Simultaneously traversing: the pinnacle of all realms

After Xavier left, the principal's office remained quiet for a long time.

Dumbledore sat behind his desk, a book in his hand, with an old black-covered diary open in front of him and a pile of open books around him.

The candlelight flickered, and most of the portraits of past headmasters had fallen asleep, except for Armando Dippet—the previous headmaster of Hogwarts—who was still in the frame, gazing at the things on the table with his cloudy eyes.

Tom Riddle's response had vanished completely from the open diary, as if it had never existed.

From the outside, it looked like an ordinary old diary. The cover was worn, the pages were yellowed, and there were no traces of dark magic. If it weren't for the student's innate bloodline sensing danger, even he himself would have ignored it.

It might be treated as an ordinary secondhand item, sitting on a bookstore shelf for another fifty years. Or worse—it might be opened by some unsuspecting wizard.

Horcruxes.

This diary was subjected to an extremely secretive black magic ritual fifty years ago, a forbidden magic that, at the cost of murder, split the soul and seal it in an external object.

Dumbledore looked at the detailed description of the magic—in the book in his hand, a book called "The Secrets of the Dark Arts."

He just used the principal's authority to remove this book from the restricted section of the library.

The young Tom Riddle apparently found and read it in the restricted section.

And then what did he do?

Dumbledore tapped his fingers lightly on the cover of his diary, thinking about what had happened back then.

In 1943, a shocking incident occurred at Hogwarts—a Ravenclaw girl named Moaninger Warren was found dead in the girls' lavatory on the second floor.

The cause of death was never determined and was broadly classified by the Ministry of Magic as a "monster attack".

Hagrid was suspected of murder because of Tom Riddle's accusation—the big boy was keeping an eight-eyed spider as a pet. Had it not been for Dumbledore's intervention, he would have been sent to Azkaban.

Dumbledore never believed Hagrid was the murderer, especially since the girl didn't die from the eight-eyed spider.

But at the time, he never doubted the young Tom.

Myrtle's death, the magic that creates Horcruxes, and this diary—all these fragments finally pieced together tonight to form a complete picture.

Sixteen years old.

A fifth-grade student.

While other children were cheering for Quidditch matches and worrying about final exams, Tom Riddle had already committed his first murder with a life, and then used the Horcrux-making method to seal fragments of his soul into this diary.

Dumbledore took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingertips.

His face rarely showed signs of fatigue, but at this moment, illuminated by the candlelight, his deep blue eyes finally revealed weariness.

It's not anger.

The anger has long since subsided.

Dumbledore recalled the scene decades earlier when he first met the neatly dressed, well-spoken boy at Wood's Orphanage.

His hair was jet-black, his eyes were black, his face was pale, and his features were very handsome, very good-looking, and so pretty. He did not show any arrogance or aggression.

As an exceptionally gifted and handsome orphan, he attracted the attention and sympathy of the teachers almost immediately upon arriving at school. He appeared polite and quiet, and had an insatiable thirst for knowledge.

He remembered the boy's first appearance as he walked into the Great Hall of Hogwarts. The smile that flashed across that young face when the Sorting Hat called out "Slytherin." He remembered his quick wit in Charms class, his precise and elegant spellcasting in Transfiguration class, and his ability to read complex recipes at a glance in Potions class.

He recalled the child's impeccable politeness when he met him.

Almost everyone had a good impression of him.

But Dumbledore was different; he sensed something in the boy's eyes, and thus felt a vague unease.

He thought he had done his best to guide and teach, and he thought he had succeeded—but in the end, he still couldn't change anything.

In the years that followed, that unease gradually turned into vigilance, into caution, and into an investigation that lasted for half a century.

He refused Tom Riddle's offer to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts and, after Voldemort's rise to power, founded the Order of the Phoenix. Over the years, he watched his former student gradually transform into a monster whose name no one in the wizarding world dared to utter.

The anger had long since been exhausted.

Now, all that's left is one emotion—disappointment.

A sense of disappointment in oneself.

Hogwarts has had dangerous dark wizards on more than one occasion, and every house has had one.

But Tom Riddell was clearly different.

Dumbledore put his glasses back on his nose, picked up his wand, and gently tapped the cover of the diary—he had thought that Tom Riddle had become so evil because he had been exposed to too much darkness during the ten years he traveled after graduation.

But now, the existence of this diary tells Dumbledore—he was already Voldemort in school. The polite, talented Slytherin prefect and student council president, and the later cruel, ruthless, and fearsome Dark Lord, were always the same person.

This diary will never go anywhere again.

He will, at the right time, use something capable of destroying Horcruxes to make them disappear from the world completely.

As for the other Horcruxes—

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, his gaze passing over the silverware on the table and looking out at the dark night sky.

If Tom Riddle—no—Voldemort had already created his first Horcrux at the age of sixteen, then it's impossible that he only made that one in the years that followed.

The splitting of the soul is not the goal, but a means—the goal is immortality and resurrection. A person who longs to escape death will not be satisfied with just one Horcrux.

Just like his name—Voldemort, flying away from death.

This means that there are even more Horcruxes in existence.

He already had a vague idea of ​​the direction of the investigation in mind.

For example, Voldemort's fragmented soul infiltrated the area last year; his goal might not have been just the Philosopher's Stone...

After finishing his thoughts, Dumbledore tapped his wand lightly.

The diary on the table slowly rose, enveloped in countless silver rays of light, and then floated towards the cabinet behind him. The cabinet door opened, and the diary quietly slid inside, landing next to "The Secrets of Cutting-Edge Black Magic."

The cabinet door closed, and the latch made a crisp click.

-

Outside the window, the direction of the Forbidden Forest was pitch black, and a few sparse stars were reflected on the surface of the Black Lake.

This castle has stood for over a thousand years, witnessing countless geniuses and madmen, heroes and demons walk through its corridors.

Voldemort is the most dangerous of them all.

Everything that began on his path was accomplished within this castle, as a student.

During those years, almost everyone was deceived by his gentle and polite appearance.

Including Dumbledore himself.