Dudley set the diary aside and pulled a large, sealed bucket from the bag at his waist.
Unhurriedly, he took out a gas mask and slipped it over his face.
When he lifted the lid of the bucket, a sharp, pungent smell filled the air. The bucket was brimming with a colorless, viscous liquid.
He had zero interest in flipping through the diary of some old Hogwarts student named Tom Riddle, nor did he care about whatever knowledge it might hold. Why bother with that when he could just ask a professor or crack open a book? Why trust something that might deceive or manipulate him?
What did interest him was the soul fragment inside the diary—perfect for refining into a Philosopher's Stone or a magical crystal.
The diary seemed to sense the danger. It buzzed and hummed, as if trying to negotiate, resist, or even beg for mercy.
But it was pointless.
Dudley had no intention of even opening it.
Without enough life force to sustain it, the diary couldn't even manifest a ghostly soul. It was just a black notebook with a fancy vibration mode.
Flip, flip, flip. The diary's pages turned on their own.
Words appeared on the page: "Please, wait. We can talk."
Dudley ignored it completely. He grabbed a massive pair of tongs and clamped them around the diary.
The diary squirmed uselessly in his grip.
Horcruxes were crafted with dark, complex magic, making even a simple diary far tougher than most objects. Destroying one required something extraordinary—like the Sword of Gryffindor or a basilisk fang dripping with venom.
Dudley had neither.
So he'd come up with a new method.
That bucket? It wasn't filled with some potent magical potion or poison to rival basilisk venom.
No, it wasn't even magical.
It was a bucket of HSO3F-SbF5—fluorosulfuric acid, or as it's better known, magic acid. A superacid with corrosive power that made aqua regia look like water.
By Dudley's calculations, this was the best way to destroy the Horcrux without compromising the quality of the Philosopher's Stone it would yield. It worked perfectly for the diary, though it might not be as effective on something like a locket or the Resurrection Stone. It'd probably do wonders on Hufflepuff's Cup, though—assuming it was pure gold.
He tossed the diary into the bucket. The viscous liquid immediately engulfed it, wrapping around every inch.
The bucket began to shake violently, the liquid inside bubbling like boiling water. But Dudley wasn't disappointed—magic acid was doing its job. The diary dissolved at an alarming rate, sizzling with a sharp hiss.
The diary didn't go down without a fight. Thick streams of black liquid oozed from its pages, but they were no match for the acid's relentless corrosion. When the diary was reduced to less than a third of its original form, a plume of black smoke burst out, carrying a putrid, decaying stench.
The smoke twisted into the shape of a young, distorted face, mouth gaping as if letting out a silent roar of fury.
"There you are!" Dudley said, a satisfied grin spreading across his face. He took a step back, then stomped his right foot. A massive transmutation circle flared to life, covering the entire room.
"Hello, Senior Tom. I'm your junior, Jerry," Dudley said, introducing himself to the twisted face.
But that was all the courtesy he offered. He had no intention of chatting. With a casual wave, he added, "Well, see you later, Senior."
No time for explanations or negotiations.
He clapped his hands together, and the red glow of the transmutation circle lit up the room.
Moments later, two gems—one red, one blue—lay quietly in the circle, gleaming brightly.
---
Hogwarts Castle
Madison, the girl who'd been watching Dudley, stood at the corridor's edge. As his figure disappeared around the corner, a sly smile curved her lips, perfect and deliberate.
She strolled a few steps to the right, leaning against a windowsill. Basking in the warm sunlight, she stretched lazily, her movements soft and fluid. A soft, purring hum escaped her throat, like a cat soaking up the sun.
She looked young, but every gesture carried an unmistakable allure.
Yes, allure was the word. It wasn't quite right to pin that term on a first-year witch, but it fit her perfectly.
Madison wasn't entirely human. Her mother wasn't human at all—she was a Veela, a magical creature known for enchanting beauty.
Madison and her brother Marcus weren't full siblings; they shared a father but had different mothers.
She was, in truth, illegitimate.
Roberts was her mother's surname.
By all accounts, pure-blood wizards sneered at Muggle-born witches and wizards, let alone magical creatures. But that didn't stop them from "having their fun." It wasn't uncommon among pure-bloods. Take Draco Malfoy's grandfather, Abraxas Malfoy, who died of dragon pox syphilis—care to guess how he caught it?
"No wonder he's the king of Slytherin," Madison murmured, licking her lips with a seductive grin. "He's not like the other little wizards."
In that moment, she dropped all pretense. If any young wizard saw her now, they'd be instantly smitten, helplessly ensnared.
Veela charm could drive men to obsession, even madness. And Madison, with her half-Veela blood, had inherited that power in spades—arguably stronger than a full Veela's. She called it her demon charm.
She knew Dudley had seen through her act. That was the point.
The "accidental" bump in the corridor, the cheap love potion perfume wafting from her—it was all deliberate.
Anyone with half a brain could figure it out.
But that was how she hooked him. Catch his attention, plant the seed.
Madison let out a soft laugh, her eyes sparkling with charm as she flashed a perfect smile, showing exactly eight gleaming teeth.
Once he notices me, he'll start watching me.
The rest would be easy.
If he found himself drawn to her even without the love potion's scent, wouldn't he start to think it was love?
Madison was utterly confident in her plan—and in her charm. Even grown wizards couldn't resist her; she'd proven that already.
One more thing: she was supposed to be sorted into Slytherin. But she'd refused the Sorting Hat's choice and ended up in Ravenclaw instead.
Her reasoning? She wanted a different kind of experience.
The girls in her own house were old news. Why not check out the ones in another?
Just wait, she thought.
A few more "coincidences," and he'd start seeking her out. He'd want to know more about her, care about her. And then…
It wouldn't be long before he was completely under her spell.