Everyday Life of a Top Student at Hogwarts

Chapter 250 Continued Silence and Strategic Adjustments

Chapter 250 Continued Silence and Strategic Adjustments

Saturday afternoon, inner workshop of Eagle's Nest.

A silence heavier than ever before hung in the air, broken only by the steady, low-frequency hum of the magical equipment in the corner. Karen sat at his workbench, the black diary open before him. The pages were still covered only with his handwriting, the ink long since dried, the other side of the page blank, as if silently mocking his patience.

This is after numerous attempts to communicate.

Since acquiring the diary, Karen has come here every day without fail, as if performing a tedious ritual: activate the protective shield, take out the diary, write, observe, wait, and then seal it away. He tried various topics, from academic confusion to complaints about professors, and even cautiously mentioned some minor troubles in interpersonal relationships, trying his best to play the role of a third-year student who is somewhat talented, a little ambitious, but also encounters ordinary difficulties.

The magical source within the diary, observed by his "Eye of Truth," would produce extremely faint but undeniably present fluctuations each time he wrote. The threads of mental probing were never absent either, cautiously touching the surface of his facade, sensing the emotions he revealed—confusion, dissatisfaction, a touch of resentment, and longing. But like the fish of the deepest sea, it only sensed the changes in the water's flow, never easily taking the bait, showing no sign of response.

This persistent, deathly silence began to strike Karen as something unusual. Tom Riddle's fragmented soul, with its cunning and greedy nature, seemed unusually inactive for so long, given that it was a seemingly "high-quality" prey. Moreover, Karen had considered the possibility that Tom might discover the problem beforehand, but it shouldn't be stuck in the initial stages like this.

"Is the Horcrux's own magic insufficient to activate it?" Karen tapped her fingertips lightly on the table, staring at the blank page, her mind racing. Ginny hadn't carried it for very long, and probably hadn't interacted with it much yet. The life force and magic it absorbed were likely limited, insufficient to support frequent, deep communication and mind control. Was it lying dormant, accumulating power?

Or—did it sense something? This thought made Karen's heart sink slightly. His Occlumency should be flawless, and his feigned emotions were meticulously crafted. But the other party was, after all, a part of Voldemort, though the younger Voldemort probably didn't possess such a powerful ability to manipulate consciousness. Perhaps it instinctively sensed something amiss? Sensed the annoyance of this contact's excessive "perfection" and its overly "stable" mental state? Or was it simply out of extreme caution, refusing to reveal itself until it was absolutely certain?

This stalemate can't continue. Karen realized that conventional, gentle probing might not break the deadlock. He needed to throw out a more substantial bait, create a stronger "emotional fluctuation," and cultivate an image that was easier to exploit—a lost soul troubled by a more important secret and in greater need of "guidance."

He took a deep breath and picked up the quill pen again. This time, he wrote more slowly, deliberately infusing his words with a deeper sense of confusion and—a subtle, almost imperceptible fear.

He put pen to paper, the tip making a soft, scratching sound:

September 14th. The weather was slightly cool.

Sometimes I feel that Hogwarts isn't as peaceful as it seems on the surface. Last year, I heard that terrible things happened in the castle; Professor Quirrell died, and a basilisk appeared. Fortunately, it was eventually resolved, but no one knows exactly what happened. Headmaster Dumbledore always manages to handle everything, but there are too many secrets.

As Karen wrote this, her "Eye of Truth" clearly detected a very slight tremor in the cold, sinister magical source within the diary, but it remained dormant. There was a reaction! It was reacting to the basilisk incident!

He went on to introduce the next bait:

The most famous one right now is probably Harry Potter. The title of savior is certainly resounding; he attracts attention wherever he goes. I heard Professor Lockhart even specifically asked him to take a picture? Seriously—I don't know what to say. Sometimes I feel like he's not that special. At least I've heard Professor Snape scolded him more than anyone else in Potions class. Luckily, he's not Ravenclaw, or our house would lose a lot of points. But the scar on his forehead is so prominent, reminding everyone what he's been through. I wonder what's so extraordinary about him.

The diary's magic fluctuated again, this time slightly more noticeably than before, but still extremely weak. The invisible mental probes reappeared, scanning Karen's "emotions" as she wrote these words with even greater care than before.

Karen continued to simulate the curiosity of an ordinary Muggle-born student about campus secrets, a slight skepticism about real individuals under the halo of a savior, and a subtle, barely perceptible mix of awe and delicate jealousy. These emotions were meticulously controlled on the surface by Occlumency.

Karen paused here, focusing her "Eye of Truth" fully on the diary.

coming!

The dormant, chilling magical source within the diary suddenly surged with a distinct and far stronger fluctuation than ever before, as he wrote down the words "basilisk," "Dumbledore," and "Potter"! It felt as if a venomous snake had finally been touched in a sensitive spot, abruptly raising its head, revealing its bloodthirsty fangs, radiating a cold and thirsty intent. Even the emotional fluctuation alarms he had placed nearby heated up slightly, emitting an almost inaudible beep, indicating a strong, external mental interference attempting to infiltrate.

Karen's heart raced slightly, but her Occlusive Technique remained as steady as a rock, locking away all her true emotions and thoughts, leaving only a feigned sense of fear and confusion rippling on the surface.

However, the violent fluctuations lasted for less than three seconds before receding like a tide. The diary returned to its deathly silence, the magical fluctuations becoming weak and concealed once more, as if everything that had just happened was merely Karen's illusion. The alarm's blare also ceased.

There was no response. No words appeared.

Karen frowned. Something was wrong. This was very wrong.

Its dramatic reaction proves that these keywords greatly stimulated it, triggering its core interests or memories. Both "basilisk" and "Potter" should be targets of its intense interest. Logically, it should be eager to respond, attempting to use this "fear" and "curiosity" to establish a connection, bewitch this seemingly knowledgeable contact, extract more information, or develop a new puppet.

But it didn't. It chose to remain silent, forcefully suppressing the urge to respond.

This unusual restraint goes beyond mere caution. It's more like—vigilance? Or perhaps it's assessing the risk? Is it suspicious of the contact who suddenly brought up sensitive topics? Is it worried it's a trap?

Karen leaned back in her chair, her fingers unconsciously twirling the tip of her quill pen. Things were getting complicated. Tom Riddle was far more wary than he'd anticipated. Perhaps it was because it had just been separated from its relatively "safe" host, Ginny Weasley, and was in a state of instinctive self-protection? Or perhaps it had sensed something and become more cautious?

In any case, the original plan needs to be adjusted. Continuously offering bait unilaterally, if the other party doesn't take the bait, might reveal your eagerness and even make the diary more wary.

He decisively closed the diary and locked it back in its lead box. Today's probing was over. He needed to reassess his strategy.

Perhaps—we should give it a break for a while? Stop writing actively, let the diary guess and worry, let it be unsure whether this "potential host" has lost interest or discovered something. Hungry prey is often more willing to take risks.

Or, should we create a more natural, less suspicious "accidental" opportunity for contact with the diary? For example, could we "accidentally" expose the diary to another emotionally charged and more easily manipulated student? But this idea is extremely risky and goes against Karen's original intention in taking it from Ginny.

Of course, if all else fails, he has a last resort: since bribery doesn't work, he can use Fiery Blaze to coerce the consciousness within the Soul Weapon.

Karen cleaned the workbench, removed the workshop's protective gear, and slowly walked out. Her brow was still slightly furrowed, lost in thought.

"How is it?" Ernesto, who had been waiting in the main room of the "Eagle's Nest," immediately looked up and asked. Wesley and Fabian also looked at him questioningly. They noticed that Karen had been inside a little longer than usual today.

"Still no response." Karen shook his head, his tone calm, but his roommate, who knew him well, could detect a hint of seriousness in his voice. "Even quieter than before."

"Could there be a mistake?" Wesley said whimsically. "I mean, maybe it's just an ordinary old notebook?"

“Impossible,” Fabian retorted immediately. “Given Karen’s alchemical skills, he wouldn’t be wrong.”

Ernesto's grey eyes stared sharply at Karen: "What are you planning to do? Keep wasting your days on it?"

'

"Let's take a break for now," Karen decided. "Talking to yourself every day in front of a notebook that won't answer seems a bit silly. Maybe it needs some time to think." He spoke in a relaxed tone, but his eyes told his roommates that things weren't that simple.

The three understood his meaning and didn't press further. Wesley shrugged: "Suit yourself. Just remember to tell me first if it ever speaks; I'm really curious about what's living in there."

Karen nodded, her gaze fixed on the workshop's tightly closed door.

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