"Tom Marvolo Riddle..."
Voldemort fell silent upon hearing the declaration; any response to his opponent's taunts was now irrelevant, but his identity had been revealed nonetheless. Well, it's not like he was hiding, just a few details...
"It's not like it's some secret, it just represents a distant past before my transcendence..." Voldemort replied, though slightly uneasy.
The demon-boy with purple eyes began to laugh. "HAHAHAha, Transcendence? You're the biggest idiot I've ever seen." After his statements in the child's voice, he took a small pause, walking towards the Dark Lord. "Out of sheer ignorance, you sliced your soul into six parts, encasing them in vessels through a heinous ritual. Throwing away the potential of a talented wizard, for this!"
:(
"Ah, that was your little secret, huh?" Vincent chuckled softly and continued as if whispering into Tom Riddle's ears, "Don't worry, your secret is safe with me!"
Voldemort's eyes widened, his pupils dilated rapidly, his jaw clenched, distorting his entire face; he was enraged. For the first time in a while, he waved his hand in ordered motions with his wand and declared, "How dare you!"
(Avada Kedavra).
:(
Voldemort looked bewildered as he heard the demon child burst into laughter, rolling on the floor. The spell that came from his wand was not a green death ray, but soap bubbles; in fact, his wand transformed into soap bubbles that flew away from his hands, materializing again into a wand next a Vincent.
"Well, you have a pretty cool wand, I think I'll keep it."
Voldemort, exasperated, furious, not understanding what was happening, asked, "How?"
"Simple, my guest, you are in a mental dimension under my control, meaning, I control the rules here," Vincent replied, sharing half-truths with Voldemort. He could currently control the domain, but as this dimension was created from a bridge connecting the souls of both, the dark wizard has some level of control here, he should have. Vincent has been distracting and destabilizing Voldemort while working to gain greater control of this plane. Growing slowly while his adversary lost himself in purposeless fury. He used again a large amount of demonic essence, totaling [100,000: Demonic Essences]. Imposing a severe magical restriction on his victim.
Voldemort, in turn, found himself increasingly anxious; things were not going his way, he was losing ground and didn't even understand how or why, but there was one thing that never left him, that he could always rely on, that was his magic. 'He would get out of this place, he could do it.' Closing his eyes, he tried to channel the true essence of his magic and could feel it deep within his innermost being, trying to reach it at any cost. But the closer he got, the farther it seemed to go, leading him to try more desperately. In this cat-and-mouse chase for his magic, he felt his connection being cut, although he managed to reach the last spark of his magic, trying to protect it at all costs.
Focusing all his will, desire, ambition, and pride on that single spark, he would use it to ascend back to the grand flames that were his magic, and he was supposed to succeed. But his magic didn't respond, and the last spark went out. For, unfortunately for the Dark Lord, Vincent used another [20,000: Essences], channeling this demonic energy to definitively cut off Voldemort's access to magic in that dimension.
Voldemort let out an inconsolable scream. "MY MAGIC, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY MAGIC?"
"Magic? What are you talking about, crazy? You're one of those grown-up kids who believe in these things, hahaha, Voldemort is a fool." Vincent said, forcing the childish accent, singing in a musical rhythmic tone; this seemed to infuriate Voldemort even more.
While continuing his taunts, instigating his enemy, Vincent thought about his investment in the fight. 'Damn, a year and a half of hard work gathering demonic essence, invested in defeating this wizard, I could have it all with minimal effort, but now it's done, now that I have his soul trapped here, I won't let it go easily, I'll corrupt it, destroy it, and then use it for some purpose, and even then it would have been a waste.'
After his reflective moments, Vincent let his entire childish mask fade away, expressing a cold look that simply looked terrifying on the child's body that represented him; it conveyed hatred, malice, and abominable desires that shouldn't appear in a child. His elegant horns and his cute boyish face did not make him less frightening; on the contrary, you felt that something was wrong, that something very bad would happen to whoever was the target of that gaze.
"Ah, you finally showed your true face? I mean, I don't believe this is your real face, but I see your shadow, dirtier than any magic I've ever used. You're not much different from me in the end, are you?" Voldemort mocked his enemy but still asked a final question. "What I don't understand is why someone like you is helping Dumbledore?"
Vincent looked at him indifferently and said with an apathetic voice. "You're right, let's say I'm not Holiest child in the room... hehe, like you? No... we're completely different, you're just a joke, a helpless little boy with Dumbledore's balls complex. But as for helping Dumbledore, I'm not doing it for him. I do it for myself, for my hypocrisy, and for my revenge, and if Dumbledore gets in my way, I guarantee it won't end well for him, although with you, it's easier. You're an idiot who self mutilated your soul, leaving it so fragile."
'Revenge? A concrete clue, if I can understand more, I'll try to instigate more answers,' thought Tom Riddle shrewdly, perhaps this would give him something to use.
But while Voldemort was lost in thought, he heard the child's voice return to a cheerful, mocking tone. "Well, I've prepared a very fun trip for you, I hope you enjoy it, bye-bye!"
Before he could prepare himself, Tom Riddle felt the world twist and change before him; amidst the dizziness, he closed his eyes and, when he opened them, found himself in a familiar yet distant place that marked a good part of his memory, Wool's Orphanage. But before he could take in the appearance of the place, he felt his mind increasingly violated, as if all secrets were being taken from him or even manipulating his memories, limiting them.
Tunnb...
After regaining some of his dizziness, he couldn't help but hear someone calling his name.
"Mr. Riddle!" ... "Mr. Riddle!"
Recognizing the voice as that of the orphanage caretaker, Matron Edith Cartwright, he finally responded. "Yes, Mrs. Cart." As he responded, his returned senses made him realize they were at a long communal dining table, with a soup that smelled strange, moldy, and many undernourished children sitting together.
:(
A/N: I should post this chapter at the beginning of the week and write another one this week. Unfortunately, I caught a strong cold and was bedridden for 3 days. I'm better now, and next week I plan to write the last 3 chapters that conclude this arc. I hope you're enjoying the story. For me, it's been quite interesting to reimagine the world of Harry Potter, changing some things, many things. But if you found the development too slow so far, don't worry; we'll have a time skip to the Hogwarts period soon.
Thank you all.