On the hospital bed, Marcus Flint looked at Howl, whose eyes were cold, and felt a chill run through him, as if a terrifying aura enveloped his body, making even his breathing involuntarily stop.
"Professor... what are you talking about?" he whispered weakly.
"Tom Riddle's diary," Howl said again, "You know what that is, right!"
Dumbledore also stood by the bed at this time, his eyes like X-rays, directly piercing the heart.
"I've heard..." he said tremblingly, "Riddle, that's Tom Riddle, right? I heard my father say that was You-Know-Who's former name..."
Howl leaned slightly, looking directly at him.
Flint stared into those eyes, as if vaguely seeing a monstrous wave.
"Flint, it seems you know that outright denial is the most foolish thing to do... However, this is still not a smart choice.
The smartest choice is always to decisively turn back before the real mistake has happened, without any lucky psychology, even if it means bearing some losses."
"Mistake?!" he suddenly changed his voice.
No! This posture...
Flint seemed like a different person at this moment, speaking arrogantly, "What do you mean by mistake? Correct and incorrect, is it for you to—"
At that very moment, Howl brought his two fingers together and sharply poked his forehead.
Mind Intrusion—
"Professor!" The few children beside them stood up nervously.
Dumbledore looked serious, turning to the children, "If you've rested well enough, you can go out and enjoy some rare holiday time."
Harry nodded blankly, then looked at Howl uneasily.
"Okay, Professor."
Saying that, he was the first to turn around and leave with the two others.
His expression was complicated as he passed Snape's hospital bed.
Seeing the three children leave, Dumbledore also raised his wand, first closing the curtain, then pulling back the covers and pointing his wand at Marcus's stomach.
As the elder wand slowly moved, a vertical bloodstain appeared on his abdomen.
The blood was confined by an invisible force and did not flow out.
And inside the abdominal cavity, a black notebook, pressing against other organs, lay within it...
In the realm of souls, Howl's figure appeared.
In a void space, two figures appeared. One was a severely weakened Marcus Flint.
The other was a tall, black-haired boy with a gaunt face and an arrogant smile.
"Howl Jenkins," he said slowly, with some displeasure, "Indeed, a rat can never accomplish anything!"
His tone was filled with dissatisfaction towards Peter Pettigrew.
Howl looked at him: "I've always been curious, who is the one behind this mischief?
After all, logically speaking, Riddle self-destructed his last remnant soul last year and should have reappeared in the current world after some time...
But now that I see you, I understand."
"Me? Self-destructed?!" He lowered his head, a hint of gloom in his eyes.
"Yes," Howl nodded, "You are the first Horcrux he made, right.
The diary... was made during his student days, right? Making a Horcrux requires killing a person, was it Myrtle?"
At this point, a faint, almost imperceptible smile appeared on the boy's face; any emotional expression at the soul level was very active and difficult to hide.
"Ha, full of ambition... Indeed, creating a Horcrux during one's student days is something rarely achieved in thousands of years.
Although there were some harmless mistakes... for example, he didn't have a clear understanding of the relationship between soul and memory at that time.
But it's still commendable."
"You don't need to comment," he said coldly, "If it weren't for that fool Peter, you wouldn't even be able to stand in front of me and speak right now."
He made no secret of his disdain for Peter.
"You don't understand, do you?" Howl said.
"You don't understand why your future self, the one who should naturally become stronger decades later, would get involved with someone like Peter."
"Hmph!" He waved his hand, "A scumbag, the trash of trash, a weak, dirty, smelly rat. Using his body was the most disgusting thing I've ever done."
This ten-year-old Riddle was completely different from the defeated Lord Voldemort; he was clearly more arrogant and looked down on Peter.
"So you want him to die?"
"He deserves to die!" Riddle said indifferently, "Unfortunately, I overestimated him. Without the Basilisk, he can't do anything."
"So, you told him that Curse and guided him to kill Ron Weasley.
As long as those two die, no one will ever know of your existence again, so you can start anew with Marcus Flint at the school and devise another plan.
And absolutely no one will suspect you, because Flint is a victim and the least noticed place in all of Hogwarts."
"Flint?" His voice rose slightly, and he shook his head regrettably, "Barely enough, I suppose. This guy's desire for power is extreme. Guess why?"
He didn't mention that his initial target was Draco Malfoy. After all, the scene of him being thrown away like trash was quite ugly.
Howl glanced at the weak soul beside him, which was Flint's soul, completely suppressed by Riddle at this moment, showing no significant reaction.
"Because of Harry Potter?" Howl was unsure if that was the answer.
"Yes, it seems your control over this school is higher than I thought. I'm very curious why Dumbledore would allow your existence," he said with some surprise.
Howl shook his head, not answering him, but merely praising, "You succeeded."
"What do you mean?"
"I don't know if this is related to your Curse, but you certainly succeeded in making me very unhappy."
With that, the sound of waves appeared behind him.
"Now, get out of this child's body!"
A black tide, as if the sky itself was falling, surged from behind Howl, instantly engulfing him—
At the same time, Dumbledore saw Howl open his eyes, pull the diary from Flint's abdominal cavity, and sever his connection with Flint.
"Reparo—"
Dumbledore slowly chanted the spell, and the crack in Flint's abdomen quickly disappeared.
A moment later, he also opened his eyes and immediately saw the blood-stained notebook in Dumbledore's hand.
Instantly, he involuntarily reached for his stomach, but felt nothing.
"Professor, I..."
Words choked in his throat, and deep fear appeared in his eyes.
He couldn't imagine how he would be treated. Would he be expelled? Would he be sent to trial and spend the rest of his life in Azkaban?
"You made a wrong choice, but fortunately, it hasn't led to a major disaster yet," Howl looked at him, "Don't worry too much, just focus on recovering first."
Temporary update, revising previous chapters.
No comments have been deleted, I humbly accept everyone's criticism.
Bowing my head in apology Orz
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