"I will punish everyone who looks down on me!"
As soon as Miles Bulstrode etched those words onto the blank page, the ink began to sink, then vanish—letter by letter—until the parchment was clean again, as if nothing had been written at all.
He stared.
A flicker of nervousness stirred in his chest. Was it cursed? Enchanted? A prank?
But before he could pull away, words began to reappear on the page—slowly, deliberately, like a whisper drawn in ink:
"I can give you the strength and power to punish those who look down on you."
The moment he read the line, something changed.
The words didn't just sit idly on the page—they seemed to breathe, to pulse with a strange, alluring energy. It was as if the diary had spoken directly to him. And suddenly, despite every warning drilled into him as a pure-blood wizard, Miles found he couldn't look away.
He knew what this was. Knew what it meant. Items that responded with a will of their own were dangerous—dark.Any trained pure-blood heir would've been taught the same rule: Discard it. Don't speak to it. Report it to someone stronger—someone in control.
But Miles didn't move.
His hands gripped the sides of the book. His eyes were locked on the page. And slowly, with a dry mouth and a heartbeat pounding behind his ears, he dipped his quill once more.
"I am Miles … Miles Bulstrode, the future heir of the Bulstrode family. Who are you?"
There was a pause.
Then, smoothly, elegantly, the diary wrote back:
"Hello, future heir of the Bulstrode family. My name is Tom Riddle—and I am your friend. A friend who can help you fulfill your wish."
Miles felt the weight of those words settle into his chest. His doubts thinned, swept away by the sudden promise blooming inside him.
"Grant my wish?" he wrote next.
"That's right," the diary responded."I can help you take revenge on those who scorn you. I can give you power beyond your imagination. I can make you greater than them all… as long as you cooperate with me—sincerely."
Miles Bulstrode stared at the diary. By now, whatever resistance had flickered within him had all but faded. The allure was too strong, the promises too tempting. He picked up his quill again, this time with eagerness, his hand moving quickly across the page.
"What kind of cooperation do you want? You're just a diary—why should I believe you can actually do any of that?"
For a moment, the page remained still. Then, in that now-familiar, elegant script, words unfurled again:
"You only need to follow my instructions… and you can have everything you desire."
Miles's eyes stayed locked on the page, his mind spinning with possibility—power, revenge, respect. His grip on the quill tightened as he leaned in closer, fully engrossed.
He didn't notice the faint creak of the floorboards behind him.
Didn't hear the soft exhale in the shadows of his room.
Didn't feel the watchful gaze fixed on him from the darkness.
A pair of eyes, cool and unblinking, peered from the partially drawn curtain by the door. Their owner said nothing, did nothing—only observed. The silence was absolute, the moment stretched and fragile.
Then, quietly, deliberately, the hidden observer slipped out.
The door eased shut behind them with the faintest of clicks.
And Miles never noticed a thing.
----------
Sean slipped into his dorm room, the Disillusionment Charm melting off his skin like water sliding off glass. The chill of invisibility faded, replaced by the familiar hum of the castle around him.
If they dared send someone to kill him, then he'd respond in kind. Only his retaliation would be far crueler.
You want to play games with me? Fine. Let's see how you handle your own son being possessed by a Horcrux.Let's see what happens when the Chamber of Secrets is opened again—only this time, by your heir.Let's see how proud the Bulstrode name sounds when it's spoken beside words like "murderer" and "monster."
He would collect interest first. The real blow could wait.
And still, a part of him couldn't help but marvel—Miles fell so easily.
Sean had known the diary was dangerous. He had expected it to take time to wear Miles down. After all, even Ginny Weasley, innocent and kind, had taken weeks to succumb in the original timeline.
But Miles Bulstrode?
He was already speaking with it as if it were his closest confidant.
Was his mind truly that weak? Or was it that the bitterness, the resentment, and that festering hunger for validation had long since hollowed him out? Whatever the reason, the diary had found a crack—and slipped in without resistance.
Sean couldn't decide whether to feel pleased that things were accelerating so quickly… or disturbed by just how easily it had happened.
On the other hand, the diary realized that it had been fooled by the guy who called himself Draco Malfoy. Naturally, the diary was extremely angry about this. It wanted to catch that guy immediately and kill him with its own hands—but now was not the time for that.
The person who had obtained it now had an extremely weak willpower, even weaker than Ginny's before. He was just right for the diary to control and carry out its plan. Once the plan succeeded, and it was resurrected into a human body, that would be the time to find the one who called himself Draco Malfoy and make him pay the price!