After returning to the castle, Douglas indulged in a long, hot shower. A quick glance at the Marauder's Map confirmed that Dumbledore was still in his office.
Clutching the diary, Douglas made his way to the entrance of the Headmaster's office. He stood before the imposing stone gargoyle and, with no clue what the password might be, simply started making things up.
"Iced lemon juice!"
"Cockroach Cluster!"
"Acid Pops?"
"Toffee Fingers?"
"Fizzing Whizzbees?"
On and on he went, rattling off every sweet he could remember—even tossing in a few hotpot ingredients for good measure. The stone guardian didn't budge.
He even tried a Sound Transmission Charm—a spell he'd invented himself, inspired by the Patronus Messenger charm Dumbledore had created for the Order of the Phoenix. But the Headmaster's office was shielded with the highest-level protections; no matter what he tried, he couldn't get a response or locate Dumbledore.
Disappointed, Douglas sighed. He'd hoped to share this fresh, explosive news with Dumbledore right away, but the door refused to yield.
Yelling wouldn't help—the office was on the eighth floor, the entrance on the third. He could shout himself hoarse and still not be heard.
"Forget it," he muttered. "Might as well head to the kitchens for a midnight snack."
He turned to leave, but after only two steps, a sudden impulse made him spin back around. He tried again:
"Dragon's Beard Candy?"
"Wife Cake?"
He barely finished speaking when, with a grinding sound, the stone gargoyle leapt aside. The wall behind it split open, revealing the spiraling staircase ascending into the darkness.
Douglas didn't hesitate. He jumped onto the stairs as they began to rotate upward, but a sudden chill ran down his spine. He could've sworn that last password was pure nonsense—he'd never expected it to work. If memory served, "Wife Cake" was the gift he'd brought Dumbledore during his interview.
Why would that be the password? Was Dumbledore waiting for him specifically?
The staircase deposited him at the Headmaster's door. He quickly composed himself and pushed open the gleaming oak door—it swung open easily this time.
Inside, the office was empty. There was no sign of Dumbledore waiting with a legion of axe-wielding guards (not that he'd need them). Instead, the portraits lining the walls stirred, some grumbling as if they'd never truly slept.
"Thief! There's a thief in the Headmaster's office in the middle of the night!" bellowed Phineas Nigellus.
The other headmasters disagreed. "Phineas, if he got in, he must have Albus's password. He's not a thief."
Fawkes the phoenix, perched on his stand, looked ancient and weary, as if he were on his last legs. Nearby, a jar of ultra-spicy sauce sat open, and Fawkes occasionally dipped his beak in with little enthusiasm. When he saw Douglas enter, he barely gave him a glance.
Just then, Dumbledore appeared on the side staircase, dressed in a nightgown and yawning.
"Good evening, Douglas. I heard the door open. I suppose you've guessed the password."
Douglas grinned. "Aha, Professor, I see you're reminding me that gifts shouldn't be a one-time thing, eh? Ha!"
Phineas, who had been feigning sleep, now erupted again. "See? I told you! He's a thief—no password, trying to bribe the Headmaster…"
The other headmasters' portraits hurried to hush him, clapping hands over his mouth.
Ignoring the commotion, Douglas and Dumbledore exchanged a knowing smile. Douglas pulled the battered diary from his bag and set it on the desk, discreetly tucking the bag into his pocket—he'd rather Dumbledore not realize it was a transfigured branch from the Forbidden Forest.
"Good evening, Professor. I came across something today that I thought you ought to see."
Dumbledore eyed the ruined diary, frowning. When Douglas nodded, he seemed to realize this was likely the very object they'd been searching for.
Drawing his wand, Dumbledore examined the diary, bending low to scrutinize the few legible letters left on the cover. Straightening, he adjusted his glasses and fixed Douglas with a serious look.
"Tom Riddle?"
Douglas nodded, launching into a sincere explanation. "Yes. When Miss Luna Lovegood brought me this diary, I immediately noticed the name. I remembered Professor Snape had once asked about 'Tom Marvolo Riddle,' so I wondered if this could be Voldemort's real name…"
Dumbledore seemed satisfied and gestured for Douglas to sit, conjuring a cup of hot tea for him.
"You guessed correctly. That was indeed his former name… But as I recall, Miss Lovegood is only a first-year. She shouldn't have the power to destroy such an artifact. From the magical traces left, I sense this was once a very powerful magical object. As for how Miss Lovegood came by Tom's property, I have some ideas. But why did she choose to give it to you? And how did she get it in the first place?"
Douglas took a sip of tea, appearing perfectly at ease. "It's simple, really. Miss Lovegood thought I needed it, so she brought it to me…"
Dumbledore popped a Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Bean into his mouth, his expression suggesting the flavor wasn't half bad. At Douglas's answer, he looked genuinely puzzled.
Douglas couldn't help but chuckle inwardly—he'd had the same reaction when Luna explained it to him.
He continued, "According to Miss Lovegood, the day after we visited the Ravenclaw common room, she received this diary by owl post. That matches what we suspected. Later, whenever she wrote in the diary, she'd get a reply. During that time, the diary kept asking her about me and her father, Xenophilius Lovegood—the editor of The Quibbler. After careful consideration, Miss Lovegood decided to hand this mysterious diary over to me…
Honestly, I think Miss Lovegood's actions as a Hogwarts student were exemplary. She sensed the danger, analyzed the situation calmly, and sought help from a professor when she needed it. That's exactly the sort of quality we want in Hogwarts students, wouldn't you agree, Professor?"
Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, chewing thoughtfully on his candy as he listened to Douglas's story. Clearly, he hadn't expected the conversation to take this turn.
"Ah, yes, I quite agree, Douglas. I sincerely hope every Hogwarts student could be as perceptive and level-headed as Miss Lovegood… But that's not our main topic tonight. Please, go on. What happened next? Why is the diary in this state?"
Douglas took another sip of tea and continued, "Well, after that, I followed Miss Lovegood's suggestion and started writing in the diary. I asked if he was Voldemort. It was just a casual probe, but to my surprise, he replied directly. Claimed he was the greatest wizard in history—Lord Voldemort, of course. I can't say I agree with that assessment.
He seemed very weak, desperate for my help. He promised that if I opened the Chamber of Secrets and released the basilisk, he'd teach me powerful Dark Magic—even the secret to immortality. He said I could lead the Death Eaters, become his right hand. He told me only he could open the Chamber, as Salazar Slytherin's heir, and only his Parseltongue could unlock it.
Naturally, I refused every offer. I've always believed you, Professor, are the greatest wizard."
Douglas wore an expression of earnest pride, as if to say: everyone wants to recruit me, but in the end, I chose you.
~~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~~
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