Voldemort's Probe

As if answering Harry's expectations, a Bludger came flying in through the doors.

"Who's there?"

Harry swung his fist without thinking. With a loud crack, the Bludger shattered.

"Harry seems happy," Neville suddenly said.

"No. They're both smiles, but that's an unhappy expression," said Draco Malfoy, Harry's current chief lackey.

"Maybe you're both right," Ron replied absentmindedly, his mouth full.

"What nonsense are you talking about?" Bunny-Toothed Grand Scholar Hermione snapped shut Standard Book of Spells (Grade One). Their first class that afternoon was Charms.

In fact, Ron was right.

Harry realized that although the Bludger attack hadn't been an accident, it had nothing to do with the Slytherin students either.

It was House-elf magic.

—Dobby?

—No, that couldn't be. Lucius Malfoy's alliance with Dumbledore had even made the Daily Prophet.

—And the Hogwarts House-elves were even less likely to do it.

Harry's expression darkened.

"What a shame the Bludger didn't hit you."

Flint, dressed in silver and green Quidditch robes, strode into the Great Hall under the horrified gaze of the Slytherin students.

"Ten points from Slytherin!"

Snape's icy voice rang out.

Sirius, who had just started to rise, glared at Snape.

"Professor, you can check. We didn't do this." Flint revealed the source of his confidence. He believed that as long as he was innocent, he would be safe.

"One week of detention. One hour after Quidditch practice."

"That's not fair! You haven't even checked."

Flint's complaint was ignored. Snape didn't care in the slightest about so-called fairness.

The Slytherin students lowered their heads even further.

Harry's sincere smile was just about to bloom when his eyes darkened. —Snape, why are you sticking your nose into this?

Harry's bad mood followed him into Charms.

He still finished his work early and then took the initiative to help his classmates.

But today, he did it far more often.

"Raise your hand five centimeters."

"It's Wingardium Leviosa. Make the 'gar' long and clear."

"Shut up. It's not an 's.' Do you want to end up like Wizard Rufio, who summoned a bison by mistake?"

He corrected almost every student.

Hermione was no exception.

"The incantation isn't important, Miss Granger. You're not at their level. Try to grasp the feeling—the light, floating feeling—and give it to the feather. Just as you would with a Transfiguration Spell, but blurrier, more uninhibited. Imagine you're lying on a soft bed..."

"Very well said, Harry! Five points," said Professor Flitwick, who had to look up at Harry even while standing on his desk. "And Granger, one point to Gryffindor!"

He glanced cautiously at Harry.

"Everyone's making good progress already. According to the lesson plan I originally prepared, we wouldn't have learned the Levitation Charm until Halloween."

—Why am I the only one working this hard!

Harry instinctively thought, but wore a gracious smile. "It just shows that everyone has potential, doesn't it?"

That was a lie. It was the combined effect of Diplomacy's persuasive power, Grooming's charm, and the invisible force of Healing Fist driving away physical fatigue.

"You're quite right," Professor Flitwick said, wavering too. "Then next class, we'll study the Unlocking Charm and Locking Charm together."

After class, on the way to the library.

"Whenever class starts, Harry turns into someone who doesn't know any of us. He doesn't even call me Ron—he calls me Mr. Weasley." Ron complained. Harry wasn't there yet; Ron had already reached the library ahead of him.

He didn't realize how strange his complaint was. He was actually on his way to the library.

"Why does nobody listen to me?" Hermione said gloomily.

"You're just a classmate. Harry is Harry." Draco clasped his hands behind his back and spoke deliberately as if imparting some profound wisdom.

Crabbe and Goyle said nothing.

"Harry's doing this for our sake. I even managed to cast the spell," Neville said, a hint of confidence in his round face as he rubbed the wand he'd inherited from his father.

This, too, was wisdom from Harry's dad's other world. Harry had incorporated the technique of making wands from specimens—in other words, Pufferfish Jerky—and reforged Neville's wand with some of Neville's hair mixed in.

That had gained him one point of proficiency and ten experience points.

Otherwise, Neville's magic would still have worked only sporadically.

"Every time I see Harry's wand...I can hardly believe it can actually be used to cast spells." Ron stopped walking. He had reached the library entrance.

Above the densely packed bookshelves, Harry hung upside down from the ceiling, waving his Metal Wand. Open books revolved around him like planets orbiting a sun.

Meanwhile, inside the Defense Against the Dark Arts Office.

A mass of pitch-black mist, so dark it seemed to swallow light itself, circled Quirrell.

"Harry Potter is growing more and more dangerous. You must find a way to eliminate him in advance!"

"Master, I...?"

The Slytherin retaliation Harry had been waiting for was being plotted.

But this Slytherin had graduated nearly fifty years ago.

He had even lost his body.

"Of course you can't do it. But if..."

The moment the words fell, Quirrell felt as if his head were splitting apart.

"Master...please, have mercy..."

He curled up on the floor. An intricate rune appeared on his bald head.

"Fool, I'm not trying to kill you."

"You're lucky—very lucky to temporarily possess Slytherin's Signature Ability."

"You've been granted an honor no other Death Eater has received: entry into the Chamber of Secrets, created by the greatest of the Four Founders."

"I want you to awaken the sleeping Millennium Basilisk. It will complete the task for me."

"Perhaps..."

Voldemort didn't continue.

The reason was connected to what was happening in the Headmaster's Office.

Dumbledore was writing in a diary.

Oddly, he was sitting a long way from it, with a Bubble-Head Charm around his head like an upside-down fishbowl. A quill hovered above the Silver Diary.

It wrote by itself in Dumbledore's distinctive looping script.

[Tom, what do you think your main body will do when he discovers that I haven't touched the Chamber of Secrets?]

[Professor Dumbledore, he'll try to activate the Basilisk. His target will most likely be Harry Potter, to test his strength and whether you destroyed me. My main body created too many Horcruxes to be sure he could sense my destruction.]

Another line of elegant writing appeared on its own. Its ink was browner and much thicker.

Dumbledore's reason for not writing by hand became clear.

A part of Peter Pettigrew was still alive inside the diary, churning along with the ink.

[I think I understand why you insisted on killing Peter. It really was a great humiliation.]

[%^&*(*$@)...]

The elegant writing abruptly became messy, turning into gibberish.

"Poor Tom."

Dumbledore crossed his hands. The quill burned to ash by itself, and the diary snapped shut, landing neatly in a pot of Dark Green Ink.

"I hope this helps."

He strode toward the spiral staircase at the exit, his steps much lighter.

Elsewhere, Harry was thinking.

—I've searched the Chamber of Secrets, the Forbidden Forest, the Black Lake, even the Room of Requirement. I've checked every single spot.

—Where on earth is Ravenclaw's Diadem?

He really was reading, even several books at once.

None of them were suitable for an ordinary first-year student. Hermione herself would have needed to study some of them carefully.

Even so, he had time to think.

He was thinking about how to find Ravenclaw's Diadem, which had been moved.

It shouldn't have been this difficult.

As long as he was within a certain distance, the Horcrux he'd made—the Sith Sword Hilt—would sense it.

—Maybe...a new talent trait will help me?

The Savior Training Manual appeared and flipped open by itself.

His gaze settled on a glimmer of gold: a reward he hadn't claimed yet.