Everyday Life of a Top Student at Hogwarts

Chapter 247 The Silent Struggle

Chapter 247 The Silent Struggle

The moment the lead box was opened, nothing seemed to change in the workshop. And unlike the situation with the crown, the diary lay there quietly, almost inconspicuous. But in Karen's perception, especially from the perspective of the "Eye of Truth," an extremely subtle, spiderweb-like mental field was slowly and tentatively spreading outwards from the diary. It was so faint that it was almost imperceptible without prior knowledge and heightened vigilance. It seemed to be sensing its surroundings, probing for any accessible consciousness.

Cullen didn't act immediately. He maintained the perfect operation of Occlumency, his mind as calm as a frozen lake, all his true intentions and knowledge buried deep beneath the ice. Reflected on the surface was his carefully prepared "disguise": a Ravenclaw third-year student named Cullen Hawthorne, intelligent and studious, with a touch of ambition, dissatisfied and confused by the professors' (especially Lockhart's) incompetence, full of curiosity about the wizarding world, and occasionally feeling a subtle pressure because of his Muggle-born family (this was bait he deliberately added based on points that Tom Riddle might be interested in; there were other, more tempting baits such as Harry and Voldemort, but Cullen didn't intend to throw out the bombshell at the beginning). This disguised personality was active, simulating the expected emotional fluctuations, but strictly controlled behind the barrier of Occlumency, like a lifelike puppet.

He walked to the workbench and, instead of using one of those conspicuous quills that might possess magical properties, chose a very ordinary black ink quill he had brought from the Great Hall of Hogwarts. He unscrewed a bottle of equally ordinary ink and dipped the nib fully.

Taking a deep breath, Karen opened the diary. On the title page, the blurry name "TM Riddle" came into view. The paper was slightly worn, but blank, without any writing.

He put down his pen and began to write. The pen tip scratched across the paper with a soft, rustling sound. What he wrote was his fabricated reflection on today's Defense Against the Dark Arts class:

September 2nd. Cloudy.

Defense Against the Dark Arts class was a disaster. The new Professor Lockhart—his classes were as flashy and impractical as he was. The entire class consisted of nothing but ridiculous quizzes about his preferences and watching him perform that utterly pathetic "fainting" act. Was he really a member of Merlin's Order? I seriously doubted whether the stories in his books were ghostwritten. Professor Flitwick's most basic Charms class was far more substantial.

The writing remained clearly on the paper, the ink slowly drying. The diary remained unresponsive. It neither absorbed ink nor produced any reply.

But Karen's "Eye of Truth" clearly detected a faint activity within the cold, dark magical source of the diary as he wrote. Like a venomous snake slumbering in the darkness, it slightly raised its head due to the nearby vibrations, but remained dormant, not launching an attack. At the same time, he sensed at least three extremely subtle, almost imperceptible mental probes, like invisible spider silk, attempting to gently touch his consciousness, probing the true emotions he felt as he wrote these words.

These probing tentacles are extremely cunning; they don't seek breakthroughs, but rather act as tentative touches, sensing the "water temperature." What they touch is the "surface emotion" perfectly simulated by Karen's brain-closure technique:

Genuine contempt for Lockhart (this emotion is real and doesn't need to be fabricated), a hint of anxiety about not being able to learn anything (pretended), and a little bit of irritability caused by disappointment (pretended).

The probe lasted for a few seconds, then receded silently like the tide. The diary fell silent again, as if everything that had just happened was merely Karen's illusion.

Karen's expression remained unchanged, but she sneered inwardly. Sure enough, she was very wary. It was observing and assessing. It needed to confirm whether the person it was contacting was "safe," whether they possessed "value," and whether there were any weaknesses it could exploit. She herself was currently just an ordinary student dissatisfied with the professor—a sentiment all too common at Hogwarts—and didn't seem to warrant its immediate intervention.

Undeterred, he closed the diary and locked it back in its lead box. The first attempt, predictably, yielded no results. But this in itself was a message: this Horcrux was extremely cautious. However, Cullen wasn't in a hurry, because currently the only potential danger in the school was Peter Pettigrew; the remaining Basilisks had been dealt with, the diary was in his possession, the tiara was in France, and the other Horcruxes shouldn't be appearing at Hogwarts anytime soon.

Over the next few days, Karen strictly followed his plan. Every day, he would choose a different time (usually after lunch break or evening self-study) to enter the heavily guarded workshop, open the lead box, and take out his diary for a brief attempt at "communication".

He tried to change the content and style of his writing:

Sometimes, he would express more specific confusion: "—I can't find any in-depth information about Professor Flitwick's theory of magical resonance in the library. Is all this advanced knowledge monopolized?" He would throw out a bait that piqued the thirst for knowledge.

Sometimes, he would vent about trivial "troubles": "—Ernesto is arguing with someone again about bloodline. Sometimes I think the pure blood theory is really narrow-minded and ridiculous, but I have to admit that some ancient families do control more resources." He was slightly touching on the topic of bloodline, revealing a little bit of resentment.

Sometimes, he would even write down everyday trivia: "—The syrup tarts made by the house-elf in the kitchen taste different again; I still prefer last year's recipe." —Testing whether it would react to any emotional fluctuations.

However, no matter what he wrote, the diary remained silent. The ink was never absorbed, and the pages were blank except for his own handwriting.

But Karen's "Eye of Truth" observed the same phenomenon every time: as he wrote, the diary's magic would become extremely subtle, almost negligible; at the same time, the threads of mental probing would always arrive as expected, cautiously touching his surface consciousness before quickly retreating. It was like an extremely patient hunter, lurking in the shadows, repeatedly assessing its prey, never easily revealing itself.

This silent battle lasted for nearly a week. Karen remained calm; he knew that patience was his only weapon against such a force. After several "exchanges," he even deliberately feigned a slight frustration of "research setbacks" in front of his roommate, perfectly matching his persona as a student "trying to study a strange magical item but making no progress."

Wesley and Fabian inquired several times with concern, but he brushed them off each time with the excuse that he had "run into a bottleneck in verifying a complex ancient rune," while secretly observing their reactions to confirm that they hadn't discovered the real source of their troubles. Ernesto, on the other hand, silently fulfilled his duty of observation, his gray eyes occasionally sweeping scrutinize Karen.

The diary's silence did not lower Karen's guard; instead, it made him even more certain of the danger and cunning of the consciousness within. It was not asleep; it was waiting, waiting for the perfect moment to strike decisively and completely control its prey.

Amid this silent stalemate, the rest of the Hogwarts school year's courses had already begun as scheduled. In their third year, they began their new elective courses.