Hogwarts: I'm Truly a Model Wizard

Kyle held his quill and stared at the diary for a long time, hesitating to open it.

The diary was Voldemort's first Horcrux, and in many ways, it was the most unique. Unlike other Horcruxes, the soul fragment in this diary had an unprecedented ability—it could, under the right conditions, resurrect itself independently, drawing life force from others to manifest a physical body out of nothing. This method of resurrection was beyond anything Voldemort had managed, even during his years in Albania. If he'd had this ability, he would have drained Quirrell last year and bypassed the need for the Philosopher's Stone altogether.

If Voldemort's soul were like a piece of toast, the fragment he'd placed in the diary was the largest slice—perhaps even cut in half due to his inexperience with soul-splitting at the time. This explained why Riddle in the diary possessed such complete memories, a full personality, and the capacity for conversation. Other than being unable to cast Charms, this Riddle was indistinguishable from Voldemort as a student.

This level of completeness...perhaps it was the "correct" way to create a Horcrux.

Kyle's curiosity began to stir. If he managed to resurrect Riddle, what kind of relationship might unfold between Riddle and Voldemort? Cooperation or a deadly rivalry? Kyle suspected the latter. Perhaps they would work together temporarily, deal with Dumbledore and Harry, and only then confront each other over who had the right to call themselves Voldemort. But in the end, it was unlikely they could coexist. A proud person like Voldemort would never allow a duplicate of himself to exist, even if that duplicate shared his soul.

Kyle snapped back to reality, realizing he'd been sitting in front of the diary for over an hour. He shook his head, set down his quill, and tried to refocus.

As a student, Tom Riddle had undoubtedly been remarkable: intelligent, skilled at gaining others' trust, adept at masking his true nature, and possessing sharp powers of observation and insight. Dumbledore had once said he was one of the brightest students he'd ever encountered—a statement originally meant for Riddle, long before there was a final "one" to compare him to.

If Kyle was going to engage with Riddle, he would need to be cautious and avoid any visible weaknesses. He needed to weave a "mantle" to win Riddle's trust and lull him into a false sense of security.

Kyle took out the enchanted box Nicolas Flamel had given him and placed the diary inside. Then, he rummaged through a suitcase at the bottom of his bed and pulled out a thick, parchment-bound book. Inked on the cover in cursive was the title: The Mysteries of Fear.

He had copied it from the Restricted Section just before the holidays, though he hadn't had time to study it. Most of the book dealt with dark magic research, but there were some practical applications too.

One section mentioned an advanced use of Occlumency: rather than just clearing the mind, it described selectively hiding key memories and thoughts while projecting an open mind on the surface. This was likely the technique Snape had used to maintain his cover as a Death Eater. A completely blank mind would have been a dead giveaway to Voldemort.

Kyle could imagine the scene:

Hiding your thoughts, are you? Suspicious—someone bring him an Avada Kedavra.

Yes...something like that.

To reach Snape's level of expertise, Kyle knew he would need time and substantial practice. But if he just wanted to create a superficial cover—to make it look like his mind wasn't entirely blank—that would be easier to manage.

...

Three days later.

"Ron, has Kyle gone out again?" Harry asked as he sliced his bread at the Burrow's breakfast table. "I feel like I haven't seen him since we got back from Diagon Alley."

"I'm not sure," Ron replied with a shrug. He'd been rather absorbed in Harry's Nimbus 2000 and had spent much of his time down at the Quidditch pitch, so he hadn't really noticed Kyle's absence. "But Fred and George might know."

"What's that?" Fred asked, entering the kitchen just as he heard his name.

"Oh, we were talking about Kyle," Harry said. "I haven't seen him around lately. Has he gone off somewhere again?"

Fred came over to the table and started spreading orange marmalade on his toast. "Why do you ask? Do you need something from him?"

"It's for Hermione," Harry explained. "She really liked the automatic ink-jet quill that Kyle gave Ron, and she asked if it's for sale."

"Why, yes, of course it is!" George said, sitting down beside Harry. He pulled a brand-new quill from his pocket and handed it over. "Good taste, I must say. This is one of our earlier creations—quite popular, too! And it's reasonably priced, only one Sickle."

"Earlier creations?" Harry looked down at the quill in his hand, feeling confused. Didn't Kyle say he'd made it at Nicolas Flamel's place? Or had he remembered that wrong?

But the quill George had handed him looked identical to Ron's—a plain, ordinary-looking quill.

"Go on, give it a try," Fred urged, grinning. "It's on the house."

"Alright then," Harry agreed, rummaging in his pocket until he found a crumpled piece of parchment. It was an old notice about the restriction on underage magic, handed out before the holidays. Harry hadn't even bothered to read it back then, but it would work for testing the quill now.

Flattening the paper, and under Fred and George's watchful eyes, he picked up the quill.

As soon as the nib touched the parchment, pfft! A huge blob of ink shot out from the quill's end, splattering all over Harry's face.

Harry froze, stunned, holding the quill as he processed the fact that his entire face was now covered in ink. Beside him, Fred and George burst into raucous laughter, clutching their stomachs.

But their amusement was cut short by Mrs. Weasley's angry voice from behind them.

"Harry is a guest! How dare you... And haven't I told you both not to pull this kind of stunt in the house!"

Fred and George turned around with difficulty, still shaking with laughter.

Mrs. Weasley stood right behind them, spatula in hand, wielding it like a sword that looked all too ready to strike.

"Mum, I can explain," Fred said quickly. "Harry asked for it himself!"

George nodded vigorously. "Yes, he wanted one for his friend, so we just let him test it. Ron can back us up!"