In the end, Dumbledore probably didn't believe him—since the System didn't give any feedback—but he still handed Advanced Secrets of the Dark Arts over to Louis.
It was a locked spellbook, the kind bound in something that felt like real leather.
As for what kind of leather… best not to guess. One thing was certain—it wasn't cow or sheep.
"To be honest, I'm surprised," Louis said, holding the book. "I thought you'd refuse out of concern."
"You were far too calm for me to come up with a reason to refuse," Dumbledore replied mildly. "But you said you were planning to deal with the basilisk—how do you intend to do that? Need help?"
"No need for help, Headmaster. But you know how dangerous a basilisk is—it kills with a glance, and its scales block magic better than armor. Normal methods probably won't work," Louis began laying the groundwork.
"So?"
"So," Louis spread his hands, "I'll have to use… unorthodox means. Fortunately, my inheritance includes a rather special spell that should be able to handle the basilisk. It's just…"
"Just what?" Dumbledore prompted.
"It's just that the area of effect is quite large," Louis admitted, "and it might… cause a serious blow to Hagrid."
Dumbledore raised a brow. "A large-scale spell… and you plan to use the Acromantulas in the Forbidden Forest as bait, don't you?"
"As expected, nothing in Hogwarts can escape your notice," Louis said with a grin. "You don't mind, do you?"
"Compared to a basilisk running wild in the castle, your method is far more acceptable," Dumbledore nodded. "Proceed as you plan."
"Then it's settled." Louis tucked Advanced Secrets of the Dark Arts under his arm. "I'll take my leave, Headmaster."
When Louis left the office, the portraits on the walls immediately burst into uproar.
"Albus, have you gone mad?! How could you give him that book?" Armando Dippet stomped his foot furiously.
"Quiet down! I can feel the vibrations from here," Phineas Nigellus Black complained. "It's Dumbledore's decision—we have no right to interfere."
"But the spells inside that book are far too dangerous! Especially for a prodigy like him—it's even more dangerous," Dippet sighed. As the former headmaster who had once nurtured Tom Riddle, he was especially sensitive to matters like these.
"But he made a good point, didn't he?" Dumbledore said calmly. "And besides, I rather hope Louis might surprise me with something new."
"We'll just have to wait and see, then."
With Advanced Secrets of the Dark Arts in hand, it meant Louis could finally begin his research on Horcruxes.
Another weekend arrived, marking the start of the long-awaited Hogwarts Quidditch month—
which also meant Dobby's "attacks" on Harry were about to begin.
Louis couldn't understand that little elf's logic—protecting Harry by nearly killing him—but he didn't bother trying. Instead, he buried himself completely in his reading of Advanced Secrets of the Dark Arts and Magical Codex.
So, without hesitation, he turned down Hermione's invitation again.
"You can invite Cassandra instead," he said flatly in the Great Hall that morning. "Sorry, Hermione, but I'm really not interested in Quidditch. There are some things I have to work on."
Although Cassandra didn't seem to enjoy Quidditch either, she still didn't refuse the already-rejected Hermione.
"You? Someone like you has a girlfriend?"
That was Cassandra's parting comment before leaving.
Of course, Louis forgot about that line almost immediately.
Louis, whose physical body was still only twelve years old, had never even thought about dating. His friendship with Hermione was purely platonic—if one insisted on calling it anything, perhaps "nurturing" would be more accurate.
Either way, she was off-limits to anyone else.
Besides, what girl could possibly be more important than his work?
Inside the Room of Requirement, Louis placed the Ravenclaw Diadem and Gaunt's Ring side by side.
Of course, a vial of Volumen Hydrargyrum was set between them, effectively isolating the two Horcruxes so they couldn't sense each other's presence.
And between the two Horcruxes—and Louis himself—stood a cauldron bubbling and hissing with an eerie, dark aura.
"With this potion, it should work…" Louis muttered, holding Advanced Secrets of the Dark Arts in one hand. Following the section on Horcruxes, he dropped in several grotesque, spine-chilling ingredients.
In the discipline of Qi Magic, strength alone meant nothing; once your weak point was found, even the strongest power could be undone by a single spell.
Whether one wielded Dark Qi or Bright Qi, the essence of Qi Magic was restraint—to counter, to balance, to neutralize.
The potion Louis was brewing was designed precisely to target the "shell" of a Horcrux—that maddening barrier immune to all forms of magic.
Each time he tossed in an ingredient, a wave of stench burst from the cauldron, followed by thick black smoke, but soon it would return to its steady boil.
That meant the process was going smoothly—no instability, no explosion.
This was not an easy task.
Though the recipe itself was ancient, Louis had modified it using the theories from Tara's Magical Codex, transforming it into something compatible with Qi Magic.
Thus, he worked with extreme care, terrified that a single mistake would shatter the delicate equilibrium.
Fortunately, both books were reliable sources, and the combination of their teachings produced equally reliable results.
At last, the potion was finished—blacker than ink, yet not the slightest bit viscous.
Whatever chemical reaction it had undergone, the result was something unnaturally smooth and alive.
This was a specialized reagent—capable of neutralizing the Horcrux's immunity to magic without harming the soul within.
It even had a secondary effect: erasing all non-Horcrux enchantments from any object it touched, stripping it of magical function entirely.
Louis tested it with a few spells.
Magic had no effect on the potion—it ignored Wingardium Leviosa and Accio alike.
When he brushed a thin layer of it onto a wooden stick, the stick itself gained the same immunity—it repelled all magic.
Except for Dark Magic.
That part Louis hadn't tested yet. His own Dark Magic proficiency was far too low—Quirrell's spellcasting skills were pitiful, and the Soul-Stealing Scroll could only absorb one instance of a given type of magic. Louis wasn't about to waste it on Quirrell.
As a result, his Dark Magic ability was nearly nonexistent. Being a Muggle-born in essence, he couldn't truly learn spells the traditional way, so he couldn't even cast a simple Fiendfyre.
Satisfied with the results, Louis recorded the potion's recipe, already thinking about how to simplify and refine it further. Then he took a drop of the liquid and let it fall onto the Ravenclaw Diadem.
Compared to the Gaunt Ring's unknown and dangerous state, Louis had already studied the fragment of Voldemort's soul inside the Diadem thoroughly.
It had been starving for so long it was practically on the brink of dissipating—barely clinging to existence. Even if it escaped, it wouldn't cause much trouble.
The instant the black potion drop touched the silver Diadem, the metal darkened, black smoke curling up from its surface.
A terrified scream echoed from within—the unmistakable voice of Voldemort's soul fragment.
He sounded panicked, almost hysterical—after all, it had been so long since he'd felt pain.
That long-forgotten sensation made him realize, instinctively, that his end was near.
"What are you doing?! Stop—STOP!" the fragment roared in agony, but Louis ignored him, calmly adding more drops of the solution.
Before long, the once-sparkling Ravenclaw Diadem had turned completely black, coated in a thick, greasy residue.
Voldemort's voice fell silent.
"Hmm? Don't tell me it's dead already?" Louis frowned, tapping the hardened crust on the crown's surface.
"Hey, Voldemort... you still alive in there?"
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