Wes's voice cut through the silence, cold and sharp like a winter wind:
"Mr. Malfoy, we all know who you are."
His movements were slow and deliberate. With a light flick of his wand, he pulled back the long sleeve on Lucius's left arm.
As the sleeve fell, the Dark Mark—once the symbol of terror—was exposed to the open air.
Lucius instinctively covered it with his hand, a mix of emotions flickering across his face—anger, fear, and a trace of embarrassment at having his secret laid bare. He glared at Wes as if trying to burn him with his eyes.
"You're afraid, Death Eater," Wes said calmly, but his voice carried an undeniable pressure. "What are you afraid of?"
He raised an eyebrow. "Your master is about to return. Why the fear?"
There was a hint of amusement in his tone, as though he was savoring the psychological game unfolding before him.
"Serving someone that volatile can't be easy, can it? Always on edge, wondering if you'll be the next one to die."
Wes's words pierced straight into Lucius's heart like arrows, making his chest tighten.
Lucius stared wide-eyed at Wes, unsure how he could so accurately read his thoughts.
"It's not hard to guess," Wes said, picking up the diary and gently brushing its cover. The tenderness of his action was in stark contrast to the sharpness of his words. "This Horcrux was made by Voldemort when he was just sixteen. With his ambition and personality, there's no way this is the only one."
Wes locked eyes with Lucius, exuding a confidence that left no room for doubt.
"Mr. Malfoy, do you know how a Horcrux is made?"
Lucius shook his head violently, like a cornered animal.
"You kill someone, split your soul, and bind the fragment into any object of your choosing." Wes's voice was disturbingly casual, as if describing something trivial.
"Sounds simple, doesn't it?" He gave a slight smirk, full of mockery.
Lucius didn't dare respond. He was terrified.
"There have been countless dark wizards who knew how to make Horcruxes throughout history, but do you know why so few of them actually did?"
Wes's eyes narrowed as he posed the sharp question.
Lucius remained silent, only continuing to shake his head.
Dumbledore, on the other hand, looked intrigued. He clearly wanted to hear how Wes viewed Horcruxes.
"Have either of you heard of schizophrenia?" Wes continued without waiting for a response.
"Simply put, it's when someone's mind fractures, creating separate personalities—some old, some young…"
Thanks to Wes's explanation, the two didn't fully understand, but they got the gist—this was what people called madness.
"If the splitting of the mind can have such severe consequences, what about the soul?" Wes's voice suddenly rose several notches. "Do you think splitting one's soul comes without a price?"
Each word he spoke seemed to press down on them like a heavy weight. "Wasn't Voldemort becoming more irritable toward the end? Less able to control his emotions? More extreme in everything?"
Though it sounded like Wes was asking Lucius, his tone left no room for argument.
Lucius nodded. It was exactly as Wes described—Voldemort had changed from a brilliant and visionary leader into a paranoid, erratic tyrant.
Every day around him was filled with unease and fear. Everyone tiptoed with their words, terrified a single misstep could bring fatal consequences.
"Voldemort split his soul too many times," Wes sneered. "A stupid move. A whole soul carries you further on the path of magic. His future is cut off—he'll never advance again."
Dumbledore nodded in agreement. "Even the most ruthless dark wizards wouldn't split their souls lightly."
"I think Voldemort was too young at the time. He hadn't yet touched on the deeper aspects of magic. As soon as he discovered how to make a Horcrux, he rushed to create this diary… and sealed his fate."
There was a hint of pity in Wes's voice.
"Young wizards often stray from the right path for many reasons," Dumbledore said with regret. "Had I not been so biased, had I guided him properly… perhaps he could've become a brilliant Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Maybe even the next headmaster."
"Please. He was murdering people undetected by sixteen—that kind of mind isn't something education can fix."
Wes dismissed the notion without hesitation.
As the two freely criticized Voldemort, Lucius sat beside them as if on a bed of nails, wishing he were deaf.
"Oh—sorry," Wes said at last, seeming to notice Lucius's discomfort. "We're talking so openly about your master. Hope you don't mind?" he added with a mocking glance.
What could Lucius say?
He wanted to fire off an Avada Kedavra, but only dared think it.
All he could do was force a bitter smile.
"In the end, thanks to all this soul-splitting, Voldemort has become a lunatic—and a violent one at that. And you, Mr. Malfoy, gave his most important Horcrux to his greatest enemy. What do you think he'll do to you?"
Wes's tone hardened as he threatened Lucius again.
Lucius looked like he was about to cry. Still, he put on a brave front: "I… I believe he'll listen to my explanation…"
His voice grew softer and softer—even he didn't believe what he was saying.
"Alright. You've got three options." Wes held up three fingers.
"First, admit that you owned the diary. Naturally, you'll be sent to Azkaban. Maybe when your master returns, he'll break you out. Let's just hope you haven't lost your mind by then."
Wes's face was expressionless.
At the thought of Dementors, Lucius immediately shook his head. He knew he'd be driven insane in less than a month.
"Second, deny the diary is yours. The Malfoy name might shield you from direct punishment, but we'll let it slip that you lost something very precious to Voldemort."
Lucius shook his head again.
"Then there's only one path left: defect."
The moment Wes said it, Lucius jumped up, shouting, "You're asking me to die!!"
Wes had pretended to offer choices, but was clearly forcing him to betray Voldemort.
"If he finds out, he'll kill me—and my family!"
Lucius had seen firsthand what Voldemort did to traitors. He didn't want to share their fate.
"He won't find out, will he?"
"You want me to be a spy?!" Lucius backed away in panic. "No way—don't even think about it!" His hands were clenched tight in trembling fists.
"Calm down, Mr. Malfoy." Wes's voice softened. "Only by staying calm can you make the right decision."
Dumbledore thoughtfully handed Lucius a cup of tea, hoping to ease the tension. But to Lucius, it looked more poisonous than any venom.
After an intense internal struggle, Lucius finally took the cup—and downed it in one go, as if bracing himself for the worst.