Kai Adler, walking back through the quiet castle corridors, was still deep in thought.
Tom Riddle is Voldemort?
The same Dark Lord who threw the entire British wizarding world into chaos and was eventually defeated by an infant?
He glanced down at the worn black notebook in his hand—the same one that still pulsed faintly with a residual fragment of Voldemort's soul.
Which meant… he hadn't truly died. Not completely.
His lips curved faintly.
This is getting more and more interesting.
Tossing the notebook into the air and catching it again, Kai refocused.
He'd satisfied his curiosity—for now. But it was time to deal with more practical matters.
For instance, he needed to have a very personal chat with the previous owner of this diary.
Just as he turned to head toward Lockhart's office, a sharp pain suddenly flared behind his left eye.
His vision whitened. His pupil turned pale, like snow-frosted glass, and a fragmented image flashed across his mind:
—The entrance of the girls' lavatory on the fifth floor. The door creaked slightly open.
Inside, someone was moving… rummaging through the space.
Then it was gone.
His vision returned, and the pain faded as swiftly as it had come, though cold sweat now beaded his brow.
Kai wiped his forehead and scowled faintly.
That old man's magic is still unreliable.
Few in the world knew that Gellert Grindelwald had been born with the gift of prophecy—an exceedingly rare trait, and certainly not one that could be taught.
Yet before Kai left Nurmengard, Grindelwald, ever the visionary, had done something both brilliant and irreversible:
He had condensed his prophetic power into a fragment of magic—a "seed"—and implanted it into Kai's left eye.
The cost? Grindelwald permanently lost his own prophetic gift.
Because the magic wasn't truly Kai's, he couldn't control it. It activated sporadically—erratically—and every time it did, the backlash with his own innate magic caused searing pain.
Worse still, the visions were usually vague. Blurry images. A general direction. A flash of danger.
The last time it had activated was when he passed the fifth-floor corridor with Hermione. That's what had led him to the diary in the first place.
Now it had shown him someone searching that same bathroom again.
He narrowed his eyes.
He already knew who it would be.
Meanwhile, Professor Gilderoy Lockhart was on the verge of a nervous collapse.
When he had first accepted the position at Hogwarts, he had imagined a life of admiration and grandeur. Adoring students, respectful colleagues, a gilded legacy.
Instead…
Everywhere he walked, people looked at him with amused derision. As if he were a joke. A fraud.
It had all started a month ago.
He had intended to redeem himself in class with a new magical creature—something safe, manageable.
And yet… he had failed again.
And that boy—Kai Adler—had saved the day again.
With ease. With elegance.
Now, Lockhart was an afterthought. A clown in peacock robes.
But everything had changed the day he found that black notebook on the corridor floor.
It was old, worn—but there was something compelling about it. Something… magnetic.
He had thought it was left for him by an admirer. Perhaps too shy to ask for an autograph.
Chuckling to himself, Lockhart had signed his name with a flourish.
Then the words began to vanish.
New ones appeared in their place:
[I know your troubles. I can help you.]
At first, Lockhart had been wary. Then intrigued. Then… enthralled.
The notebook began to speak of power. Of glory. Of being remembered not as a failure, but as a legend.
In the days that followed, he began to have vivid dreams.
Dreams of controlling a monstrous serpent… of chasing Kai Adler through dark corridors… of triumphant vengeance.
He'd laughed when he first awoke—until he saw the petrified body of a student in the hallway the next day. The very same student from his "dream."
They weren't dreams.
The notebook had been controlling him.
But it had also taught him real spells. Techniques he had never mastered on his own.
He was improving. Growing stronger. That was real.
The dreams continued. Sometimes he would see Dumbledore.
In those moments, he would slip away, hide in the dark.
But the notebook kept urging him: Open the Chamber. Release the monster. Fulfill your potential.
Eventually, during one moment of lucidity—perhaps the last shred of his original self—Lockhart managed to resist.
He had taken the diary and hurled it into a cubicle in the old girls' bathroom on the fifth floor. The one no one used.
He thought he was free.
But he wasn't.
Days passed, and paranoia set in. What if someone found it? What if they traced it to him?
He returned—desperate to retrieve and hide it properly. But the notebook was gone.
Panic gripped him.
Had someone taken it?
Did they already know?
Would the Aurors come for him in the night?
He packed in haste, planning to flee the school that very night.
But his cowardice soon gave way to delusion.
No one had come yet. Maybe it was just Peeves who took it. Maybe it wasn't even found. Maybe… he could still fix this.
He raced back to the lavatory.
This time, he searched everywhere—wild-eyed, muttering to himself—until a voice behind him froze the blood in his veins:
"Professor… are you looking for this?"
The next morning, the Great Hall was lively with the usual morning bustle.
Hermione, Harry, and Ron made their way inside, but Hermione looked pale and distracted.
"He still hasn't come back," she muttered, her brows drawn together.
Harry tried to reassure her. "He's probably fine. It's Kai. Nothing ever gets to him."
"But he's never stayed out all night," she said, voice tight.
Ron shrugged, clearly unconcerned. "That guy's always sneaking off. Maybe he found another secret passage or whatever."
Hermione glared at him.
Just then, a commotion erupted near the main staircase. Students were gathering, whispering and gasping.
The three pushed their way forward—Hermione leading the charge.
And when they reached the center of the crowd… they froze.
Lying on the ground, pale as death, eyes closed, was Kai Adler.
Hermione's knees buckled slightly, and her eyes instantly brimmed with tears.
"Kai!"