It's simple—just set those beautiful magical trinkets aside for now, and answer me this: may I teach you a spell?
Staring at the elegant script blooming across the diary page, Pansy hesitated, her brow furrowing as she weighed her options. The pause didn't last long. She slipped off the silver necklace from around her neck, quill poised to accept Riddle's request.
Before her pen even touched the page, a wave of warmth washed over her—gentle as sunlight. It was so out of place here.
The Slytherin common room and dormitories, nestled deep beneath the castle, were always shrouded in chill and damp. Through the windows, one could glimpse the murky depths of the Black Lake, but never a ray of true warmth. Even in the height of summer, a cool dampness clung to every stone.
Yet now, not just Pansy, but every student in the common room felt it—a sudden, inexplicable warmth. Bewildered, they glanced around, searching for the source. Before anyone could guess, the warmth seemed to swirl away, sucked toward the girls' dormitory and vanishing like a dream.
Almost in unison, the students shivered, confusion flickering in their eyes. Where had that warmth come from?
"Mr. Riddle, did you do something?" Pansy wrote, suspicion and curiosity mingling in her gaze. She had a strange sense that the diary had drawn in that fleeting warmth, absorbing it along with something more.
Pansy, it seems I'll be able to see you much sooner than I thought. All I need is a single drop of your blood, and I can emerge from the diary.
"Blood? Will any animal's blood do?"
I'd never want you to be hurt, but blood has an effect on my form. If I used the blood of a pet, I might turn out... well...
The unfinished sentence made Pansy hesitate. Yet the words were so beguiling, so full of promise, that she found herself desperate to see Riddle in the flesh—to know what he truly looked like.
I know it's a lot to ask for your blood. To receive the blood of a beautiful young lady like you—perhaps it would make me even better...
"I think I can do it..." Pansy wrote, determination blooming. She rummaged through her trunk and found a letter opener. Pressing its tip to her thumb, she bit her lip and pressed down hard.
A droplet of blood welled up and fell onto the diary, blossoming into a vivid, crimson flower—startling and beautiful as a mandrake in bloom.
The diary drank it in greedily, trembling with a strange, rhythmic pulse.
Suddenly, streams of ink erupted from its pages, swirling around Pansy like ribbons. They settled to the floor, pooling and gathering, coalescing into the shape of a person.
A tall boy stood before her—black-haired, strikingly handsome, his skin almost unnaturally pale, lending him a cold, ethereal elegance. His eyes were lowered, brow faintly creased as he surveyed his surroundings.
After a moment, he spoke in a voice tinged with apology, "Appearing in the dormitory is probably not very appropriate."
He bowed with practiced grace. "But, Pansy... I can't stray too far from you. I'm truly sorry."
Can't stray too far from you!
The words sent a blank shock through Pansy's mind. She sprang to her feet, clutching the diary to her chest as she hurried over. "Can anyone else see you?"
Riddle shook his head. "Just appearing before you has already cost me most of my strength. No one else can see me."
Pansy asked immediately, "Do we still need to kill the roosters? To take their life force?"
"Yes." Riddle smiled faintly. "I can return to the diary for now, and we'll find a more secluded place to practice the spell."
Pansy's brow knit in thought. "I'll need to think carefully about this."
Riddle's smile never quite faded. "Is there a place that used to be forbidden? Such places are often deserted."
Pansy's eyes lit up. "There is! I remember last year, Dumbledore strictly forbade students from going there."
"And then some Dark wizard broke in. Harry Potter, that Lovegood, and a professor all ended up in the hospital wing because of it."
Whether it was the blood or something else, Pansy felt like a leaky bucket—she wanted to tell Riddle everything.
Riddle nodded approvingly. "Sounds like a perfect place... Harry Potter... you've mentioned him before, haven't you?"
"He's the 'Boy Who Lived'! Supposedly defeated You-Know-Who." Pansy wrinkled her nose. "Last year Draco lost face because of him—he's just a nobody, really."
"You-Know-Who, Harry Potter, Lovegood, a professor..." Riddle's smile grew charming. "That will be the perfect spot!"
"Next time you come to see me, use the Patronus Charm again."
In the corridor, Professor Snape instructed Wyzett in his usual clipped tone. "A small-scale Patronus Charm—cast it as soon as you enter my office. And as for what happened this afternoon, there's no need to mention it to anyone else."
Wyzett nodded. "Yes, Professor Snape. I'll remember."
Snape nodded back. "It's late. Go have your dinner."
Wyzett blinked, noticing something odd.
Since leaving that classroom, Professor Snape's eyes had been red, but his voice had lost its usual cold, deep edge. Even his brow seemed more relaxed than normal.
It must be the effect of the Patronus Charm—a magic born of positive emotion, powerful enough to ward off Dementors and protect those close by.
"It's him again!"
A familiar voice echoed down the corridor—Harry's, with Hermione and Ron at his side.
Seeing Snape approaching, Harry braced himself, lips pursed as if already counting off lost House points.
But to his shock, Snape merely glanced at him and swept past without a word.
"Huh?"
"What?"
"Er..."
The trio exchanged baffled glances, each reading the same confusion in the others' eyes.
Once Snape had disappeared down the stairs, Harry finally exclaimed, "He... didn't take any points?"
Ron gaped, then turned to the ever-resourceful Wyzett. "Wyzett... what actually happened between you and him?"
Wyzett answered simply, "I asked him for some advice on Potions."
Harry muttered, "Only you would dare that... asking Snape for Potions tips."
"Ugh!" Hermione let out a long, heartfelt sigh—pure envy in her voice.
Wyzett reached into his pocket and pulled out a newly-repaired wand. "Oh! I was in such a rush this afternoon, I forgot to give this back to you."
"My wand! My wand!" Ron nearly shouted in delight, hands trembling as he took it, running his fingers lovingly along its length.
"Lumos!" He gave it an experimental flick, and the tip blazed with light. "Brilliant! Good as new!"
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