A/N: This chapter was particularly challenging to write; apologies for the delay. I hope you enjoy it.
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"This is so tragic, it's almost funny..."
The young white-haired child was in the tangled center of dreams, memories of desires, gains, losses, or what the host liked and hated. Everything that essentially shaped that person, or deeply connected their existence to their soul and essence. He cut, changed, created, modifying every aspect to create a realistic enough world to trap a soul and keep it captive. Who was the boy's victim?
His victim was a man who had once been powerful, acclaimed for the fear and terror he caused, Lord Voldemort, or Tom Marvolo Riddle.
The albino child made a hand sign, seemingly moving the images forward. They showed a child lying down, focusing mainly on the deplorable conditions of the boy. He lay in a bed, with severe bruises on his body, thin and decadent, shaved head with sores, and lifeless eyes marked by lack of sleep, expressions of despair. Yet, he maintained a firm look of defiance, of not submitting to the torture he suffered, or perhaps hope. Feeling proud of what he had done, Vincent whispered, "Poor Tom."
Vincent then continued to emphasize his voice in an ironic tone, "Poor Tom, it's almost admirable to see your resilience when it seems like the whole world wants to screw you over! But even the most wretched beings know that you deserve all of this."
Images of what he had done passed through his mind, further emphasizing his point, "If you knew that any fight or resistance is as futile as a person jumping off a cliff wanting to fly, though without wings or any mechanism to make such a feat possible. They may feel the sensation of the wind passing through them as if in flight, feel the adrenaline or the freedom of no longer being grounded, but it all ends in seconds tragically and lethally, a direct fall to the ground, crushed by the weight of oneself and gravity entangled over flesh, skin, and bones.
Dead by one's passion!
For you, there is no hope!"
For a total of (66 Mental Days / 66 Seconds in the Real World) since the moment Vincent gained control over Tom Riddle's mind, ruthlessly manipulating and shaping a kind of prison for him, an imaginary world to deceive and break Tom's mind. This was not an easy task, of course. The specific case of this dark lord, perhaps like almost all, is that he is a sociopath with strong psychopathic traits. This is reflected in a person who lacks significant internal emotional movement. To illustrate this, imagine that a person, or you, accidentally cut themselves with a knife. They would feel the obvious pain, but also the emotions involved; it could be anger, surprise, sadness, etc. Now, for someone with emotional dysfunction and severe psychopathic traits, only the pain of the cut would be processed, without any emotional appeal involved in the cut. In general, they may have an emotionally cold mind, though it doesn't mean they don't have emotions. They do, but the functioning is different.
So, how is it possible to manipulate someone with these characteristics? ... They are still human, insensitivity does not mean complete absence, as even these people have desires, wishes, and fears. The main difference between them and us is the way they process the world. They see it logically and less emotionally, while we see it emotionally, lived, and also logically. Having a mind with psychopathic traits doesn't make someone better than an ordinary person, just different, and with a significant weakness: internal emotional imbalance. In Voldemort's case, the lack of emotional control, particularly anger, was the main feeling that drove him, to seek power, seeking control, developing impulsivity, egocentrism, and internal isolation. He is the type who feels alone even when surrounded by a crowd.
Vincent's strategy was incredibly simple, using the experience with the mind that Vincent acquired during his life as a demon, he easily found the way, a continuous challenge, but more likely to succeed. Placing Riddle in an environment where he was more vulnerable, the orphanage fit like a glove. Enhancing the realism of the place using memories to create a first layer of familiarity and compliance, then manipulating the mind to become confused, restricting memories. Of course, the mind is fragile, so everything was done progressively, without abrupt movements. The goal is for Voldemort to accept the new reality as real, sinking into layers and layers of mental webs and traps.
From this point on, a strategy of progressive physical and mental torture was used, such as hunger, social pressure, isolation, and lack of sleep. An environment that cruelly antagonizes the individual, trying to subdue him, but still gives him a sense that he can fight, that there is a problem to be solved or an enemy to be defeated. This was delivered to him and to the strange white-haired boy who has a peculiar ability similar to his own, is always hostile, and can use magic that is unique to him. This was the key point to keep him busy, trying to defeat the "Non-existent Enemy." This scenario of constant conflict and confrontation kept him occupied, playing a true game of cat and mouse.
The main point of Vincent's approach was to remove the supports of the psyche itself, in its most intimate mind, destroying its values and beliefs. He values magic, and shows someone who has magic and is better than him; he values intelligence, shows him being surpassed by someone even more intelligent; he values authority, shows someone gaining authority while he loses it, burying himself in social chaos. Wearing him out, making him feel inefficient and incapable, until reaching his lowest point.
Of course, all this is just Vincent's strategy to fragment and delude Voldemort's mind while orchestrating his main attack. His goal had not changed; he wanted Tom Riddle's soul and used constant attacks of his demonic essence to stain, and weaken, an soul firmly linked to the body and mind. An attack on multiple fronts like this has proven to be the most effective way to acquire souls.
But all of this had served its purpose; it was time to end this, with one last scene...The afternoon at the orphanage presented itself as a cold one, thanks to the light but constant rain falling on it. The children seemed to be following a programmed and restricted routine under the matron's orders, including Tom, who limped up the stairs. The irregular sound of his steps echoed on the wooden stairs; he was hurt. This happened because he actively fell off the stairs during the past month, and his wounds were neglected due to a lack of proper medical supplies. As if it couldn't get worse, he was chased by fellow orphans who took his food, and his best clothes, and tormented him daily with insults or even fights.
This wouldn't be a problem normally because Tom could put them in their place, using his special ability, or performing magic—the same reason strange things happen around him, the thing that made him feel special, even though he had nothing but being an abandoned child without a home or anything. The problem was that his magic wasn't working. This forced him to seek different measures; he would have succeeded in sabotaging and putting these pests in their place, but then that boy appeared. The white-haired, purple-eyed boy, his sworn enemy, stole his magical power and declared himself under the name Moon Rabbit, although it was strange because he couldn't speak or remember the boy's true name. That was a matter for another day, as he was called to the matron's office; apparently, someone came to see him. Who would it be? Not a family wanting to adopt, not an older child like him.
He pushed the large wooden door, irritated by its creaking. Inside the room were the old matron and also a well-dressed middle-aged man, a tight three-piece suit in light gray, a well-groomed beard, and short hair, strangely familiar to Tom even though he had never seen him. He waited in silence, with attentive eyes, trying to force the secrets and mysteries of the cracks in the wall, or whatever he was doing.
"Good afternoon, Mrs. Cart, and sir..." Tom Riddle greeted the present to highlight his presence there.
The man in question turned to him and smiled, which strangely annoyed him. "Alvo, Alvo Dumbledore, and you, young man?"
Riddle answered the strange man without thinking much, "Tom Marvolo Riddle," and could see a strange response from the man in front of him. He mumbled something about Marvelous, Gaunts... or something like that.
"I am the director of a school for special people called Hogwarts and would like to talk to you about it. I heard things about you that interested me a lot from Mrs. Cart. Perhaps you are one of our students."
The name seemed to explode in Tom's head; he didn't know why, but that name was very familiar, and he definitely should go there. "Sir, I am willing to listen, but I don't know if I am willing to believe and trust you. For example, how am I special?"
Dumbledore widened his smile even more and, with a simple hand gesture—or what looked like the strange phallic object in Dumbledore's hand, although too small for hand support. In doing so, the Matron simply stood up from where she was and moved silently to the door, with a vacant or even lost look.
Once they were alone in the room, the old man approached Tom and touched his shoulder. His mind screamed for help; why was he left alone with this strange old man? He instinctively tried to retreat but stood firm, feeling a threat, especially when the wooden phallic object in the man's hand came close to him... 'No, this can't be happening.'
Before Tom's suspicions were confirmed or not, the old man raised his voice in a gentle and kind tone while holding the boy's shoulder firmly. His mind screamed for help, why was he left alone with this strange old man? He instinctively tried to retreat but stood firm, feeling a threat, especially when the wooden phallic object in the man's hand came close to him... 'No, this can't be happening.'
Before Tom's suspicions were confirmed or not, the old man raised his voice in a gentle and kind tone while holding the boy's shoulder firmly. "The special type I speak of is a different kind. For example, have you ever noticed that strange or even miraculous things happen around you?"
"Strange things? Like what you did to Mrs. Cart?" Tom asked, intrigued by the old man in front of him, who strangely gave him a feeling of fear but also admiration.
In response to the question, the old man used the wooden phallic object in his hand to point to one of the coffee cups, making it float, widening Tom's eyes. He could do something like that in the past, so there are more people like him, besides the boy from his rival. He had so many questions.
The old man didn't answer and conjured an envelope containing a letter, handing it to him. An envelope with a letter with four emblems adorning the old paper packaging and a wax seal with the official school emblem. He became inexplicably excited.
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Director: Armando Dippet
Dear (Moon Rabbit),
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Congratulations! Your magical journey is about to begin.
Here are the important details for your first year at Hogwarts:
...
Sincerely,
Albus Dumbledore
Deputy Headmaster of Hogwarts
...
He read the entire content; it was an invitation and also contained a strange list of school supplies. But something was strange; it wasn't his name mentioned as a student, (Moon Rabbit), that wasn't the name written, but he inevitably read it as Moon Rabbit. This made him even more outraged, but he decided to ask.
"Professor Dumbledore, there seems to be a mistake. The name of the student to whom this letter refers is not mine. Is there another letter?"
Dumbledore made a face; it can't be. This child should be the wizard in the orphanage; he had researched before knowing the location the child was a clear descendant of the Gaunts. He picked up the letter. "Moon Rabbit, and indeed, the name is different."
The old man fell silent for a while, thinking deeply, which gave Tom a shiver. Finally, hearing the sound of words he didn't want to hear, "There is no other letter addressed to this orphanage, Mr. Riddle, you are not one of our students."
"You must be mistaken, sir. Strange things happen to me, like the one you demonstrated floating the coffee..." He tried to explain, but it seemed like his words were not heard.
"No, my young man, the name was not in the book. You are not special, and you don't have a place at Hogwarts." Dumbledore stayed silent for his words to be understood and continued. "I apologize; now I will meet with the true owner of the letter."
Tom became furious, to the point of losing color. "You are wrong, and you dare not take him!"
The old man looked back at the boy throwing a tantrum and used his wand to temporarily paralyze him with a simple spell. "Goodbye, Tom Riddle."
He stood there paralyzed for some time, finally seeing a white-haired child with purple eyes passing by, accompanying the man called Dumbledore. His mind was on the verge of collapse; he didn't know what he had lost, but he felt that he couldn't recover it. His mind was fragmenting. He moved to the room and just lay on the bed, giving vent to his hatred, and his tear glands leaked tears. But he hadn't given up yet, not yet.
He would make the white-haired boy pay!