Everyday Life of a Top Student at Hogwarts

Chapter 252 Cutting Off the Fire at the Bottom of the Blade

Chapter 252 Cutting Off the Fire at the Bottom of the Blade

Time flew by as he focused on his research. For the next few days, Karen strictly adhered to his self-imposed "cold treatment" strategy, refraining from opening the diary again. He devoted most of his energy to the conceptualization and preliminary verification of the autonomous defense system. His workbench was covered with parchment sketches of rune structures and energy circuits, and he repeatedly tested the magical conductivity and compatibility of various metal sheets and crystal samples.

A few days later, on Saturday morning, Karen once again entered the inner workshop alone. This time, he didn't attempt to write as usual. He directly activated all the protective magic within the workshop, layer upon layer of concealment and isolation barriers were activated, turning it into a fortress completely isolated from the outside world.

The persistent, deathly silence of the diary began to strike Karen as something unusual. The fact that Tom Riddle's fragmented soul, with its cunning and greedy nature, remained so inactive for so long in the face of what seemed like "high-quality" prey seemed rather abnormal.

He wrote down another bait passage containing sensitive words like "basilisk," "Dumbledore," and "Potter." This time, the "Eye of Truth" clearly detected a violent fluctuation in the cold magical source within the diary, even triggering the emotional alarm he had set. However, the fluctuation only lasted a few seconds before being forcibly suppressed, and there was still no response.

Karen leaned back in her chair, tapping her fingertips lightly on the table. Conventional, gentle probing was clearly failing to break the deadlock. The other party was far more wary than expected. Perhaps it instinctively sensed something amiss? Or perhaps it had overheard something about itself, causing its suspicion?

This can't go on any longer. Since bribery isn't working, we should now resort to coercion.

Karen's eyes narrowed, and he made a decision. He closed the diary, picked it up, and placed it in the center of the workbench on a specially made silver-gray metal tray engraved with heat-insulating and energy-binding runes. This tray was an experimental platform he had made during his research on Dragonblood Alloy; it was capable of withstanding high temperatures for a short period. Although it couldn't protect against Fiendfire, Karen wasn't planning to burn the tray directly with Fiendfire; it was sufficient for holding something.

He took a deep breath, and the wand slid into his hand. His mind was highly focused, and his Occlumency spell was incredibly effective, shutting out all distractions and emotional fluctuations.

He raised his wand, pointing it above the tray, and began to chant the obscure and ancient incantation taught to him by Castor. Magic flowed from the tip of the wand, not with heat, but with a cold, all-consuming will.

A cluster of eerie blue flames appeared out of nowhere, no bigger than a fingernail, leaping erratically at the tip of the staff. It made no crackling sound; instead, it seemed to cause the surrounding air to collapse and freeze inward, yet it also distorted a terrifying illusion of intense heat.

Karen focused all her attention on this tiny flame, strictly controlling its shape and energy.

Under Karen's precise control, the nascent flame hovered just inches above the diary, its eerie blue light flickering and shimmering on the black cover, exuding an ominous aura. A surge of fear, rage, and disbelief, like a burst dam, finally erupted, fiercely assaulting Karen's consciousness!

This mental shock, cold and viscous, carrying seductive whispers and terrifying illusions, attempted to penetrate his mind. However, it crashed into the impenetrable wall constructed by the Occlumency Technique, failing to shake him in the slightest, except for allowing Karen to feel the intensity of its power and the extreme negative emotions it contained. But judging from Karen's own perception, the diary's power was indeed somewhat weakened, far less than that of the previous crown.

At the same time, the diary suddenly opened by itself, and on the blank pages, ink surged and twisted wildly, as if the writer's hand was trembling uncontrollably due to extreme fear, and a line of handwriting appeared hastily and chaotically:

Stop! Stop right now!

Karen's eyes were icy, her wand as steady as a rock. The cluster of eerie blue flames even drifted down another half inch, the intense heat causing the scorch marks on the diary cover to widen further, emitting a foul, burnt smell.

"Finally speaking?" Karen's voice was calm and emotionless, a stark contrast to the dangerous flames. "I thought you preferred being roasted, Tom Marvolo Riddell."

The diary trembled violently; the name clearly had an additional impact. The handwriting on the pages changed rapidly, becoming neater, but a trace of haste and lingering panic could still be seen between the lines:

This is an extremely dangerous and foolish force, young friend. You have no idea what you're playing with. We can communicate in a more civilized way. Put it down, and I can give you the knowledge and power you crave, far beyond your imagination.

Karen's lips curled into a barely perceptible, cold smile. Sure enough, it was the same old seductive trick; even under threat, she instinctively tried to regain control.

"Stop with your excuses." Karen interrupted him, her fiery gaze drawing a millimeter closer, the eerie blue light reflecting in his grey-blue pupils, chilling to the bone. "I know what you are—a pathetic, broken fragment of a soul trapped in a diary, barely clinging to life. Now, I'm asking the questions. And you have no right to bargain. Your previous silence has exhausted my patience."

The diary fell silent for a moment, seemingly assessing the situation and weighing Karen's resolve. The destructive aura emanating from the Fiendfire was undeniable, and the vessel it resided in was groaning in agony.

"What do you want to know?" The handwriting finally came out, revealing a sense of humiliation and vigilance.

"Why have you been silent all this time?" Karen asked his first question, which was also key to his subsequent strategy. "I've been writing for so many days, and you could clearly sense it, so why haven't you responded?"

The ink in the diary paused for a moment, as if it was organizing its thoughts.

Caution is a necessary survival rule, the words slowly emerged, especially for someone like me. I need to verify the aptitude and intentions of the person I'm contacting. And you, Karen Hawthorne, the level of magic you've displayed doesn't match the bewildered image you're trying to project. I've heard your name at the Weasleys', "Ravenclaw's genius," "Flitwick's darling," even—"the one who thwarted the Basilisk"? Would a wizard like that confide in an old diary about ordinary schoolwork and interpersonal troubles? It's too unnatural. I suspect this is a trap.

Karen suddenly understood. Ginny Weasley had heard about him and, to some extent, leaked information to the diary. It seemed Ginny had some contact with the diary, but perhaps only for simple journaling, without establishing a deeper connection. His previous disguise, in the face of someone who knew parts of his truth, indeed appeared riddled with flaws. He had underestimated the impact of the information gap, overlooking this point when designing his identity. Perhaps he should have used a completely fabricated identity from the beginning.

"So, you chose to remain silent because you thought my performance was 'clumsy'?" Karen's tone remained unchanged as she continued to press, "Even when I mentioned the Basilisk and Potter, you could still hold back?"

The temptation was great, the diary admitted, but the risk was even greater. Exposing oneself to a potential, mature adversary was far more dangerous than tempting a simple soul. "I'd rather wait for the next, more suitable holder." Until you used this—" The ink seemed to carry a fear of Fiendfire—this extreme power. It left me no choice.

"Very good." Karen pulled Fiend away a few centimeters, reducing its destructive heat slightly, but it still hovered above the diary, maintaining its constant threat. "It seems we can finally establish a more honest relationship. Remember this feeling, Tom. My patience is limited, and my questions need answers. Your survival depends on the stability of my wand."

"Understood." These two words appeared on the diary page, conveying a sense of extreme resentment coupled with helplessness.

Karen stared at the submissive handwriting, feeling no relief whatsoever. He knew this was just the beginning. Now that he had successfully pried open its mouth, the next step was to figure out how to extract something valuable from it while ensuring his own absolute safety.

He maintained the threat of Fiery Blaze and began to ask real questions.