"Good evening, Riddle."
Dumbledore wrote this line across the diary's yellowed page:"I have good news for you—I've succeeded!"
"What?" The diary immediately showed Riddle's confusion in ink that bled across the page.
"Through the Ultra Wormhole, I successfully found the wizarding world you spoke of before," Dumbledore continued. "Now, I've chosen a representative—this world's Charles Gold. He's helping me merge the two worlds bit by bit. The Pokémon School of Hogwarts has already opened its doors to young wizards."
Riddle: ???
The diary stayed silent for a long time, as though stunned by Dumbledore's words.Even more confusing, Dumbledore had worked with Lockhart to modify a few fragments of Riddle's memory, making him forget ever meeting Charles. Naturally, that meant he also forgot that Charles once claimed to be Harry Potter.
At last, after a long pause, words appeared in the diary again, written with a tremor of excitement:"Is that true?"
No matter what, returning was good news. In a world without wands or magic, even resurrection was impossible for him.
"Of course it's true."
"In that case," Riddle wrote eagerly, "why don't you take me to see Voldemort? Once he sees this diary, he'll believe you. Together, we can rule both worlds!"
"That," Dumbledore replied calmly, "is the bad news. You're dead."
"What?—Impossible! I have gone further down the path of immortality than anyone! I cannot die!" Riddle's words slashed across the page in furious strokes.
He had created so many Horcruxes precisely to prevent death. The diary remained intact—so how could Voldemort be dead?
"But according to what I know," Dumbledore wrote, feigning mild surprise, "Voldemort died once, ten years ago. They say he fell at the hands of a baby. You cast the Killing Curse on the child, but it rebounded. Apart from leaving the child a scar, it didn't harm him at all."
He paused a moment before adding, "A few months ago, with your servant's help, you resurrected again—but this time, you were defeated by Charles Gold."
"Charles Gold? Isn't he the representative you chose? Why would he oppose me?" Riddle demanded furiously.
"For that, I must apologize," Dumbledore wrote with composed regret. "When I first began crossing the Ultra Wormhole, the link between the worlds was unstable. I couldn't yet know what had happened in the wizarding world."
"The good news," he continued, "is that you're still… somewhat alive. Just exiled from Britain."
"I was expelled from Britain…" Riddle echoed in disbelief.
He knew better than anyone how powerful he was. At his peak, even Dumbledore had admitted inferiority—Harry merely believed Dumbledore refused to use Dark Magic.He had Horcruxes to ensure survival, yes, but even with them, his physical body could still perish. And Dumbledore had never once destroyed Voldemort's body before.
Yet somehow, he'd lost.Lost to Charles Gold and his Pokémon—fine, maybe that could be excused.But a baby?
Unacceptable.Absurd.
Riddle now burned with the need to know what had happened since his creation—how the once-feared, mighty Lord Voldemort, ruler-to-be of the wizarding world, could lose to a child.
"I did look into it," Dumbledore wrote leisurely. "They say it was all because of a prophecy. A child born at the end of July would defeat you—born to parents who had already defied you three times."
He, of course, revealed only the part of the prophecy Snape had overheard.
"It's unbelievable, yes," Dumbledore went on, "but that's what happened. The boy who defeated you is now in his second year. I heard he even left another scar on you last year."
Riddle was speechless for a long time.
Then, slowly, new ink lines appeared on the diary's surface:"I want to meet him."
More than anything else, Riddle now wanted to see this Harry Potter—this child who had supposedly bested him twice.He wanted to look into the boy's eyes and see what kind of power could possibly rival his own.
"That," Dumbledore wrote at last, "depends on how you manage it yourself."
"What do you mean?" Riddle asked sharply.
"I mean, I won't help you," came the reply. "Charles Gold and this world's Dumbledore are both immensely powerful. I have no intention of facing them directly. Whatever you plan to do, you'll do it alone—and I'll place restrictions on you to keep our secret safe."
"So you still want to pretend to be the virtuous one?" Riddle sneered.
He realized this Dumbledore was utterly different from the one he remembered—more cautious, more fearful.
If the Sorting Hat had ever offered him a choice, he would never have gone to Gryffindor.
"My magic is stronger than theirs!" Riddle declared.
That much was true. Voldemort's power had been terrifying—he'd once fought McGonagall, Slughorn, and Kingsley Shacklebolt all at once.And truthfully, he had been toying with them.
Those three were among the greatest living wizards beneath legend: two former Heads of Hogwarts Houses and one elite Auror who later became Minister for Magic. Yet even they were helpless before Voldemort. When he learned Bellatrix had died, a single spell from him blasted all three aside.
And that was while wielding the Elder Wand—which had recognized Harry, not him. In Voldemort's hand, it was no stronger than any common wand.Even so, his power was overwhelming.
"Perhaps," Dumbledore wrote quietly, "but right now, you're still the one who lost."
Riddle fell silent.
He wanted to lash out, but knowing his very existence depended on Dumbledore's mercy, he swallowed his anger instead.
"In that case," he finally wrote, "place me near a young wizard. Let them find me."
(End of Chapter)