Dylan sat down slowly at the table.
Riddle stood nearby, his head slightly bowed, silent.
Dylan grinned and asked, "What's the matter? Still no luck?"
Riddle's mouth twitched. "He… you know how obsessive I can be."
Dylan raised an eyebrow.
This guy actually knows he's a bit of a nutcase?
Well, well!
"So, no progress then?"
Riddle's face twitched again. "Yeah, that's right. I'm still working on it—argh!"
He started to speak, probably to make some excuse.
But before he could finish, Dylan whipped out his wand in a flash.
A holy light streaked through the air.
A beam struck the diary on the table.
The moment it connected, Riddle's shadowy form shuddered violently. His face contorted in agony, and a piercing scream tore through the room.
His already faint, ghostly body grew even dimmer, trembling with intense spasms.
He flailed his arms uselessly, collapsing to the floor, landing hard on his backside, legs kicking wildly.
No matter how he struggled, he couldn't escape the soul-deep, ripping pain.
"Stop! Please, stop!"
Dylan lounged in his chair, one leg casually crossed over the other, his foot tapping lightly.
His wand arm rested on the table's edge, wrist dangling lazily, but the wand's tip stayed locked on Riddle.
A steady stream of sacred white light poured from it, like a thin, unbroken trickle of water.
The other end tethered to Riddle's shadowy form.
"Stop! I'm begging you!"
Riddle's screams grew hoarser, more desperate, as the curse dragged on.
Dylan didn't react, just tilted his head slightly. His other hand rested casually on his knee, his gaze calm as he watched Riddle writhe and twist on the floor, kneeling in torment.
The young Dark Lord, once so arrogant, now had eyes filled only with raw fear and pain. Every inch of him spasmed in agony.
Dylan felt… well, not much.
He was used to it by now.
At first, Riddle might've tried to act tough.
But now? The second Dylan hit him with the Cruciatus Curse, Riddle would cave, begging and pleading.
No resistance, like some docile little thing, ready to do whatever Dylan wanted.
Almost like he'd been dosed with a potion to obey—or, well, like a corpse.
Dylan wasn't exactly thrilled by it.
He didn't enjoy torturing people.
It was just that, while casting the spell, he'd pick up on some interesting sensations. That's all.
Most people couldn't withstand the Unforgivable Curses for long without dying.
But with a Horcrux? Dylan could practice to his heart's content, honing his spellwork.
So, naturally, he'd zap Riddle with a curse every now and then.
Not because he wanted to torment him, of course.
What's the fun in that?
Riddle's pained wails filled the air.
Dylan slowly lowered his arm, the wand's searing white light fading as he moved, almost like he was toying with some trivial little object.
The moment the light vanished, Riddle's form collapsed.
His transparent body twitched uncontrollably, like a drowning man gasping for air. He curled up on the floor, panting heavily.
Each breath came with a broken sob.
His earlier screams had drained him completely.
His form was so faint now, he could barely speak, only managing weak, stuttering groans.
Those once-proud, cunning eyes were half-open, bloodshot.
When he looked at Dylan, there was pain, yes, but also a flicker of fear—and something darker, more venomous.
"I've got to keep enduring this," Riddle thought, quickly looking away.
Dylan caught the fleeting glance and the thought behind it but didn't care.
What, was he supposed to micromanage every little thing his "employee" did?
Let him sulk.
As long as the job got done.
And Riddle's job? Simple—help Dylan have some fun.
He wasn't wrong either. Practicing curses, getting better at casting them, and ticking off those spell mastery tasks? That was the deal.
Dylan's magic was improving, and that made him happy.
So, as long as the tasks got done, Riddle could sulk all he wanted.
What else could he do?
Worst case, Dylan would just mix in a few other curses next time, alongside the Cruciatus.
A little variety, right? Keeps things balanced!
Dylan flicked his wand lightly.
Riddle flinched.
Dylan glanced at him. "What're you jumping for?"
The next moment, a pure surge of life energy shot in from the window.
It flowed into the tattered, faintly smoking diary on the table.
The diary mended under the energy's touch.
Riddle's form solidified slightly.
He forced himself to take a breath, ignoring the lingering pain in his soul, and gave a dry laugh. "I'm just… in awe of your power."
Well, isn't that sweet?
Guess even a Dark Lord can be tamed!
Look at that progress.
Dylan ignored him and turned to the Ravenclaw diadem, sitting next to the diary.
Polished to a shine, it gleamed quietly on the table, still as death.
But despite its inanimate appearance, Dylan could sense the faint dread emanating from the soul fragment hidden within.
Dylan smirked.
Good. A little fear was perfect.
The only problem would be if it was too fearless, refusing to budge even after a round of Unforgivable Curses. That'd be tricky.
He'd already said he wouldn't destroy Ravenclaw's diadem.
But, honestly, it didn't matter. He could break it and patch it up with life energy. Who'd know, as long as Ravenclaw herself didn't find out?
The real issue was if the Voldemort in the diadem toughed it out, refusing to emerge even after a barrage of curses. Dylan couldn't exactly destroy the diadem for real.
For now, it was just a handy tool for practicing spells, seeing what kind of sparks he could get from a Horcrux and some dark magic.
Luckily, the soul fragment in the diadem—Voldemort's third Horcrux—wasn't completely unhinged yet. It wasn't made when he was totally off the deep end.
Sure, the soul inside was a bit twisted, maybe a touch mad.
But not entirely irrational.
Otherwise, it wouldn't have stayed hidden in the diadem, refusing to come out.
It knew hiding meant a chance at survival. Coming out? That was a death sentence.
Just like poor Riddle here, the cautionary tale.
Dylan reached out and touched the diadem.
It was cold.
The moment he made contact, his mind felt… sharper, more alive.
"Still a fine piece of work," he thought. "Even as a Horcrux, it's got some of its old magic. But if I blast it with dark magic, will that ruin its powers?"
He pondered silently.
He also felt a faint ripple of emotion from the diadem.
Dylan glanced at it, his tone flat.
"I'm getting impatient. I'll have Riddle call you out one more time. If you still don't show, I'll destroy the diadem. I've got the diary for Horcrux research, and I'm already closing in on the others."
He felt the soul in the diadem stir, its emotions surging.
Dylan chuckled.
He turned to Riddle.
"Now. Call him. Once. That's it."
Riddle blinked. "Now?"
Dylan narrowed his eyes. "What, you think I'm waiting?"
Riddle gave an awkward smile.
He'd thought Dylan might give the diadem's soul a couple more days. Guess not.
Dragging his still-aching form, Riddle turned to the diadem.
"Come out. If you don't, what happened to me will happen to you."
He opened his mouth to say more.
But Dylan raised his wand again.
"I said once."
His wrist flicked.
Just as the curse was about to burst forth—
A soul shot out from the diadem.
"Stop!"
A gray mist swirled, forming a vague human shape in the air.
Dylan looked up.
The figure's black hair was as neat as when he'd first met the diary's Riddle.
But it had a slick, overly groomed look now.
The face had lost its boyish edge, the features sharper, more defined.
A high nose, thin lips pressed into a cold line.
This was Tom Riddle in his twenties, still strikingly handsome, with a polished elegance.
And, crucially, his nose was still intact.
The diadem's Riddle spoke in a low voice, carrying an undeniable authority.
Unlike the diary's Riddle, who looked like he'd been through the wringer, this one radiated confidence, like he owned the room.
Dylan paused, the wand's light hovering inches from the diadem.
Their eyes met.
"Finally decided to show up?"
Dylan sized him up.
Two Horcruxes, two soul fragments, in the same place at the same time.
This was… intriguing.
This Riddle was from a few years later than the diary's version.
More mature. More ambitious.
This must've been when his mindset started to shift for good.
"Who are you?" the diadem's Riddle asked, his gaze probing.
Unlike the diary's Riddle, who'd been through Dylan's daily grind, this one was full of energy.
But he'd seen how Dylan had tormented his other self.
Just like earlier.
Dylan's mastery of the Unforgivable Curses was beyond anything he'd expected.
How could anyone wield dark magic like that?
It was almost… Slytherin-level legendary.
Dylan grinned. "Who I am? Does it matter?"
The diadem's Riddle stared. "You forced me out. What do you want?"
Dylan lowered his wand, shrugging. "Just wanted to chat. Didn't expect you to snub my friendly gesture like that."
The diadem's Riddle blinked. "Friendly? Gesture?"
He glanced at the other Riddle, whose face still flickered with pain, and his mouth twitched.
Some gesture.
"Yep, my goodwill," Dylan said, smiling. "I love sharing it. But when someone doesn't appreciate it, well, that puts me in a bit of a bind."
"You hid for so long, left me hanging. I'm not thrilled about it, so…"
His smile widened.
"You'll have to take a little punishment. No objections, right?"
The diadem's Riddle's eyes widened. "What? You said if I came out, you wouldn't touch me!"
Dylan raised his wand again. "That was then. This is now."
"You filthy, despicable cheat!"
The diadem's Riddle lunged back toward the diadem.
But the curse was faster.
Before he could reach it, a holy light enveloped him.
"What is this spell?!"
He struggled but couldn't move.
Panic surged in him.
He'd never encountered a spell like this.
Even when his future self had updated his memories before hiding him, there was nothing about a curse that could sever a Horcrux's soul from its vessel!
What was this?!
"Relax, it's not an Unforgivable," Dylan said with a grin. "Don't stress. I just want you to see something. Consider it a small penalty. You're not going to refuse my hospitality, are you?"
The diadem's Riddle was speechless.
Trapped, immobile, what could he say?
Dare he refuse this "hospitality"?
"What do you want me to see…?"
"Something amazing. One look, and you'll never forget it—not until your soul's completely gone."
Dylan's tone was light, teasing.
Then, a terrifying burst of magic erupted from him.
And in the air, eyes began to appear, one by one.
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