"An interesting question, Spike," Tom's handwriting gradually steadied. "It seems you're facing the sweet dilemma of an exceptional wizard. Are you pursuing two girls at once?"
"Pursuing? No, they're the ones vying for me," Snape wrote with a deliberately infuriating arrogance. "They both want me all to themselves, but I'm so exceptional that belonging to just one would be a grave injustice to the others. Besides, it's not just two."
The ink spread across the page before slowly forming words. "An exceptional man should indeed have more options," Tom's handwriting grew slightly stiff. "I faced a similar situation in my fifth year. Three girls, all… quite friendly toward me."
"You?" Snape scribbled quickly. "I've never even heard of you. Are you as exceptional as I am?"
The ink was absorbed rapidly, and Tom's reply appeared faster than before.
"Perhaps I go by a different name now. What year is it? Who's considered the greatest and most powerful wizard in the world?"
Snape's eyes narrowed slightly, his fingertips brushing the quill's shaft. The question was too direct, almost betraying the diary's eagerness. He paused for a few seconds before writing slowly.
"1983," he wrote, mixing truth with lies. "The current Headmaster of Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore, is widely regarded as the greatest wizard of our time."
"Professor Dumbledore is already Headmaster of Hogwarts?" Tom responded immediately, his handwriting suddenly frantic. "In my time, he was still the Transfiguration professor. Do you know—"
Snape didn't let him finish.
"Dumbledore as a Transfiguration teacher? That was ages ago, Riddle," he wrote. "If you want information from me, what can you offer? Not empty promises. If you can't help me, as a fellow Slytherin, tell me why I should waste my time on you? Let's address my problem first. You said you dealt with girls chasing you—how did you handle it?"
The diary fell silent longer than ever before. Snape almost thought the conversation was over, but finally, a new line of text slowly emerged.
"Mediocrity is the enemy, Spike. If I may be blunt, you're making a mistake only the ordinary would make. A true champion isn't bound by 'choices' but makes choices serve him."
Snape read the words, recognizing the familiar tone.
"I made them understand I was worth their affection," Tom continued. "You should know that power is the key. Girls are drawn to strength. Show your ability, let them see your worth. In my fifth year, three girls took turns organizing my notes each week… they even made a schedule for it. All you need is to strengthen yourself."
A flicker of mockery passed through Snape's dark eyes, and he let out a soft snort.
"That only solves the broader issue," he wrote. "My immediate problem remains unresolved, Riddle. Got anything else to say? For a memory, you don't seem to know much."
Another line of slightly scrawled text appeared on the diary.
"If you care so much about girls, here's the key: make each one feel special—without implying she's the only one. Specifically, ensure each feels she's getting unique attention, sharing secrets with you alone. But you must keep them unaware of each other. Create 'coincidences'—like 'bumping into' one in the library or 'happening' to practice spells with another after Charms class."
"That's it?" Snape stared at the words, thoughtful but still writing deliberately. "Too much hassle and a waste of time. Forget it, I'll stick with my original plan. I think Amortentia is a more efficient solution. Professor Slughorn taught us about it."
The diary seemed to tremble slightly. Snape could almost picture a young Voldemort frowning on the other side.
At that moment, Lily and Pandora waved at him from the long table.
Snape tucked the diary away and walked over.
"What's up?" he asked, peering at the steaming cauldron in front of them.
"Severus," Pandora said excitedly, "with these tools, we're almost there on our second batch! I didn't know I had such a knack for Potions!"
"Indeed, your talent isn't limited to Charms experiments," Snape said, leaning closer. "Let me see." The potion was clear and bright, emitting faint purple steam—a sign, according to Practical Potions Mastery, that it was nearing success. "Looks good. Not sure if it'll work, though. We might need a volunteer."
He exchanged a glance with Lily.
"It needs about another hour," Lily said with a smile, holding a timer. "I'll keep an eye on it to ensure the perfect brewing time."
"Great," Snape said. "As for a volunteer, I have someone in mind. The full moon's a little over a week away. I'll talk to them later today."
"The werewolves in the Forbidden Forest?" Pandora asked curiously.
"No," Snape said, winking at her and shaking his head. "Different werewolves. I need to keep it confidential."
Hearing Pandora's question and Snape's vague response, Lily's expression seemed to brighten slightly.
But Pandora looked just as pleased. She assumed Snape meant the werewolves in the Forbidden Forest—he'd mentioned them in passing once and sworn her to secrecy.
Seeing their reactions, Snape paused for a moment, realizing he'd unintentionally caused a misunderstanding—each girl thought he was referring to a different group of werewolf volunteers. Tom's advice had actually worked: he'd shared a secret with each, making them both feel special.
He rubbed his chin, chuckling inwardly.
"Very good," Snape said, keeping his tone deliberately casual. "Keep at it. And remember, no sugar."
Both girls nodded happily.
Back in his corner, Snape reopened the diary, now blank again.
"Did you say something earlier, Riddle? Two girls came to find me, so I missed it," he wrote.
The page trembled slightly, and a line of text slowly appeared.
"Even for a Slytherin, don't you think Amortentia is a bit too extreme?" Tom's handwriting was unusually forceful. "It's a卑劣 form of coercion. A truly great wizard relies on his own merit."
Rely on merit to attack an infant? Snape nearly lost control of his expression. A Dark wizard's soul fragment in a diary preaching morality? It was laughably absurd.
"Let's move on," he wrote dismissively. "Since your earlier advice was somewhat useful, what do you want to know? Being trapped in a diary for years can't be pleasant."
"Well… it hasn't been pleasant. Sorry, Spike, that's why I've been asking you so many questions. I can't hear or see—words are my only connection to the outside world," Riddle's gentle reply appeared. "Horace Slughorn is still your Potions professor? He must be getting on in years. Is the Slug Club still active? I miss those gatherings. Did he ever mention his favorite student?"
Without hesitation, Snape wrote, "Me."
After his brief reply vanished, a small blob of ink spread as if accidentally spilled, followed by Tom's response. Snape noticed the ink seemed to seep more slowly.
"Alright," Tom wrote. "Let's change the subject. Is the wizarding world at peace lately?"
There it was, after all the circling. Snape's eyes gleamed—this was what Tom truly cared about.
After a moment's thought, he decided to tell Tom that Voldemort had been defeated. Otherwise, by logic, this diary would never have ended up in a Hogwarts student's hands.
"It's been fine," Snape wrote, refilling his quill. "Since Dumbledore defeated Voldemort four years ago, Britain's been relatively calm."
"Voldemort? Is he the most prominent Dark wizard now?" Tom's text pressed harder into the page. "When this memory was recorded, Gellert Grindelwald was the most notorious."
"That's ancient history," Snape continued his half-truths. "In 1945, Grindelwald was also defeated by Dumbledore. See why he's considered the greatest wizard? It's all in The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts."
"That's good news," Tom wrote. "In my time, wizards and Muggle alike lived in endless fear, dreading the wars of both worlds. No one had peace."
"Indeed," Snape wrote. "Thankfully, both worlds' wars are over now. All's well—except for my romantic troubles, of course."
"What happened to those two Dark wizards?" Tom ignored Snape's last remark, pressing on.
"I can understand why you'd care," Snape wrote casually. "Things were tough back then. Grindelwald was imprisoned in Nurmengard's tower after Dumbledore defeated him. As for Voldemort, he vanished completely. They say after Dumbledore beat him, he was reduced to a wisp of smoke—no body left."
"No body left?" Tom's handwriting grew messier.
"Exactly. Gone without a trace." Snape stifled a laugh as Lily and Pandora glanced at him curiously. He waved them off. "Even Voldemort's loyal Death Eaters abandoned his cause after he disappeared."
"Thank you, Spike," Tom wrote after a pause, each stroke deliberate. "It's getting late. Let's talk another time."
"Not so fast, Riddle," Snape scribbled, making his handwriting appear rushed. "One more question: do you know how to break the curse on a blood-cursed beast?"
"A blood-cursed beast? That's quite rare," Tom's cautious text flowed slowly. "Is this another girl you're considering? Regardless, I might be able to help."
"Then tell me, Riddle," Snape wrote, his handwriting eager and sincere.
"I'd be glad to help, Spike. Decades without conversation is painful, my new friend," the diary paused, then produced text that made Snape's breath catch. "But first, let's start with your real name. I need to know it to assist you."
Snape's back broke out in cold sweat, his fingers trembling slightly.
He suspected the diary needed its writer to reveal their true self to absorb their soul. Tom must have sensed he wasn't using his real name.
After much deliberation, Snape decided to take the risk, but killing the basilisk had to be prioritized immediately.
"Well… sorry, Riddle," he wrote carefully. "For caution's sake, I'm sure you understand. My name is Severus Snape."
The ink spread but didn't vanish immediately, as if the other side was processing.
"Alright, Snape," the text flowed smoothly. "Now we have a foundation of trust. Tell me, what's the animal form of your blood-cursed beast friend, and how far has her condition progressed?"
"She can no longer transform from snake to human."
"Snake?"
"Yes."
"You speak Parseltongue?"
"What does that have to do with it?"
"Nothing, but Parseltongue is rare. I thought you were Muggle-born."
"No, I'm half-and-half," Snape wrote. "My father's a Muggle."
"Is that so?" Tom pressed. "Do you speak Parseltongue? How far back can you trace your maternal line?"
"First question: yes," Snape answered. "Second: I don't know. Will you help me break the blood curse?"
"I believe I can."
"What's the cost?"
"I'll tell you later."
————
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