Chapter 5: Black Diaries (2)

Written on the white page:"What do you want from me?"There was no tone, no voice… just dry words on the blank page.Yet I felt them.Anger. Fear. Anxiety.As if the ink bled those feelings from the very heart of the diary.

– "No need to worry, Tom. As long as you cooperate… you don't think I'm going to eat you or anything, do you?"I said this, sarcasm slipping into my voice against my will. He didn't reply. No new words appeared.I turned the page and continued speaking.– "Tell me, Tom… have you ever felt remorse for anything?"The ink appeared quickly, sharply:"Remorse is for the weak.The strong do not regret—they plan and execute."

Gilderoy stared at the words for a long time. He didn't seem moved; on the contrary, his smile widened slightly.– "I won't argue with you on that now, for that's not my question. What I mean is… haven't you ever wished for another chance? To be born into a family that cares for you, away from the orphanage?In a peaceful place, with no war, no bombs falling on your roof every evening?To have companions you trust… not followers who bow to you?"

Silence fell. Then the ink exploded:"I never and will never wish for any of that.Wishing… is for the weak.The orphanage taught me the truth.And the war—the war showed me what I want.I don't need friends, I need followers.I am Lord Voldemort."

I didn't hesitate, and I said quietly:– "Really, Tom? Are you being sincere now?"

One word was written:"Of course."

I laughed a short, sarcastic laugh.– "Hmm… seems you're deceiving yourself now."

The response came quickly this time, as if the pages themselves were gasping:"What do you mean?I am Lord Voldemort; I don't need to deceive myself."

– "But you do. Because I—unfortunately—was smarter than you expected, and I did my homework.I know you were born in the muggle orphanage, during wartime, under the administration of a corrupt woman named Mrs. Cole, who stole donations and left the children fighting for food.And you were weak at first. You were beaten, your food was taken, your only toy was yanked from your hands.Until a day came… and your magic awoke.And you became… instead of the victim, the executioner."

The diary did not reply.

– "Then you came to Hogwarts, thinking you'd found paradise.But you discovered that pureblood mattered more than genius.And that the new bullies needed no muscles, only magical lineage.And Slughorn, your head of house, ignored everything.Because the bullies were pureblood.And you… were not."

The pages remained still, no ink stirring.

– "And when it was time to return for the holidays… Dumbledore refused to leave you in the wizarding world.He gave you a ticket back to the orphanage, to the war, to fear.You, the only child he knew might die in his sleep from a muggle bomb that wasn't even meant for you."

A heavy silence. But this time, it was not ignorance or dismissal.It was a wounded silence, familiar, aged but still painful.

– "You know, Tom?A philosopher once said we're all born as one self.But environment shapes us.If we split the same person in two, each half left in a different world, they'd become two entirely different people."

I stood and closed the diary slowly.

– "And I'm here… to give you a new environment.A chance. A fresh start.I'm not here to erase you, Tom… but to show you how you can be reshaped."

Then the ink appeared on its own, as if that voice inside had been waiting for years:"Why do you want to help me?And how will you do that?"

Lockhart considered the question, then smiled. It wasn't a happy smile, but tired, realistic.– "I could say I want to end Voldemort forever…Or that I can't bear to see a child suffer like that again…Or that I believe in second chances…But the truth?It's just a whim."

The response appeared in the diary quickly, and signs of disbelief jumped from every letter:"Just a whim?!"

Lockhart laughed, sarcastically:– "Yes, just a whim.I know it's hard to believe… but it's the truth."

"Then what's the cost? And how will you do it?"Tom wrote in the diary.

– "There is no cost. Don't worry."

Lockhart replied calmly as the ink appeared again:"I do this on a whim. You don't have to pay anything."

"And how will we do this?"

– "We'll alter your memories."

No reply appeared. No new words. Tom must have expected that in advance.But Lockhart didn't stop:

– "Don't worry, we won't wipe everything. We'll temporarily seal your original memories.Then we'll activate rituals I've invented—rituals that steal memories from a fictional alternate timeline created by the rituals themselves.Those memories will be planted in the sealed place.The seal will end automatically when you turn thirty."

He tilted his head slightly, then asked calmly:– "Do you have any objections so far?"

The words appeared on the page:"No problem so far."

– "Good. In this alternate world… I'll be your adoptive father.I adopted you from Wood orphanage when you were two years old, before the bullying started."

"Why Wood orphanage? Why not any other orphanage?"The words were ordinary—but Lockhart felt something strange… a suppressed, hidden sadness leaking between the lines.

– "Because it's better for the alternate world to be as close as possible to reality.The more realistic it is, the more successful the rituals will be."He said it without expression, as if talking about a complex potion recipe.

– "Anyway, let's continue.In the illusory world, you'll show your first accidental magic at age eight.You'll begin home schooling at eleven but will remain confined at home for a year and a half due to magical rituals that enhance your innate talents."

He paused for a moment, then continued:

– "Is there any problem with that?"

Simple words appeared on the page:"No problem. Continue."

Lockhart sat more comfortably, then said:

– "Let's talk about the upbringing style I gave you:I taught you not to deprive yourself of anything. To be confident, not beneath anyone.You have a monthly allowance to spend as you wish.But at the start of each month, I review your spending.If your expenses were useful, your allowance increases.And if they were consumptive or harmful—like high-fat fast food—it decreases.I taught you not to belittle anyone, regardless of blood status.And if you do something wrong—like bullying someone—you'll stand in the corner for thirty minutes without a break.If you repeat the mistake a second time, your budget shrinks.And in the third, you lose your entire allowance… and receive a physical punishment."

He paused, then Tom's words appeared on the page:

"Be honest with me… if I had a problem with your parenting style, would you really change it?"

Lockhart smiled simply, without hesitation:

– "No, I'd just give you the illusion of freedom."

"Then… no."The page wrote simply.And Lockhart was sure Tom's anger boiled behind that single word.

– "Anyway, as soon as the year and a half of confinement—which is supposed to be over—ends, I'll take you to Hogwarts.There, the memories of the alternate world will end."

The words appeared:"When do we begin?"

– "The memory ritual components are ready at my home, but the body-building ritual components are not yet.Once I have them, we'll begin.Until then, I'll seal you with the seals, and I'll lift the seal before the rituals start."

"Why? I thought we had an agreement."Lockhart smiled sarcastically as he wrote:

– "We do, Tom.But don't think I'll lessen my caution toward you… until after the rituals are complete.Good night, Tommy."

The diary remained silent for a long moment… before words appeared slowly, as if pulled from the shards of a wounded soul:

"Good night… Father."