Shawn stared at the words he had written, waiting for Tom's response, but nothing happened for ages.
Shawn was so annoyed that he laughed.
Was Tom really going to keep digging in his heels until he hit a dead end?
Voldemort had been remarkably good at lying low in his youth. No wonder Dumbledore had done little about him despite noticing his ambition.
The name Voldemort really did suit him.
Shawn simply took out his wand, pointed it at the Diary, and cast a spell.
"Fiendfyre!"
A fist-sized ball of Fiendfyre appeared at his wand tip, sizzling as it burned the air. Its fiery glow bathed the Diary in red, as though the flames might lick its pages at any moment.
Sure enough, the Diary began trembling violently a moment later. The passage Shawn had written quickly vanished, replaced by new words.
"Hello, Theodore Nott."
Sure enough, if you couldn't wake someone pretending to sleep, all you had to do was throw a bucket of water over them. Anyone who doubted it could try it themselves.
Shawn smiled, extinguished the Fiendfyre, and put away his wand before writing again.
"Tom Riddle, you're finally willing to talk?"
Tom: Sorry. The Wizarding World has certain misconceptions about magical objects that can talk. I was only protecting myself. I'm merely a simple memory. Think of me as something like the Sorting Hat.
Shawn shook his head with a chuckle. Still pretending?
He couldn't be bothered to write anymore and asked aloud instead.
"Cut the nonsense. You're a Horcrux, with an actual soul. Tell me, when did you realize something was wrong? I shouldn't have given myself away."
This time, Tom remained silent for quite a while before words appeared in the Diary.
Tom: You chose the wrong person to impersonate. I know the