"...A Christmas gift, but I don't know who sent it."
Looking at the diary belonging to Tom Riddle in William's hand, Harry was stunned for a moment—he even forgot about this thing, a blank notebook. On the morning he received the gift, he and Hermione studied it for half a day, but even when Hermione brought out the unhexing book and waved her magic wand over it for quite a while, it still appeared to be just a blank notebook.
Except for an unknown signature, there was nothing unusual.
"..."
William opened the notebook in his hand, staring at the blank pages with a slight frown—all the entries he previously wrote had disappeared, including the words he used to "intimidate" the diary. The only thing remaining on the first page was the faint initials of Tom M. Riddle.
"What's wrong?"
Harry asked, somewhat confused.
"Let's go, don't block the hallway," Percy, who had also left the Great Hall, looked at Harry holding his backpack in his arms, "The class bell rung three minutes ago."
"Nothing." William shook his head too, placing the diary into Harry's arms.
Although he felt something strange about William, Harry was too busy with his upcoming Charm class and hurriedly thanked him before running up the stairs.
"By the way, Professor Lockhart seemed to have seen you cast a spell on those gnomes just now."
After Harry left, Percy suddenly sidled up to William, whispering a reminder.
Hearing this, William looked up, his gaze crossing the hall to a professor still seated eating his meal—Lockhart and William exchanged a brief look before Lockhart instinctively lowered his head.
Then, while rubbing the bald patches on his head, he hastily abandoned his still-warm pie and left the hall through the side door.
"He saw it, so what... where's Dumbledore?"
William didn't pay much attention as he shifted his gaze to the head seat at the teacher's table, where the wide high-backed chair sat empty.
"...I don't know, he seemed to have left after eating?"
Percy paused, seemingly not understanding why the topic shifted so abruptly.
"Alright, then you go to class."
William nodded, pulling out a piece of parchment from his pocket and stepping over the feathers scattered on the spiral staircase.
"Oh, oh, okay..." Percy responded instinctively, then seemed to realize something, "Wait, I... I'm the prefect, right?"
......
"Knock, knock—"
"...Enter."
Upon hearing the knock, Snape looked up, a bit curious about who might be at the door of the Potions Classroom—people rarely knocked on his door; usually, it was only Professor McGonagall looking for him with business. The little wizards would rather not see him for a week, so why would they come on their own?
As for Dumbledore... that old man preferred to suddenly appear behind him.
But when the door was pushed open from the outside, the curiosity on Snape's face instantly turned cold. He instinctively tightened his grip on the wand beneath his robes, "Richard... Mr. Richard, I don't think I've ever invited you to my classroom," the man said, his expression icy, his drawled speech indicating an inner calm he didn't truly feel.
"?"
William, casually closing the door, looked at Snape with the kind of gaze one uses on a simpleton, "I'm a student, this is a classroom, isn't it only natural for me to enter a classroom?"
"But it's not class time." Snape inhaled deeply.
"But you owe me thirteen sessions of post-class tutoring, 'dear' Professor." William casually sat across from Snape, replying unabashedly.
Indeed, since he had left Snape entirely off-balance at the Duel Club, they hadn't spoken privately again, not even during Potions class. Snape avoided the quadrant of the classroom where William sat.
This led the fifth-year Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff wizards to a realization that any of the eight spots surrounding William in Potions class were absolutely safe. Even if you blew up a cauldron there, Snape wouldn't bat an eye.
So, the spots around William became highly sought after.
"...What do you want?"
Snape's tone could hardly be called pleasant; he could barely restrain himself from casting an evil curse on the boy—but reason held his hand back, not because of status or any muddled issues, but simply because he knew he couldn't win.
Professor McGonagall certainly wouldn't appear in the Potions Classroom to extricate him.
"Where's Dumbledore?"
William didn't beat around the bush and asked directly.
"I don't know, maybe you should go to his office and ask instead of coming to the Slytherin Dungeon." Snape lowered his head, trying to focus on the little wizard's paper before him as he marked the parchment with a red-inked quill, "The password is 'Lemon Sherbet.'"
"I went, he's not there."
"Then you should ask Minerva McGonagall, she's the Deputy Headmistress."
"I actually have one more thing to discuss with you."
"What?"
"Voldemort's diary, that night, did Dumbledore say anything to you after I left?" William squinted, watching Snape's expression change closely—on that night when he took the diary to find Dumbledore, Snape had been there, having listened to the whole conversation.
"...No." The quill continued moving over the parchment, and after a moment of thought, Snape casually shook his head.
"Is that so?" William nodded, "Then do you know that the diary is now in Harry Potter's hands?"
"?"
The writing paused, and Snape instinctively looked up, staring hard into William's eyes, trying to confirm he hadn't misheard.
"Stop glaring, no matter how wide you open your eyes, it's still the truth."
Unfortunately, all he received was confirmation, as William continued speaking, "I just saw the diary in Harry's backpack. If this has nothing to do with you, then there are only two possibilities left—the Headmaster's Office was burgled..."
Or, Dumbledore did it himself.
No need for William to spell it out, Snape immediately understood the unspoken latter half of the sentence.
"Impossible." He reflexively countered.
"Do I have any reason to lie to you? If you knew where that old man was, I wouldn't bother talking to you about this."
"...He's supposed to preside over a Wizengamot meeting today, about the 'Edinburgh Fire Dragon' incident."
After thinking for a moment, Snape slowly replied, marking a 'P' on the paper he was grading.
"Will he be back tonight?"
"...I don't know."