Hogwarts: I Am Such a Model Wizard

Chapter 224: Horcrux

Facing Voldemort’s offer, Kyle felt no excitement whatsoever. His heart was completely unmoved.

Just think back to what that other famous “villain” had said sixty years ago: For the greater good. It was grand, stirring, almost poetic. But Voldemort? He only spoke of power and status—vague, empty promises that any wise person could see through. Frankly, his old-fashioned rhetoric might fool simple minds like Quirrell’s, but not anyone with an ounce of sense.

Still, Kyle supposed Voldemort didn’t have much else to offer. Every prized artifact he’d gathered—Slytherin’s Locket, Hufflepuff’s Cup—had been twisted into Horcruxes, meaning they couldn’t exactly be shared as rewards.

And if Voldemort did possess a more inspiring slogan, something that rallied others—I am the Chosen One, the Only One, or Fight for a better tomorrow—perhaps Riddle, not Dumbledore, would be headmaster today.

Protected by Occlumency, Kyle’s thoughts remained hidden, so Voldemort saw only his silence. Interpreting this as hesitation, Voldemort assumed his offer wasn’t enticing enough.

“What a greedy boy…” he rasped. “Very well. What if I could offer you immortality… like me? Free from the decay of age, from the fear of death—eternal in this world!”

Now, this was finally something with a bit of substance.

“That’s actually what I was hoping to ask about,” Kyle replied thoughtfully, his gaze steady. “Mr. Voldemort, could you tell me more about making Horcruxes…”

“Kill him!” Voldemort shrieked, rage and shock lacing his voice.

The word Horcrux was his most guarded secret. How this boy knew about it, Voldemort couldn’t guess, but it didn’t matter—Kyle had to die.

Quirrell, clearly eager to obey, spun around and raised his wand, a faint green glow forming at its tip. “Avada—”

But Kyle was faster. As Voldemort shouted the order, Kyle snapped open his suitcase.

With a thunderous growl, Fluffy, the Three-Headed Dog, leapt out and clamped his powerful jaws around Quirrell’s arm.

“Crack!”

A sharp snapping echoed through the room as Quirrell’s arm fractured, his wand clattering to the ground. He scrabbled to retrieve it, but before he could, a blast of searing flames surged over him. Norbert, the Norwegian Ridgeback dragon, had swooped in behind Kyle, sending torrents of dragon fire raging through the air.

Already weakened from being Voldemort’s host, drained by both the parasitic connection and the vicious Chomping Cabbages, Quirrell had little strength left. His screams were short-lived, snuffed out almost instantly by the relentless fire.

When Kyle finally extinguished the flames, Quirrell lay gasping, his chest rising and falling faintly. He was barely alive—only the Unicorn blood he’d consumed had kept him from dying outright.

With a low growl, Fluffy lunged, sinking his teeth into Quirrell’s side. Norbert, hovering nearby, rumbled and prepared another burst of fire, ready to incinerate what little life was left in him at a moment’s notice.

”I was going to mention that earlier...” Kyle walked over, shaking his head slightly. ”Pointing a wand at someone so carelessly is very dangerous, Professor Quirrell.”

“Who are you?” Voldemort’s red eyes blazed with murderous intent. If sheer will could kill, Kyle would have been struck down countless times by now. Of course, Voldemort’s gaze could indeed kill under normal circumstances—but he was far too weakened to perform wandless magic. And with Quirrell in such a debilitated state, there was no life force left for Voldemort to drain.

“Mr. Voldemort,” Kyle said coolly, “your time is valuable. So if you don’t have anything useful to say, let’s not waste it.”

He paused, eyes unblinking. “Now, tell me… how are Horcruxes made?”

At this, Voldemort seemed to relax, his expression dark but composed. “How did you learn about Horcruxes?” he asked.

Kyle smiled, amused. “It’s actually a funny story. You know the Room of Requirement—the enchanted room on the eighth floor?”

He chuckled, “Guess what I found in there... Honestly, that plaster bust you hid it on is a bit of an eyesore.”

“Ravenclaw’s Diadem,” Voldemort replied in a flat tone.

“Precisely,” Kyle continued. “Of course, since you’re the one who put it there, I figured you’d know. At first, I was thrilled to find it, but then… I realized something was wrong.”

Kyle’s expression grew thoughtful. “I spent the entire school year searching through my family’s library. Eventually, I confirmed that the diadem had been made into a Horcrux.”

“That discovery piqued my curiosity, but none of the books I had went into enough detail about the actual process. I even scoured the restricted section here at Hogwarts, but there was nothing useful.”

“Dumbledore…” Voldemort sneered. “That hypocrite probably collected every book on Horcruxes himself.”

“Exactly. So, naturally, I came to ask you. I couldn’t exactly ask the headmaster for help with this topic.”

“But why should I tell you?” Voldemort sneered, his eyes narrowing with malicious glee. “You could kill Quirrell right now, for all I care. He’s nothing but a second-rate servant, an ill-fitting tool. Even if he dies, it wouldn’t make a difference to me.”

“I take it you’re not going to tell me, then,” Kyle replied with a sigh.

But Voldemort’s expression suddenly shifted. “No… I’ve changed my mind,” he said with a disturbing smile. “As a reward for finding the diadem, I’ll tell you all about Horcruxes!”

His laugh rang out, sharp and derisive. “Hehehe… Dumbledore, my dear professor, would never teach you something like this. But I will. What can you do about that, great Dumbledore?”

“Listen carefully,” Voldemort continued in a low, venomous voice, “to create a Horcrux, you must first take a life. But more importantly, you must master a specific spell that allows you to split and manipulate your own soul…”

Kyle couldn’t help raising an eyebrow. He had intended to pressure Voldemort into sharing his knowledge, perhaps even by offering him the diadem as leverage. But to Kyle’s surprise, Voldemort agreed readily—simply out of a desire to defy Dumbledore?

All this because of his obsession with proving himself against Dumbledore? Kyle thought, half-amused, half-baffled. Honestly, is this rivalry or something more?

But that was Voldemort’s business, not his.

With a quick, cautious glance at Voldemort, Kyle took out a Self-Writing Quill and parchment, preparing to take notes. The room shifted in mood, transforming almost into a classroom—though this “professor” was far more dangerous than any Hogwarts instructor.

To Kyle’s surprise, Voldemort did seem to have a talent for teaching. His explanations were clear and concise, honing in on the key elements and summarizing complex, dark magic into manageable parts. Even a subject as intricate as Horcruxes took only minutes for Voldemort to explain without a single unnecessary word.

When he’d finished, Voldemort regarded Kyle with a cold sneer. “I look forward to the day when Dumbledore discovers you’ve made a Horcrux… I can only imagine the look on his face… heh.”