Chapter 32
"So this is what you are like... Tom Marvolo Riddle's diary," I drawled thoughtfully, touching the open notebook in its rather high-quality binding with some apprehension... After which I immediately yanked my hand back, once again convinced that I shouldn't just touch this nasty thing so easily!
If closed, it differed almost in no way from a regular notebook, except perhaps for some preservation charms placed on it, but right now... As soon as I opened someone else's diary, the vile magic and unpleasant attention from the living artifact instantly made me shudder nervously. Even the hair on the back of my neck seemed to stand on end, so distinct and real were the sensations from my magical sensitivity this time.
"I feel like I'm sitting in front of a rabid dog that is just itching to bite off a juicy piece of me," I bared my teeth slightly nervously, feeling perfectly well how, upon direct contact with the notebook, it had managed to take a drop of magic from me. Just a tiny bit—such an amount wouldn't even be enough for a Lumos, but... it's still unpleasant. After all, I had only touched this diary for a moment, and already there was such an effect.
If one uses it quite often and for any prolonged periods—one could probably even earn magical exhaustion... Which is somewhat strange, because I didn't seem to observe such problems with Ginny. And yet, in terms of magic, the youngest Weasley is inferior to me about... thirteen to fifteen times? It's hard to say more precisely, because magical reserves are not exactly a very stable thing.
It's like with stamina. More in the morning, less in the evening; one day on a wave of good mood or enthusiasm there might be more magic in the body—or it will be more clearly felt in my perception—and on another day—noticeably less. But even so, Ginny's reserves of strength from the very beginning of our acquaintance were not what you would call impressive.
"But at the same time, she managed spells quite well, and in general, the girl had no problems with spells that were not entirely simple even for first-years..." I squinted thoughtfully, beginning to hypnotize someone else's horcrux with even greater suspicion. Could it be that it was precisely because of this very notebook that Ginny felt even weaker magically to me than Ron Weasley?
A difficult question, the answer to which I couldn't find so easily, but I fully admitted that such a thing was indeed possible. Not very likely—because Ginny, from her very first day at Hogwarts, didn't impress with the saturation of magic radiating from her, but...
If you remember that she arrived at the castle already with this nasty thing and quite possibly used it even at home—even if I didn't see how and when Lucius could have slipped the horcrux to her—then perhaps the girl really isn't as weak as it might seem to me. After all, when a dark artifact is constantly siphoning magic from you, radiating that same magic outward must be quite problematic.
"In short, to hell with it..." I summed up my reflections, abandoning the idea of exchanging a couple of words with this nasty thing. The risk that Voldemort's horcrux could somehow harm me is too great. And I'm not so confident in my mental defenses to test them on such dangerous muck. I'd better hurry and hand over someone else's diary to Professor Flitwick.
Because curiosity is curiosity, but risking my magic for the opportunity to finally verify that the notebook that fell into my hands really is the horcrux of that dark wizard is not a very sound idea. And even the additional argument in the form of an opportunity to better understand my "fateful adversary" doesn't exactly add to my enthusiasm...
Which even sounds somewhat cowardly, but last year and the encounter with the possessed Quirrell showed painfully well that I cannot cope with some problems right now. And therefore... it's better to be a living coward than a brave corpse. Especially since I am not a Gryffindor at all, but quite a nerdy Ravenclaw. And as a proper raven—I prefer not to risk my own hide in vain.
"Although I want to destroy you, of course, just terribly..." I clicked my tongue irritably in my own mind, glancing sideways at the thrice-cursed notebook... And ultimately deciding to at least try to deal with it personally.
I had not a penny of faith in the Hogwarts teachers, and certainly not in the Headmaster of this glorious educational institution. All of them, with the exception, perhaps, of McGonagall who dealt with Quirrell, proved their impressive incompetence last year. So glaring that I have almost no doubt that none of them will rush to destroy someone else's horcrux right away like that.
Alas—but to be honest, I was almost certainly sure of the opposite... that no one would even think about destroying the horcrux, at best starting to study it, and at worst—tossing it somewhere in a far corner like just another not particularly legal counterfeit made by their students.
Which in this case was simply unacceptable, but the only way to destroy someone else's horcrux that still came to my mind right now... well, let's just say, I had no extra problems introducing Voldemort's diary to red-hot coals, the likes of which cannot be found in the enchanted fireplace located in our common room, using Transfiguration and a couple of spells I'd learned.
Another thing is that the fire and red-hot coals, in which even metal would most likely heat up to red-hot, did not harm someone else's notebook in any way. The accursed horcrux didn't even have its cover or outer pages singed! The artifact looked as good as new, cleanly ignoring all my efforts to destroy it... And I harbored no hopes that a more prolonged exposure would help break through this defense. Especially since I couldn't really burn the horcrux in the fire for a long time.
I hadn't reached permanent Transfiguration yet, which is why the furnace I created simply couldn't exist for more than two or three hours. I also didn't know how to completely negate the smoke coming from the fire, constantly using an air-purifying spell, which was even more difficult to maintain than creating a sufficiently durable Transfiguration... Under such circumstances, I could try to burn the horcrux for at best two and a half hours.
Which I already tried to do, without achieving any significant success and once again convinced of my relative helplessness... I didn't have any other ideas on how to destroy such a high-quality artifact either. Well, you can't count my attempts to test my entire available magical arsenal on this blasted diary as serious ideas, can you? It didn't have any effect anyway.
"Rather the opposite... After all these attempts, the horcrux, it seems, began to go on the offensive itself," I winced mentally, sometimes catching myself feeling that someone was trying to break through my magical shields and defenses. The attempts were very delicate and cautious, but... that only made it scarier!
After all, from books on Occlumency I already knew how a rough and forceful violation of my mental boundaries should feel and what to do in such a situation... With more cunning and subtle attempts at influence, it was many times more difficult! They are often very hard to even notice, and as for a direct confrontation... the most reliable way would be to simply get rid of the possible source of danger. Well, or rely on your own defense, will, and attentiveness.
Fortunately, unlike a direct and rough intrusion into the mind, careful scanning does not have special power—even a sufficiently strong burst of emotions can, if not dispel it, then seriously weaken it. In a situation where you yourself are ready for an invasion, keep your "shields" at the ready, monitor the situation and your state, and are also filled with determination and will to protect your mind... Careful scanning becomes not particularly effective. More precisely—not effective at all.
In mental duels, after all, it is used more like a metaphorical dagger plunged into the back through the effect of surprise and stealth. If this move doesn't work, more obvious and powerful attacks usually come into play—metaphorical swords, axes, and halberds designed to hack a path for the mentalist through someone else's defense. As far as I knew—this is exactly how mental duels between two trained mages usually happen.
First, attempts to quietly break through someone else's defense—and then a powerful frontal blow, which will follow in any case—regardless of whether the damage from the "dagger" went through or not... Only for some reason Voldemort's horcrux was in no hurry to move on to the main attack. Either it lacked the strength for this, or I simply don't understand something and am already one step away from becoming a living puppet of dark magic... Thinking about this was pointless in any case. Especially since I wasn't going to take the risk either way...
I ultimately even discarded the thought of hiding the horcrux somewhere right next to the diadem I had yet to find. I already knew where the "Room of Requirement" was, but I had a very faint idea of how it worked. And it's far from a given that I'm the only one so smart and knowledgeable in this castle.
Which is why, even leaving aside my reluctance to leave two horcruxes in relative proximity to each other at once... I was afraid to hide someone else's diary in the Room of Requirement. Who knows who might find it, even just by chance? After all, I'm not a dark lord to reliably hide such a thing almost in plain sight.
So I could only have one way out in this situation. Even if I didn't like it very much...
"Mr. Potter? Do you have some business with me?" the short half-goblin smiled good-naturedly and affably, having let me into his office a moment earlier, where I came almost immediately after classes.
"Professor, I come to you with a small but very serious problem," I nodded to Flitwick, mentally feeling considerable discomfort and nervousness, but still approaching the professor's desk and taking out the blasted horcrux from my bag, which I had previously wrapped in a thick dragon-hide cloak—I specifically borrowed it from one of the older students who is deeply engaged in Herbology.
"Is this... some kind of diary?" the professor looked at me seriously, carefully opening my improvised bundle and beginning to hastily wave his wand over the item I had brought. "A dark artifact!"
"Yes, Professor... I completely accidentally took it from an acquaintance of mine and at first didn't even realize what it was, but... I have, let's say, good sensitivity. I, like... can feel attention directed at me, or something like that," I began to explain awkwardly, on the one hand truly not knowing how best to describe all this, and on the other—playing the role of a student slightly stupefied by someone else's mental magic.
"You can feel someone else's attention? A very... unusual ability, but not exactly completely unique," the half-goblin believed me surprisingly easily, at the same time giving a trusting nod, as if thanking me for the trust I showed... "Did this ability help you notice that something was wrong with the diary?"
"Yes... yes, that's right. I felt some strange attention from the artifact, and then... upon touching it, some kind of exhaustion seemed to pile onto me, my soul grew uneasy, and the thoughts in my head began to tangle..." I began my story, with each of my words making the professor frown harder and wave his wand over the horcrux more actively. At some point, he even started casting spells aloud, not being shy of me at all.
"Why didn't you come to me immediately, Mr. Potter?" having listened to the main symptoms, which I somewhat exaggerated in my story but still managed to experience myself, Filius Flitwick fixed me with an anxious look.
"Somehow I didn't realize it right away... And then I didn't want to set up my friend and tried to destroy the diary myself, but not very successfully... It doesn't burn in fire," I answered somewhat out of place, slightly afraid of lying so blatantly, but... I had no choice anyway. And mental magic, albeit with reservations, still allowed me to control myself and my thoughts enough to at least partially believe that I had just spoken the pure truth.
"Well now, more details on this from this moment, Mr. Potter," the half-goblin looked at me demandingly. "What exactly did you do and how did the artifact react to it? Try to remember everything in the smallest details. This could be very important!"
"I tried to burn it, Professor..." I began my story, remaining quite satisfied with Flitwick's reaction, even if not rushing to step out of my chosen persona. Which, however, did not prevent me from really telling the half-goblin in full detail about my attempts to destroy the horcrux. Because of which, admittedly, in the moment I had to prove my own abilities in Transfiguration and Charms, but it was still worth it in the end.
My Head of House treated the matter as seriously as possible, at the same time admitting that he did not fully understand what exactly kind of muck had fallen into my hands... But the half-goblin didn't even doubt that the artifact needed to be destroyed, even if intending first to show the diary to the Headmaster and Severus Snape, as a mage who understands dark magic better...
Not the best result, but alas, I was no longer in power to achieve more. It was absolutely impossible and unrealistic to force Flitwick to summon Fiendfyre right in front of me and burn the horcrux, no matter how much I wanted the opposite...
All that was left was to wait and hope that this time, the Headmaster, paired with our school dungeon terror, wouldn't screw up and would destroy the horcrux. Otherwise, I should start seriously worrying and thinking about how to transfer to some other school. Preferably to one outside of Britain and its islands.
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