mist thickened.

If before Riddle needed to sacrifice half his soul to escape the Horcrux, now—with Silven’s help—he’d have to leave behind at least two-thirds.

In midair, a grotesque monster shrieked and writhed; below it, the diary emitted gray mist like a ravenous beast, devouring everything from the creature.

At some point, the unconscious Draco slowly woke—but seeing this, he screamed, rolled his eyes back, and collapsed again.

A faint tearing sound drifted through the air.

It was the diary. After Riddle decided to extract his soul, it was no longer a true Horcrux—its pages grew fragile, its cover cracked.

But then, a gray, rope-like strand appeared along the cracks, repairing them completely.

If Harry and Ron were here, they’d recognize it immediately—it was what a wand core looked like after being crafted.

They’d seen it before—except then, Silven had used the heart-nerve of a red hat, which was red. This one was gray.

More cracks appeared, and the gray wand core kept seeping into every gap.

Finally, Riddle tore himself completely free from the diary.

He looked monstrous—no trace of his former self remained. He resembled a haphazardly piled snowman, faceless, his body twisted and unnatural.

He ran—filled with hatred and resentment—fleeing from the room.

Silven didn’t chase him. Instead, he focused on controlling the wand core inside the diary, guiding it into every crevice.

In his other hand, he held his wand, drawing complex runes with his magic.

Golden symbols surfaced on the pages, then vanished—but the wrinkled areas smoothed out again.

At the same time, the diary’s feeling to Silven changed—he had the instinct of a wandmaker… he might have accidentally created something extraordinary.

The feeling was so strong that Silven paid no attention to Riddle’s escape—his entire focus was on the diary before him.

(End of Chapter)