So that's it.
Tom finally understood that Voldemort never intended to keep his promise from the beginning. Even if he had truly handed Harry over to Voldemort, his fate would not have changed.
He would still be consumed by Tom Riddle, becoming the vessel for his resurrection.
A flood of memories invaded Tom's mind, along with the emotions and sensations from those memories.
Those grey emotions were like a terrifying wave; they were cruel, selfish, indifferent. He felt as though he were a heartless predator, with people merely tools, servants, or enemies in his eyes.
In the orphanage, he could hang other orphans' pets without mercy, making him feel superior, able to take away what was important to them at any time.
At school, he smartly adopted another method, wearing a kind mask, pretending to be a friend. He found this made people lower their guard and easier to manipulate.
But whether talking or playing, he never felt joy. Only magic and the power it represented could fill the void in his heart.
Tom felt suffocated, clinging tightly to the short year of memories that belonged to him. In the grey tide, those brief memories were like a shining pearl, emitting a faint light.
But now, the grey tide was overwhelming, Riddle's memories overshadowing that glimmer. His despicable life was engulfing him.
He saw Tom Riddle with a fake smile, winning everyone's favor.
He saw him asking Slughorn about Horcruxes, and finally, opening the Chamber of Secrets and summoning the Basilisk to kill Myrtle.
The memories filled him with shame.
So this is Tom Riddle.
This is me.
And I am destined to become someone like Voldemort.
This is my fate; this past year was just a false life.
But then, a voice echoed in his mind.
[Is this what you want, Tom?]
Startled, his memories took another turn. He seemed to become the diary, communicating with an unknown person...
The person spoke of unthinkable things: the future, war, a savior...
He said, "Tom, become the savior."
Curious, confused, and excited about resurrection, he took over that person's body.
Then, he saw...
Rockets piercing the sky like the Grim Reaper, nuclear bombs like death itself, a world in ruins, wizards struggling like ants and mice...
He saw fleets covering the sky, tanks over the hills, fire raining from heaven.
He saw humanity's last struggle, death, crying, despair, flowers blooming on scorched earth.
He saw a young boy struggling, crawling, losing everything, yet holding onto the last hope, opening his soul to him.
He heard the boy's name.
Lucas Blytheson.
The Child of Light.
But then he felt a personality awakening within his body.
"What nonsense."
The indifferent soul glanced at the memories, "Luckily, I left there."
He felt the other's joy and relief, followed by a burst of dark thoughts.
"The Philosopher's Stone, I'll use it to resurrect, then slowly accumulate power, learn from mistakes, not wage war on Muggles right away... maybe get those Muggle nukes, they're not so powerful in this era, nuclear war would weaken them, making them easier to control..."
"Or slowly infiltrate, rule wizards first, then Muggles..."
"Is this your plan?" he suddenly spoke.
The personality saw him, "What are you?"
In the world of the soul, Tom Riddle was like a towering black mountain, while he was a weak seed.
Riddle quickly understood, "I lost my memory and attended school for a year? Stole the Philosopher's Stone? Clever, but why don't I remember? No matter, you're useless now."
Riddle opened his mouth wide, swallowing Tom.
[Is this what you want, Tom?]
[Are you going to leave your world to such a person?]
[You've experienced love]
[You've seen light]
[You've tasted despair, so you understand the greatness of hope]
[Now, will you still close your eyes?]
Murphy's words seemed to echo again, "The conviction that comes after making a choice is the foundation of being human."
Now, it seemed, was the moment of choice.
To close his eyes and let fate defeat him, stepping onto the path of becoming a dark lord.
Or to struggle once more, embracing another destiny?
A boy's sad and sincere face appeared before him.
Lucas.
So that's your name.
You... believe in me...
You need me...
Suddenly, he felt a heavy weight on his shoulders.
But it didn't make him feel heavy or tired; instead, it invigorated him.
He remembered the prophecy.
He had heard it from Professor Trelawney and now again in Lucas's memories.
He was the child born from death, his darkness stemmed from the past years, the 'Seer' would grant him endless wisdom, leaving the key to him in the Chamber of Secrets... He would solve the puzzle, see the future... He would resurrect after death, walking towards the fate of a savior.
"Savior... So, this is my destiny."
The tiny pearl suddenly burst into a sun-like radiance, piercing the endless grey memories, tearing, dissolving, devouring them.
A new personality was reborn.
...
Hogwarts, Murphy sighed in relief.
The seed was planted a year ago; now he finally saw it bloom and bear fruit.
The rest is up to you, Tom.
Let this long game of chess come to an end.
...
In the graveyard, Quirrell watched the struggling boy. His immense magical power, unshackled, rose into a whirlwind, fluttering his clothes.
Is this the master's magic as a youth?
So vast and impressive...
He even worried, if Tom resurrected, would the master no longer need him?
Finally, the magic calmed down, and Tom, as if exhausted, knelt on the ground, the diary falling before him.
Now the dark magic in the diary was almost gone, and everything in it seemed to have transferred to the young man.
"Tom," Voldemort's voice called.
The young man slowly stood up, his head tilted back, eyes closed but eyes moving rapidly.
Then, he lowered his head, opened his eyes, and bowed to Voldemort, "Lord Voldemort. I'm awake."
Voldemort was surprised, thinking he'd have to spend effort subduing his young self, but the boy was surprisingly compliant, making him happy, "Rise, Tom. You are me, you will become my most trusted partner."
"You brought me the Philosopher's Stone and Harry Potter, and together we will resurrect."
"Thank you, great Voldemort," Tom said, "My contribution is negligible, all thanks to your far-sighted planning in the past."
"Although you have the Stone, how will you brew the Elixir of Life and the resurrection potion? Do you have the formulas?"
"Actually, I also got the formula for the Elixir of Life from Snape, but I'm not familiar with the resurrection potion..."
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