“What’s wrong? What happened?” Harry’s voice echoed from behind Ron.

Without turning around, Ron responded, “It’s nothing. Ginny left something in the library, and I’m going to retrieve it. I’m a bit concerned about her. You can head back; I’ll join her and be back soon.”

Not taking Ron’s words too seriously, Harry offered a reminder, “Make it quick; curfew is approaching, and Hogwarts isn’t very safe at night now.”

Ron nodded in agreement and swiftly exited the Gryffindor common room. Once outside, he spotted Ginny’s retreating figure, vanishing around the corridor’s corner. Observing Ginny’s departure, Ron mumbled softly, “Ginny?! You never called me brother in the first place. Now you are telling me you could pass through walls?!”

With a furrowed brow, Ron followed her carefully and swiftly.

Meanwhile, Cassandra secured Ginny’s notebook and promptly located Wentworth, who had been waiting outside. Handing over the notebook, Cassandra emphasized, “Wentworth, there’s something peculiar about this notebook. The moment I held it, a voice in my heart insisted that opening it would grant me everything I desire!”

Upon hearing Cassandra’s words, Wentworth couldn’t help but frown, cautioning, “Fortunately, you didn’t open it. This notebook is, in fact, one of Voldemort’s Horcruxes.”

Puzzled, Cassandra muttered, “Horcrux? I feel like I’ve heard this name somewhere.”

After Wentworth explained the concept of Horcruxes to Cassandra, he solemnly added, “Don’t entertain the idea of creating a Horcrux. Even if successful, the cost is steep.”

In response to Wentworth’s warning, Cassandra scoffed, saying, “Wentworth, I thought you’d moved beyond simplistic notions of good and evil. Let’s focus on the advantages and disadvantages.”

Observing her self-assured demeanor and even glancing at the diary now transformed into a Horcrux, Wentworth harbored a sense of foreboding. Urgently, he advised, “Cassandra, I strongly advise against pursuing this. Creating a Horcrux entails sacrificing a portion of your own soul. It’s an excruciating ordeal.”

Cassandra shook her head dismissively, asserting, “Wentworth, you underestimate me. I’ve never shied away from pain. If I want to achieve my ambition, sacrificing some of my soul is a small price to pay!”

Upon hearing Cassandra’s words, Wentworth regarded her with surprise, then shifted his gaze to the diary in his hand, a sense of clarity settling in. “Let’s see for ourselves then, shall we?”

Within the brief period of Cassandra’s interaction with the diary, it became evident that she had been influenced by it. Notably, Cassandra, though inherently ambitious, was not one to boast about her aspirations.

After a prolonged silence, Wentworth spoke slowly, cautioning, “It will harm you in ways you can’t even imagine. You will be destroyed and disfigured!”

Cassandra’s initially excited expression morphed into disbelief at Wentworth’s words, and she echoed, “Destroyed… disfigured?!”

Wentworth nodded gravely and elaborated, “Yes, it will render you unrecognizable, even causing you to lose your nose and become a person without a nose. That is, on the physical side, there will be more to your mental.”

Hearing this revelation, Cassandra took a deep breath, her eyes filled with disgust as she looked at the notebook in Wentworth’s hand. She couldn’t help but remark, “This price is a bit too steep.”

Whether it was the act of taking the diary from Cassandra’s hands, breaking the lasting influence, or Cassandra’s own realization, Wentworth couldn’t discern. Nonetheless, Cassandra gradually regained her senses.

Witnessing the eagerness fade from Cassandra’s eyes, Wentworth felt a sense of relief and discreetly ushered her away. Taking hold of the diary, he proceeded to the Room of Requirement.

“Especially seeing that beauty of yours fade for a simple trade of power. I don’t want to ever see you become unrecognizable, Cassandra. Put your hopes in me and let me do the job, please.” Wentworth pleaded as he grabbed Cassandra’s hands, unconsciously putting them closer to his warm chest.

Caught off guard by Wentworth’s sudden action, Cassandra didn’t even know what to do besides staring at Wentworth’s eyes, subconsciously blushing while being lost for words.

“It’s not like I don’t trust you; it’s just I wanted to do whatever I could to stand by your side.” Cassandra finally replied after finding the courage to put her words out.

“Don’t worry, there’s Cedric and Green as well. Sit tight. It would take a long time before it would finally reach your turn to stand by my side, Cassandra.” Not knowing any better than those words, Wentworth said it straight to her face while still pressing her hands against his chest.

Cassandra immediately pulled her hands after hearing him say, “Fine, you can depend on those two. Don’t even consider me to exist at all!”

Seeing her sudden change of attitude, Wentworth was confused.

Unbeknownst to both Wentworth and Cassandra, Ron lingered behind Wentworth, silently observing the exchange.

Ron, Ginny’s older brother, watched as “Ginny” handed a thick book to Wentworth, their interaction leaving them both speechless.

Seeing his younger sister was having a romantic exchange with Wentworth made him speechless.

Eventually, “Ginny” departed, but Ron trailed Wentworth rather than following his sister. As a concerned older brother, Ron grappled with mixed emotions upon witnessing his sister delivering notebooks to boys late at night.

Wentworth briskly made his way to the Room of Requirement, opening the door and stepping inside. Placing the diary on the table, he stared at it, and the room descended into silence.

After a prolonged pause, Wentworth sneered suddenly, addressing the diary with casual disdain, “Why didn’t you attempt to influence me? I stood here, held you in my hand, yet you remained inert. What’s your excuse?”

If anyone had stumbled upon this eerie scene, it would undoubtedly send shivers down their spine.

In the hush of the night, within an empty room, Wentworth found himself alone, engaged in a conversation with a diary.

With no response forthcoming, Wentworth uttered a name into the void, “Tom Riddle! Answer my questions! Or should I address you by your future name, Voldemort?”

After a pause, a figure materialized from the darkness. The newcomer, handsome and adorned in a dark green Slytherin robe, approached Wentworth deliberately.

“Let’s go with Voldemort. I confess that the murky, bears the stain of mudblood lineage,” the enigmatic figure declared.

Facing this revelation, Wentworth raised his hands in a nonchalant gesture, remarking, “Okay, Tom, can you now explain why you didn’t attempt to influence me?”

Taking a deep breath, the young Tom Riddle disregarded the name dispute and answered, “It’s simple. I can’t discern the desires in your heart. Everyone harbors ambitions, like the Slytherin who handed me to you just now—her aspirations were clear as candlelight in the dark. But with you, I see nothing.”

Wentworth nodded thoughtfully, then grinned, saying, “It’s not like there is nothing inside me. You just can’t see it at all. Before Hogwarts, I specialized in Occlumency, the kin

d even Dumbledore couldn’t penetrate.”