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Speaking of making a big move, Ryan suddenly remembered that he still had 1/7 of Voldemort's soul in his possession.
Since Overton had summoned his ancestors to deliver a crushing blow in the world of Dr. Zombie Bruce, this notebook had been much quieter than before. The eerie temptation that once emanated from it had now faded.
Thinking about it, this made sense. After all, this Horcrux contained only a fragment of Voldemort's teenage soul. At that time, Voldemort had hoped this Horcrux would release the basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets to cleanse the school. This meant that the primary function of the Horcrux wasn't self-preservation, so its defenses weren't as formidable as those of his later creations.
Not to mention, despite his brilliance, Voldemort's youth had limited his abilities and resources. Moreover, this Horcrux was crafted from an ordinary notebook, making it inherently weaker than the others he created later.
But no matter how weak it was, Ryan needed to find a way to deal with it. He had already harvested the Parseltongue ability, which he considered its most valuable feature, and had no interest in anything else the Horcrux had to offer.
Aside from memories of Voldemort framing others, the notebook likely contained fragments of dark magic knowledge—including the method to create Horcruxes.
However, obtaining this information required deep interaction with the Horcrux, which was extremely dangerous. Even a slight mistake could lead to disastrous consequences. Moreover, as the owner of the Myriad Realms Store, Ryan had countless opportunities to obtain various abilities and discover superior methods for longevity. The dark knowledge contained in Voldemort's diary was of little appeal to him.
Especially the method of using Horcruxes to evade death. In the Liam Inheritance, which Ryan had acquired, the importance of maintaining a complete soul was repeatedly emphasized. Even in cases where a person needed to infuse part of their soul into an artifact, only a tiny fraction—one that wouldn't harm the foundation—was permitted to be separated. Furthermore, the method required a way to replenish the lost soul afterward.
In contrast, Voldemort's reckless approach—splitting his soul into multiple fragments like slicing a loaf of bread—was absolutely unacceptable.
Since Ryan had no use for the Horcrux, he had to find a way to dispose of it. Simply discarding it was out of the question. In the original story, luck prevented it from falling into the wrong hands, but Ryan didn't want to gamble on chance.
More importantly, after witnessing the significance of merit in the world of Dr. Zombie Bruce, Ryan understood its value. The assistance of accumulated merit had made his practice of the Liam Inheritance far smoother. A cursed object like this Horcrux, which harmed both its owner and the world, could not be left unattended.
Since he couldn't abandon it carelessly, his options for dealing with it were limited. After much thought, Ryan devised a plan that would not only rid him of the Horcrux but also count as a great deed.
The following morning was a Sunday. Ryan arrived early at the eighth-floor corridor, schoolbag slung over his shoulder. He watched as Dumbledore hurried out of the headmaster's office and made his way to the restroom.
To be honest, Ryan had never understood why there wasn't a bathroom in the headmaster's office. For someone as old as Dumbledore—well over a century—having to leave his office just to use the facilities seemed rather inconvenient. Even the Gryffindor dormitories had private bathrooms.
A few moments later, Dumbledore, dressed in his pajamas, returned from the restroom. Seizing the opportunity, Ryan quickly stepped forward to intercept him.
Dumbledore seemed mildly surprised to see a student waiting for him at such an early hour. However, his voice remained gentle as he spoke:
"Today is the weekend, and I imagine most students are still enjoying their rest. But given how anxious you seem, I suspect you have something important to tell me. Come with me."
With that, Professor Dumbledore led Ryan past the two stone gargoyles guarding the entrance to his office. They ascended the spiraling staircase and entered the grand office.
The headmaster's office was even more exquisite than it appeared in the films. Ryan's eyes swept across the massive desk cluttered with intricate silver instruments. To the side, Fox the phoenix perched on a shelf, dozing lightly. As they entered, the bird lazily lifted an eyelid before resuming its rest.
"Ah, that's Fox," Dumbledore said warmly. "He hasn't been in great shape lately. I believe he may be approaching his next burning day."
Dumbledore settled behind his desk and gestured with a wave of his hand. An armchair floated across the room and landed gently in front of Ryan.
"Although it is only the first week of school," Dumbledore continued, "unexpected events always seem to arise at Hogwarts—at least during my tenure as headmaster. But rest assured, I have handled many such matters before, and I believe I can assist with whatever is troubling you. So, take your time and speak freely."
Ryan could sense the quiet confidence in Dumbledore's words. This wasn't the empty boasting of someone like Lockhart; it was the assurance of a true master of magic. If Dumbledore and Voldemort had been the same age, Ryan suspected the Dark Lord wouldn't have stood a chance.
"There are many responsibilities in life, and we are often kept busy," Dumbledore continued. "But that should not prevent us from enjoying life's small comforts." With a flick of his wand, he conjured a selection of beverages. "Tea, juice, pumpkin juice, lemonade."
As he named each drink, they materialized on the desk before him. Of course, as headmaster, he had the authority to perform such magic within his own office.
"Tea will do, thank you," Ryan replied formally.
Even as he sipped his tea, he couldn't shake the feeling that Dumbledore's piercing blue eyes, hidden behind his half-moon glasses, saw straight through him.
This was not due to Legilimency, Dementors, or Veritaserum, as some fans in his past life had speculated. Rather, it was the result of over a century of wisdom and experience.
"So," Dumbledore said, "have you encountered a problem, or have you discovered something that requires my assistance?"
Ryan took a deep breath, allowing himself to fully regain his composure. He reached into his schoolbag and retrieved an iron box.
Carefully, he donned a pair of dragon-leather gloves before unlatching the box and withdrawing the diary.
Dumbledore's expression darkened slightly. Ryan's cautious handling of the object indicated that it was no ordinary book.
The diary looked plain—an ordinary, somewhat worn notebook that seemed out of place in the opulent office. Yet its simplicity was precisely what made it so dangerous. Hogwarts had dozens, if not hundreds, of identical notebooks.
Dumbledore's relaxed demeanor vanished in an instant. He reached into his robes and drew the legendary Elder Wand.
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