armyinform Chapter 262: The Tutor
Chapter 262: The Tutor
The moment Riddle’s writing faded, the diary’s yellowed pages seemed to lighten, as if they were losing color. Almost immediately, a messy scrawl in what looked like frantic, uneven handwriting appeared across the paper. Kyle squinted, trying to make out the words:
[]
As Kyle read, that unsettling sense of prying crept back, stronger than before. This time, he could even hear a faint whisper in his mind, gently urging him to believe Riddle’s words, nudging him toward obedience. However, thanks to Occlumency, the subtle hint became clear and almost crude, more like a blunt command that he was supposed to follow.
Kyle mused to himself.
Raising an eyebrow, Kyle feigned obliviousness and wrote with a calm expression,
[]
Riddle’s handwriting returned to its usual neat form.
[]
Kyle responded, agreeing without hesitation.
Following this exchange, Riddle became unusually restrained, focusing exclusively on his role as Kyle’s “tutor,” as though terrified Kyle might change his mind and take the diary to Dumbledore after all. But despite Riddle’s compliance, the experience grew frustrating for Kyle.
Riddle’s handwriting, once a bold black, had faded to a dull gray, and each time Kyle asked a question, it grew lighter. Eventually, as Kyle posed yet another question about the arrangement of magical words, Riddle stopped responding altogether. A single, faint line appeared:
[]
Kyle wrote back, appearing anxious. he thought bitterly.
[]
Kyle wrote, confused.
[] Riddle explained. []
Kyle replied, feigning distress.
Kyle continued,
The diary was silent for a moment.
Riddle, likely unfamiliar with Dungbombs, could infer from the name alone that it wasn’t pleasant. he probably wondered.
[] he eventually wrote, his handwriting fading further, as though to ensure Kyle could read it.
[]
Kyle glanced at the enchanted box beside him, crafted by none other than Nicolas Flamel, a box designed to block and contain magic. If he stored the diary inside, it might take ages for it to recharge—or perhaps it wouldn’t at all.
Riddle seemed to have been waiting for this prompt. His response appeared quickly:
[]
Kyle was momentarily taken aback. He’d expected Riddle to ask for something more trivial—perhaps a small magical charm—but dragon blood? That was hardly a small request.
[]
The truth was, Riddle would have preferred the blood of a unicorn, as its unique properties would have allowed him to recover even faster, free from the curse he would incur as a living being. But he sensed that requesting unicorn blood might raise too many questions, so he opted for dragon blood as a less suspicious choice.
Kyle wrote, adding a touch of admiration.
[] Riddle replied, brushing off the mention of Dumbledore, clearly uninterested in discussing him further.
[]
Kyle raised an eyebrow and wrote,
There was a pause, and then Riddle’s response appeared:
[]
If the words hadn’t faded so quickly, Kyle would’ve liked to save that sentence as a trophy—Voldemort himself admitting he feared Dumbledore would surely make headlines on the front page of
Kyle wrote thoughtfully.
[] The response appeared quickly, and the handwriting was noticeably messier, almost frantic.
Kyle continued,
[] Riddle wrote, a hint of desperation creeping into the letters.
Kyle then wrote his final message, closing the interaction abruptly.
As he closed the diary, he thought he glimpsed another message forming, the ink dark and bold. But he didn’t pause to read it. Instead, he tossed the diary back into the enchanted box, snapped the lid shut, and set it aside.
Turning to the parchments littered across his desk, he began organizing them, carefully reviewing each one with the beside him.