"You need to play a role. The same role you played before. A talking diary. One that chats with people, teaches them their lessons, wears them out, makes them reluctant to hand it over. You need to find Harry Potter. You need to talk to him. You need to make him believe you're helping him."
The soul fragment's consciousness stirred between the pages, like a fish hauled out of the water and left on the bank, still struggling to twist its body. "I-I can do that. I've done it before. Ginny Weasley, Harry Potter, they both-"
"I said 'play a role.'" Madara's voice did not change, but the soul fragment's voice was snuffed out. Not interrupted, but snuffed out, as though someone had pinched a burning candlewick between their fingers. The flame was gone, but smoke still rose.
"You don't need to improvise. You say what I tell you to say. You do what I tell you to do."
The soul fragment fell silent for half a second. "Yes."
Madara leaned back in his chair, his right leg crossed over his left. His fingers tapped lightly on the armrest, one tap after another. "You need to reveal certain things at the right moment. Not too early, not too late. Make Harry feel he discovered them himself. Not that you told him. That he pieced them together from your words, from your handwriting, from the fragments you occasionally let slip. Make him feel he's in control."
The soul fragment's consciousness stirred again. This time it was not fear, but something more complicated-a cautious stirring that seemed to say, "I understand," with a hint of eagerness to please. "I could-I could absorb his blood. Not much. One drop would be enough. Hidden in the pages, where he wouldn't notice. Then I could