Horcrux Research Journal

Due to the preparations for the N.E.W.T.s, the same procedures were repeated in the seventh-year classroom.

However, there were fewer students in the seventh year, and those who could attend the advanced classes were also not lacking in achievement, so it was considerably easier. But the fourth and sixth years were much more interesting.

As usual, Tver brought them the orb game, only this time it was an advanced version. The light balls moved faster and now required the students to use magic to attack them.

Of course, unlike his previous demonstrations, the students only needed to master the Stunning Spell, Impediment Jinx, and Disarming Charm. Otherwise, with the students' current level of knowledge, few could play the game well.

Beyond the usual class content, Tver also brought several small creatures he was keeping to class, teaching the students how to handle creatures like Grindylows, Kappas, and Red Caps, which were not very dangerous.

Compared to Quirrell's dull classes, the students instantly realized that the difference between one professor and another could be bigger than that between them and a pig!

...

After finishing the weekly Dumbledore's philosophy class, Tver took some extra time to retrieve treasures from the Room of Requirement. Having done all this, he slowly made his way to his office.

Truthfully, he somewhat regretted agreeing to Dumbledore to take on the seventh-year classroom. Now, he had to spend at least seven hours each day teaching, and excluding rest times, he had little left for researching the Philosopher's Stone and Horcruxes.

Next academic year, he definitely needed the headmaster to find another Defence Against the Dark Arts professor to share the workload, otherwise, even the Dark Lord would be too tired to think about conquering the world!

Muttering loudly to himself in his mind, Tver entered his brightly lit office, filled with the rustling sound of rapid writing. These sounds came from two crude dummies with feather quills in their hands, sitting in a corner of the room, continuously grading exams.

However, they mostly graded multiple-choice and true/false questions; Tver had to grade the essay questions himself. Recognizing textual content turned out to be more challenging than he imagined; after all, dummies lacked real intelligence and could only recognize the complete meaning of a sentence, unable to discern changes in words.

Unless he personally controlled and concentrated on managing the dummies, but that was no different from grading the papers himself!

Throwing his hat on the table, Tver checked the dummies' graded exams for a while to ensure they were accurate, then focused intently on dealing with the Horcruxes. He decided to follow his teacher's advice, using a survival of the fittest approach, keeping only the Horcruxes he could control.

Currently displayed before him were a crown, a ring, and the Philosopher's Stone. The Philosopher's Stone faintly emitted a trace of vitality, bringing a bit of life to the several evil spirits in the office.

The crown was old and rustic, and if not for the fact that it was absorbing life force, one might think it was just an ordinary crown. But the ring was different, seemingly sensing the aura of the Philosopher's Stone, it couldn't help but jump out.

"Tver, my dear friend, I knew you wouldn't forget me!" the ring said nauseatingly. "There's really no rush, you've been so busy lately. It wouldn't hurt to wait until you're free."

"You're right!" Tver exclaimed, enlightened. He casually tossed the ring into a drawer, "I'll deal with you when I find the time."

"Tver you %￥#—!"

Once the drawer closed, tranquility returned. Tver then picked up the crown and began to examine it closely.

The most striking feature was the green gem embedded at the center, cradled by an eagle, resembling an eye that could peer into the hearts of men.

The crown's once brilliant gold appeared oxidized, now dull and lackluster.

Yet unchanged was the famous Ravenclaw motto etched at its base—"Wit Beyond measure is man's greatest treasure."

The signs of decay on the crown were not the work of time, but rather the remnants of dark magic left by Voldemort when creating a Horcrux.

Legend had it that Ravenclaw had enchanted it to enhance the wearer's intelligence.

However, whether it was due to the Horcrux or not, Tver felt not a hint of positive magic from it.

Or perhaps, one must wear it to feel its effects?

With a sense of anticipation, Tver gently placed the crown on his head.

His smile faded... his expression became vacant...

"I should've known better!"

Ten minutes later, he snatched the crown off and tossed it onto the table, where it bounced a couple of times.

Mixing with Horcruxes seemed to be lowering his IQ, too terrible!

Yet, the violent action seemed to have angered Voldemort's soul within the crown.

"Child, put me back on your head, and this time, I promise you will feel the increase in wisdom!"

Tver solemnly set the crown before him, then drew his wand.

"I've heard that one before, seven years ago. Try to be more original next time."

"Have you?"

Tver didn't respond but pressed his wand against the green gem on the crown.

"Wait, what are you doing? Ah—"

As the tip of his wand emitted magic, a small strand of Voldemort's soul was drawn out, floating like a wisp of black thread.

The already tattered soul was further stripped, causing the crown to emit piercing shrieks, mingled with traces of dark magic trying to corrupt Tver's heart.

It indeed affected him.

"Let your little friends teach you about my rules."

He stuffed the crown back into the drawer, focusing on the strand of soul.

As if having done this countless times, he expertly placed the soul fragment into a small dish filled with magic, creating a contained environment.

Voldemort's visage quickly appeared in the dish.

Matured and more sinister than the ring, devoid of its bookish air, his face already hinted at the madness of a soul torn asunder.

"Boy, I never thought you'd dare study souls!"

Voldemort's voice was distorted, the fragment too small to possess a Horcrux's independent thinking.

It was akin to a painting within a frame, capable only of repeating memorized lines.

So, Tver had heard these words countless times before.

"Yeah, yeah, Lord Voldemort, I have no interest in delving deeper into dark magic or splitting my soul to achieve immortality."

Tver answered nonchalantly, even though Voldemort hadn't asked.

Then, while Voldemort was lost in his disoriented memories, Tver reached in, mingling his fingers with the soul.

"Tom Riddle," a wisp of blue-purple flame danced on his fingertips, "would you pledge your loyalty to me?"

Voldemort's soul churned violently, though the flame continuously caused him searing pain, he still summoned all his strength, bellowing furiously.

"Presumptuous—"

"Snap."

Crushed by Tver.

With a look of disdain, he shook off his hand, having anticipated this response; Voldemort's pride wasn't something to be easily subdued.

But no matter, he had plenty of time to experiment.