"But how am I supposed to tell Ginny? She treasures that diary more than anything."
Harry spoke with some difficulty. "Honestly… I already feel bad enough about keeping Mr. Elijah's situation from her."
"But that was Mr. Elijah's request," Ron said earnestly. "And to be honest, even though Ginny's my sister, I completely understand him. If there were a girl talking in my ear twenty-four hours a day, I'd lose my mind too! And she still writes in that diary all the time."
"You two really don't understand how girls think." Hermione shook her head, looking unimpressed, then stood up. "I'll go. I can tell her I need to borrow it for studying."
With that, Hermione walked off.
Ron leaned toward Harry and whispered, "I bet she just wants to talk to Mr. Elijah herself."
"You should talk less." Harry nudged him with his elbow.
Lately, the tension between Ron and Hermione had been giving him a headache. Crookshanks—Hermione's cat—kept staring at Ron's Scabbers, and the two of them argued constantly because of it.
Harry would return from exhausting training only to be dragged straight into their disputes.
...
"Tonks, John, we need both of you to recount what happened."
Scrimgeour, Head of the Auror Office, arrived shortly after Tonks regained consciousness, with Fudge in tow. The moment he entered the ward, he spoke in a stern voice. "Mainly you, Tonks. I've already reviewed John Dolores's report."
"Now, now, no need to rush," Fudge stepped forward, tucking his green hat under his arm. "Professor Dumbledore is on his way. He'd like to hear the details as well, so let's wait for him."
Dumbledore was coming?
Although this was within Elijah's expectations, he still straightened slightly.
Only when facing that old man in person did one truly understand how terrifying he was. Those eyes seemed capable of seeing through everything, examining a person inside and out, as if even the deepest secrets of the heart were laid bare before him.
Especially since he had spent considerable time subduing the dragon. By the time the Aurors arrived, he hadn't had the chance to modify Tonks's memory.
A moment later, Dumbledore entered with light steps.
Tall, with a beard reaching his waist, he exuded wisdom and calm authority. Every movement seemed to carry a subtle, immeasurable power.
As soon as he entered, his gaze swept across the room. Though it only lingered for an instant, Elijah felt as if it paused on him.
For a brief moment, he even wondered if Dumbledore had already seen through everything.
Still, he kept his composure, speaking no more than John Dolores normally would.
At last, Dumbledore's attention settled on Tonks.
"How are you feeling, Tonks?" he asked kindly as he approached her bedside.
Elijah stood from one of the two chairs and offered it to him.
"Oh, thank you, John. It's good to see such consideration for an old man."
Dumbledore accepted the seat without hesitation and sat down.
"I'm fine, Professor Dumbledore," Tonks replied, shaking her head.
"It's nothing serious," Moody added, glancing briefly at Scrimgeour before addressing Dumbledore. "Same as those Aurors who were stunned at the Ministry. Just took some time for the healers to break the curse."
Dumbledore nodded, a faint smile on his face.
The more he observed, the more he felt that Elijah was not the same as Tom Riddle.
At Hogwarts, Elijah might have refrained from killing out of caution. But outside, even with fewer restraints, his actions remained inconsistent. He had only eliminated a group of Dark Wizards—and nothing more.
That, in itself, was strange.
Still, one question lingered.
Why had Elijah appeared on the Scottish coast?
"Miss Tonks," Dumbledore said gently, "could you tell me what you saw?"
Tonks glanced at Elijah, then nodded.
"John and I were staking out the Hog's Head Inn, but then he… probably got bored and started going to the Three Broomsticks every day to flirt with the landlady."
Elijah: ???
When had he ever flirted with Madam Rosmerta?
Feeling every gaze in the room shift toward him—especially Tonks's rather satisfied expression—Elijah knew he needed to respond.
"Haha, understandable. Madam Rosmerta is indeed quite beautiful," Dumbledore said with a knowing smile.
"Is that so, John Dolores?" Moody asked sharply.
One hand was already gripping his walking stick, as if ready to cast a spell at any moment.
Scrimgeour said nothing, but his expression remained grave.
A Metamorphmagus of Tonks's talent was a rare asset. Moody had personally taken her on for that reason.
"Of course not," Elijah replied immediately. "From the beginning, I suspected the goblins and Dark Wizards would be highly vigilant. Unlike Tonks, if I appeared in the same place every day, it would draw suspicion. You all know I'm not skilled at Transfiguration."
"And in fact, I never truly left. I was following Tonks the entire time, concealed. Otherwise, how could I have saved her?"
"You were following me?" Tonks asked in surprise.
"Then how do you explain this?" Moody pressed. "The bartender at the Hog's Head said you only returned in the evening."
At that, Fudge nodded quickly. "Yes, it was the bartender who contacted the Ministry. He said one Auror had gone missing, and the other hadn't shown up for quite some time."
Dumbledore watched silently, his eyes gleaming with quiet interest.
Elijah remained calm.
"That's exactly the issue. That afternoon, I didn't go anywhere. I remained concealed the entire time. You can verify that with any shop owner in Hogsmeade."
In truth, he hadn't visited any shops. He had been at the Shrieking Shack—an alibi he could rely on.
"Later, I discovered Tonks had followed a Dark Wizard alone, so I pursued her in secret. As for the 'me' who appeared in the evening…" Elijah paused slightly. "I believe that explains why Tom Riddle showed up on the Scottish coast."
"You're saying the 'you' seen at the Hog's Head was actually Tom Riddle in disguise?" Dumbledore asked softly.
"I'm afraid so."
"Things seem clear now."
Dumbledore placed a slight emphasis on the word seem, but Fudge's expression darkened.
"Wait, wait!" He shook the flesh on his face and turned urgently to Elijah. "According to you, Tom Riddle has been in Hogsmeade this entire time?"
"I'm afraid so."
Elijah nodded calmly, but his answer immediately set Fudge off.
"That's impossible!" Fudge practically shrieked. "Dementors patrol Hogsmeade twice a day—TWICE! Do you understand? Whether it's Sirius Black or Tom Riddle, if they show up there, they'll be caught immediately!"
"Cornelius, it appears the Dementors are unable to track them," Dumbledore said mildly. "Sirius Black and Tom Riddle both escaped from Azkaban. Clearly, they have a way of evading Dementors. At the very least, they should not be anywhere near Hogwarts now."
"But… but, Albus—if that's the case, who's going to capture those two dangerous fugitives?" Fudge's tone softened, though he remained unwilling to concede.
Dumbledore had always maintained that the Azkaban guards were unreliable.
But for someone like Fudge, whose rise to Minister had always felt like luck, stability mattered above all else. Change, especially the kind that might bring trouble, was something he instinctively resisted.
They did not pursue the argument further. Instead, Tonks continued.
"After that, I was knocked unconscious. When I woke up, those Dark Wizards and Goblins were preparing to sacrifice me. That's when Tom Riddle appeared. He suppressed the Dark Wizards without casting a spell, and he made me faint without using a wand. But what's certain is that the Goblins wanted wands, the Dark Wizards were after Ancient Magic, and Tom Riddle was also interested in Ancient Magic."
Dumbledore nodded slowly, his blue eyes turning toward 'John' with quiet meaning.
"It seems his magical power has grown stronger since last time."
"I didn't expect Ancient Magic to be hidden in a place like that," Moody muttered. "But is it really that powerful?"
Dumbledore considered for a moment.
"It is difficult to say, but there are indeed many forms of Ancient Magic with immense destructive capability."
Magic was not like technology. Technology advanced continuously, building upon itself over time.
Magic, however, could vanish with the death of a wizard. Even if recorded, it depended on the caster's power and understanding. Many powerful spells had been lost simply because no one remained capable of using them.
With the decline of large-scale wars in the wizarding world, destructive curses had gradually fallen out of use. Most modern spells were designed for daily life. Perhaps, in the distant future, even curses like Fiendfyre or the Killing Curse would be regarded as "Ancient Magic."
Dumbledore was not surprised that Tom Riddle pursued it. After all, more than ten years ago, he himself had been defeated by an Ancient Magic known as "love."
"Ancient Magic is indeed formidable," Fudge added. "In fact, the Department of Mysteries contains a chamber that seals such magic. If I recall correctly, Harry Potter's mother, Lily Potter, worked there as an Unspeakable for a time, didn't she?"
Lily Potter had been an Unspeakable?
A flicker of surprise passed through Elijah's eyes.
"That's correct," Dumbledore said. "At the time, she had not yet married James and was conducting research in the Department of Mysteries. Later, as Voldemort and the Death Eaters grew more active, she joined the Aurors and fought alongside the Order of the Phoenix."
"You mean that locked chamber—the one filled with 'love'?" Elijah asked before he could stop himself. The last time he had visited the Department of Mysteries, he had avoided forcing open certain sealed rooms.
A lock meant danger.
"Yes." Dumbledore looked directly at him. "And it would seem her research bore fruit."
Fudge immediately grew excited.
"Then did she leave behind anything—"
"Cough."
Scrimgeour cut him off with a sharp cough, his expression as immovable as stone.
"I don't believe the Department of Mysteries' work should be discussed in a place like this."
"Ah—yes, yes." Fudge wiped his forehead awkwardly with a handkerchief.
The conversation ended there, but the idea lingered in Elijah's mind.
Lily Potter had studied Ancient Magic—and used it to defeat Voldemort.
If she had left behind any records…
Elijah's thoughts raced as he cast a subtle glance at Dumbledore. The old man was smiling at him.
His heart tightened.
A bait.
Dumbledore had deliberately mentioned Ancient Magic, waiting for him to react.
Which meant..
Did Dumbledore already know he wasn't John Dolores?