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While Ian was still pondering his teacher's cryptic ssage, elsewhere in the castle, Riddle had also been given his own bedroom.
It was equally spacious and bright. Though not as extravagant as Ian's quarters, it was still certainly a guest chamber fit for soone important. Of course, Young Morgan would not neglect a wizard.
Even if this wizard was a servant.
"Miss Morgan, you are truly generous. It is an honor to be allowed to stay in such a place." Riddle bowed deeply, once again donning his mask of humility and gentleness.
"There's no need for thanks; this is simple courtesy."
Facing the wizard who had earlier cursed her repeatedly with ill intent, Morgan only smiled politely in return. She displayed the genuine refinent of a noble: not growing proud at others' flattery, nor angry at their rudeness, at least, outwardly.
As for what went on in the heart of this still-young "villainess," perhaps only Ian could guess.
"I apologize for my earlier rudeness and offense. Truly, the evil of Dark magic has already corroded my mind, I hope you won't hold it against ." Riddle was still scrambling to salvage his image, even going so far as to dean himself, to dean the very Dark magic he had always revered.
Was it Cowardice?
No.
It ca from the heart!
"Your attitude… how very interesting." Young Morgan could, of course, sense the shift in Riddle. With a thoughtful look, she cast him a deep glance before turning away.
In the clearing, only Riddle remained, along with the Stupefied Malfoy who still required his care. Watching the little girl's retreating figure, Riddle exhaled in relief, then lowered his gaze to the Malfoy slung over his shoulder.
His complicated heart began spinning new sches.
While the Dark Lord's mind was at work, the night deepened. Silence reigned, broken only by the faint glow of candles inside the castle. In her chambers, Miss Morgan sat alone, cradling an ancient to as she studied its forbidden knowledge. The thod she had used to transform the farm pigs clearly originated from this book.
Her bedroom was no less lavish: the walls were adorned with portraits of her House ancestors, shelves lined with rare volus and priceless works of art. Yet her eyes never strayed from the book in her hands.
After a long while, "Today was truly full of surprises."
Perhaps unable to maintain her concentration, young Morgan finally closed the book. Its cover glead with embossed golden letters:
The Dark Bible
Dedicated to those who, for the sake of the light, are willing to step into the darkness. The words on the cover were worn with age, yet still revealed exquisite craftsmanship.
"My teacher… what a peculiar fate."
The great window stood open, letting in the night breeze. Sheer curtains drifted gently in the wind. Sitting at her bedside with The Dark Bible in hand, Miss Morgan whispered softly, lifting her gaze to the star-flecked heavens beyond, stars that seed to murmur secrets of the cosmos.
"To think I truly found a powerful wizard to teach magic." She harbored not a shred of doubt about Ian's strength, and it wasn't only because of the shock he had brought her back on the farm.
The young witch lowered her eyes once more to the book's gilded cover. Beside the golden letters, a smaller line of text revealed the author's na.
"You must be very, very old…" Her whisper was still little more than self-talk.
And then, her fingertips traced the book's spine, lingering on the author's na: divh. Under candlelight, that unusual na shone all the more vividly.
Her witch's intuition stirred.
She could feel it.
This would be a na and a riddle that would haunt her life forever.
As the night deepened, the castle grew utterly silent. Morgan closed 'The Dark Bible' and carefully returned it to a hidden compartnt in her bookshelf. Then she moved to her bed, lay down upon soft silk sheets, and closed her eyes. Yet her mind kept replaying the day's events, filled with both excitent and unease for what lay ahead.
"What kind of beginning will tomorrow bring?" She wondered silently, before gradually drifting into sleep. Night always passes unnoticed by most.
At dawn, sunlight slipped through the heavy curtains, scattering across the room. Ian awoke amidst the soft silk bedding, stretching lazily as he breathed in the faint fragrance lingering in the chamber.
Looking around, Ian still found it hard to believe he was sleeping in an ancient castle. Of course, Hogwarts was also an ancient castle, but the feeling of living in this bygone age was sothing else entirely, sothing far more surreal.
"What a dreamlike journey." Ian whispered the words, then rose, dressed, and washed quickly before stepping out of his room, anticipation brimming within him as he prepared to explore this strange new era.
Dragons and magic.
Knights and wizards.
This was a brilliant age and it was about to unfold before his eyes, and what better way to learn history than this?
Yet just as he stepped outside, Ian caught the scent of sothing strange in the air.
A pungent sll, like so kind of herb boiled down, drifted through the air, mixed with a faint, indescribable sickly sweetness.
"Potions?" Following the scent, Ian saw Riddle crouched by the window, fully absorbed in brewing. Strange-shaped bottles were scattered across the floor.
"Where did you get the ingredients?"
Ian looked at Riddle in surprise as he busied himself with a dark magic ritual. Ian could only vaguely recognize what Riddle's refining had produced, after all, half-blood prince hadn't taught him this much about black magic.
"There are wizards in this castle." Riddle raised his head and, seeing it was Ian, a flicker of unease passed across his face, though he quickly smoothed it away.
He didn't answer directly where the materials had co from. Perhaps the Dark Lord was ashad to admit he had stolen them.
"Using black magic to counter the influence of black magic?" Ian could roughly guess Riddle was brewing sothing, but he couldn't quite grasp why Riddle would bother.
The guy was in peak condition, he could drag horses for dozens of kiloters without losing his breath!
"Even though you brought Malfoy back, Herpo's transformation wasn't completed. He still has serious problems with his body. I'm trying to save him."
Riddle had spent the entire previous night deep in thought.
This was his plan.
"Huh?"
Ian raised his eyebrows in surprise. "You… you're actually brewing potions to heal Malfoy? Is this really the Tom Riddle I know?"
Ian's tone was full of astonishnt.
Faced with Ian's teasing, Riddle forced a smile as he continued his work.
"After all, he's my servant. I can't just stand by and watch him remain Stupefied forever, can I?" Riddle explained, his words carrying a rare sense of responsibility.
His reasoning was sound.
And yet, Ian couldn't help but give the Dark Lord a slow once-over.
"Riddle, you've changed," Ian said suddenly, his voice tinged with approval. "You actually have a sense of responsibility now. I'm impressed."
Ian gave him a thumbs-up.
Riddle again forced a smile in response.
But his eyes dared not et Ian's for too long. After all, how could the Dark Lord be so benevolent? He was Voldemort, the one whose very na made countless people tremble in fear!
A conscience?
Impossible!
Riddle knew he had his own sches.
The Malfoy family had sworn loyalty to him. And so, now, the Malfoys had to shoulder their due responsibility. As a servant who once served as the Dark Lord's vessel, Malfoy had to bear the suffering in place of his great master!
Yes! … Malfoy must beco that damned dark entity's stable boy! That way, the Dark Lord could turn his attention to the matters that truly deserved the Dark Lord's consideration! This was Riddle's thinking. Last night, he had revealed his peerless brilliance while also managing to preserve his dignity by flattering Ian.
The Dark Lord, of course, remained unmatched and invincible.
But should an enemy descend from the heavens, well, that couldn't be helped. Riddle had rebuilt his confidence the night before, showing astonishing psychological resilience.
So this was what they called talent.
Perhaps that was it.
(End of Chapter)
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