A strange silence lingered for a long time.
Probably even Voldemort had never encountered such a situation.
After a while, Voldemort finally spoke, "You are not Tom Riddle."
The memory he left in the diary was of himself at sixteen, but the boy in front of him looked no more than eleven or twelve, and... he didn't resemble him at all.
However, what about the diary? He gestured, and the diary flew from Tom's hand into his own.
With a single touch, he knew it was indeed his diary.
Moreover, it seemed that the soul fragment within the diary had indeed transferred.
"Use Legilimency!"
The figure raised his wand towards Tom.
Startled, Tom then heard the voice from the hood again, "On the diary! Fool!"
The figure redirected the wand at the diary, and as he uttered the spell, his voice seemed much younger, "Legilimens!"
"Strange..." the hoarse voice pondered, seemingly confused, "The soul in the diary is gone, but something else is blocking me..."
He opened the diary and saw the task about the Philosopher's Stone.
"It told you to seize the Philosopher's Stone?"
Voldemort was shocked.
I made you to open the Chamber of Secrets, and you're competing with me for the Philosopher's Stone? The figure then turned to Tom.
And this guy, is he a puppet controlled by the diary? He muttered a few spells in a hoarse voice.
Suddenly, he stopped and said with surprise and disdain, "You're a dead person, boy."
The diary had said the same, but Tom had always held onto some hope, "But, I can move, I can eat, I can talk..."
"Superficial! You know nothing of death, boy!" the hoarse voice scorned, "You're but a walking corpse, someone has sewn a piece of my soul into this dead body with a clever spell."
"But death is death. Your body won't grow or have normal sensations. Everything you feel is just an illusion brought to your soul by spells."
In terms of death, Voldemort would dare to claim second place, and no other wizard would dare to claim first.
Moreover, most of the spells Murphy used to maintain Tom's body were stolen from the diary, naturally, they couldn't fool Voldemort.
"Strange, you didn't take the memories..." the hoarse voice continued, "You only took a piece of the soul, but my memories are still in the diary, and it seems to still control you... strange..."
"This diary claims to be Voldemort," Tom asked his biggest doubt, "Are you the same person? What is going on?"
Voldemort hesitated, pondering whether to tell Tom these details, but eventually decided to share his proud past.
"This diary is a magical object I created at sixteen. It possesses all my memories and abilities from that age. Later, I bestowed a piece of my own soul onto it, making it... well, what it is now."
"It claims to be Voldemort, and that's correct, because it is my past. It is Tom Riddle, and also the future Voldemort."
"It can devour others' souls and magic to resurrect, becoming a new version of me at sixteen."
"As for you..." Voldemort hesitated, "You are a defective product, perhaps a result of a failed resurrection attempt?"
Defective product...
Tom's heart sank again.
"Can you help me regain my memories? Free me from the diary's control?" Tom asked.
"Why would I do that?" Voldemort scorned.
He was somewhat unclear about Tom's situation, there were some magics he didn't understand, but the diary had been with the Malfoy family for fifty years. The Tom Riddle in the diary might have had experiences and encounters unknown to him, so it was possible that this situation was Riddle's doing.
Tom thought for a moment, "I can help you get the Philosopher's Stone."
Voldemort fell silent again, seemingly not expecting Tom to know so much, but he still refused, "I can do it myself. I don't need you."
"However," the hoarse voice paused, "you can do something else for me."
"If you can do it, I might consider lifting the diary's restrictions on you, and even... remaking your body, allowing you to resurrect in the form of the living."
Tom frowned, "What do you want me to do?"
"You've become friends with that Potter boy, right?" Voldemort said, "Bring him to me."
"An infant with no power defeated me. For many years, I couldn't understand where it went wrong," Voldemort said, "I must solve this issue. Bring him to me, and I'll give you what you want."
Harry?
Tom hesitated for a moment, "What do you want to do with Harry?"
"That's none of your concern, boy! If you want to live, bring him to me!"
Tom hesitated.
Voldemort had killed Harry's parents and almost died because of Harry, losing everything. He must harbor deep hatred for Harry...
If he abducted Harry...
One could imagine, the endless torture and excruciating death that awaited Harry.
But... do I really care about Harry's life and death?
After all, what exactly is a friend?
Is he really my friend?
Even if he is, is his life more important than my own?
And, Harry seems to have seen the diary. Might he start suspecting me?
Even if I get the Philosopher's Stone, Harry might tell others of his suspicions. Then, I would be sent to Azkaban... or, like this ridiculous body, face true death.
"..."
Ha, who do you think you are, Tom?
You're just a walking corpse, a puppet, an illusion, a clone without even memories...
And your real self is Tom Riddle... Voldemort...
You were originally a tool of the dark wizard who killed Harry's parents.
Do you really want to be a good person?
Ha, ridiculous.
"Ha ha..."
Tom suddenly laughed, a dry laugh almost bringing tears. How ridiculous, why would I have such ludicrous thoughts?
To break free from this pathetic fate and truly live, isn't that good enough?
That's already an extravagant wish that might not be attainable even with all efforts. What right or power do you have to consider others' lives and deaths?
Tom clenched his fists, "Fine. But first, you need to restrain the diary, so it can't control me anymore. And during the resurrection, I want it to be based on me as I am now. I don't want to become a vessel for Tom Riddle."
"Agreed." Voldemort said, taking the diary and casting several spells on it.
Suddenly, Tom felt a relief in his heart, as if the strings tied to his limbs were cut. His soul felt unprecedentedly light and active.
"This diary can't do anything to you anymore," Voldemort said.
The diary was Voldemort's Horcrux; he naturally had ways to restrain it. In fact, even without Tom's request, he would have done so. The diary had become somewhat strange, already deviating from his original intention.
And to think it even wanted to compete with him for the Philosopher's Stone?
Utterly audacious.
"Can I have the diary back?" Tom asked.
Since Voldemort could restrain the diary, he could also lift the restraint
. Leaving the diary in his hands was like putting his life in Voldemort's hands. Tom didn't want to be anyone's puppet anymore.
"Hmph!" The figure snorted and tossed the diary over.
As Tom caught the diary, hoofbeats approached from behind.
"Damn centaur..." Voldemort seemed annoyed.
Currently residing in Quirrell, he couldn't use his own power. The centaurs posed a threat to Quirrell. Engaging with them might expose Quirrell's identity, so he had to retreat.
As he was about to flee, Tom called out, "Wait! Cast a spell on me!"
"What?"
"Injure me!" Tom said, "I can't return unscathed. They'll suspect me!"
Voldemort paused for a moment.
Was I this ruthless to myself at that age?
"Alright," he said.
His wand pointed at Tom, and the young voice said, "Bone Break!"
---
Tom's decision reflects the complex inner struggle and the harsh choices he faces. His alignment with Voldemort's demands is a survival tactic, revealing his pragmatic, if morally ambiguous, nature.
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