Hogwarts: From Selling White Peppers to Becoming a God

Chapter 267 You still want to be a good person?

An eerie silence lasted for a long time.

I doubt even Voldemort had ever encountered such a situation.

After a long silence, Voldemort finally spoke, "You are not Tom Riddle."

The memories he left in his diary were probably from when he was 16, while the guy in front of him looked to be at most eleven or twelve, and... he didn't look like him at all.

But what's the story behind that diary?

He reached out and beckoned, and the diary flew automatically from Tom's hand into his.

The moment he touched it, he knew that this was indeed his diary.

Moreover, the fragments of the soul in the diary do seem to have indeed been transferred.

"Use mind control to grasp at it!"

The figure raised its wand and aimed it at Tom.

The latter was startled, but then heard the voice again from inside the hood, "It's the diary! You idiot!"

The figure pointed the wand at the notebook again, and as he chanted the spell, his voice seemed much younger, "Leech!"

"Strange..." the hoarse voice murmured, seemingly puzzled, "The soul in the diary is gone, but something else is blocking my way..."

The figure opened the diary and saw the quest about the Philosopher's Stone.

"It's sending you to steal the Philosopher's Stone?"

Voldemort was shocked.

I created you so you could open the secret room, but you're trying to steal the magic stone from me?

The figure then looked at Tom.

And this guy is the puppet controlled by the diary?

He muttered a few incantations in a hoarse voice.

Suddenly, he stopped, and said with a mixture of surprise and disdain, "You're a dead man, boy."

The notes had said the same thing to him, but Tom still clung to a sliver of hope: "But I can still move, I can eat, I can talk..."

"Superficial! You know nothing about death, boy!" the hoarse voice sneered. "You are nothing but a walking corpse, someone has used a skillful spell to sew a piece of my soul into this dead body."

"But death is death. Your body just hasn't decayed. It neither grows nor has normal feelings. Everything you experience is just an illusion that some spell brings to your soul."

When it comes to the topic of death, Voldemort is second to none, and no other wizard dares to claim first place.

Moreover, most of the spells Murphy used to maintain Tom's body were stolen from the notebook, so of course they couldn't hide them from Voldemort.

"Strange, you didn't take any memories with you..." the hoarse voice continued, "You only took a piece of your soul, but my memories remain in the diary, and the diary seems to still be controlling you... Strange..."

"This notebook claims to be Voldemort's as well," Tom asked, voicing his biggest question. "Are you the same person? What's going on?"

Voldemort hesitated for a moment, seemingly considering whether to tell Tom this information, but ultimately decided to reveal his proud past.

"This diary is a magical item I made when I was sixteen. It contains all my memories and abilities from when I was sixteen. Later, I gave it a piece of my own soul, making it... well, it became what it is now."

"It calls itself Voldemort, and yes, because it is my past, it is Tom Riddle, and it is the future Voldemort."

"It can devour the souls and magic of others to revive itself and become a completely new version of myself at sixteen."

"As for you..." Voldemort hesitated, "you're a defective product, perhaps a remnant of a failed resurrection attempt?"

Defective products...

Tom's heart sank again.

"Can you help me get my memories back? Help me break free from the control of the diary?" Tom asked.

"Why would I do that?" Voldemort scoffed.

He really couldn't figure out what was going on with Tom. There was some magic involved that he didn't understand, but the diary had been in the Malfoy family for fifty years. Tom Riddle in the diary might have had his own experiences and encounters that he didn't know about, so it wasn't impossible that the current situation was caused by Riddle.

Tom thought for a moment and said, "I can help you get the Philosopher's Stone."

Voldemort remained silent for a moment, seemingly surprised that Tom knew 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 that, I might consider lifting the restrictions on your diary, and even... reshaping your body so that you can be resurrected as a living being."

Tom frowned. "What do you want me to do?"

"You've become friends with that Potter boy, haven't you?" Voldemort said. "Bring him to me."

"A powerless infant defeated me. For so many years, I have never understood what went wrong," Voldemort said. "I must solve this problem. Bring him to me, and I will give you what you want."

Harry?

Tom paused, then asked, "What do you want to do to Harry?"

"This is none of your concern! Boy! If you want to live, bring him to me!"

Tom hesitated.

Voldemort killed Harry's parents and nearly died and lost everything because of Harry. He must hate Harry to the core...

If he kidnaps Harry...

One can imagine that endless torment and an excruciatingly painful death awaited Harry.

But... do I really care whether Harry lives or dies?

Ultimately, what exactly is a friend?

Is he really my friend?

Even if he's a friend, is his life more important than my own?

Moreover, it seems Harry saw the notebook. Could he be starting to doubt himself?

Even if I get the Philosopher's Stone, Harry might tell others about his suspicions, and then I'll definitely be sent to Azkaban... or, like this ridiculous body, face real death.

"..."

Ha, who do you think you are, Tom?

You are nothing but a walking corpse, a puppet, a phantom, a copy without even memories...

And your true form is Tom Riddle... Voldemort...

You were originally a tool of the dark wizard who killed Harry's parents.

Do you really still want to be a good person?

Ha, ridiculous.

"Ha ha……"

Tom suddenly burst out laughing, a dry laugh, almost laughing until tears streamed down his face. It was so ridiculous, how could I have such a ridiculous thought?

Wouldn't it be better to break free from this ridiculous and pathetic fate and truly live?

That's already a luxury that you might not be able to achieve even if you try your best. What right or power do you have to consider the life and death of others?

Tom clenched his fist. "Fine. But you need to restrain the diary first, so it can't control me anymore. And when I'm resurrected, it has to be me now. I don't want to be Tom Riddle's vessel."

"Okay," Voldemort said, picking up the diary, pointing his wand at it, and chanting a few more spells.

Suddenly, Tom felt a sense of relief, as if the threads binding his limbs had been severed, and his soul felt lighter and more active than ever before.

"This diary can no longer do anything to you," Voldemort said.

The diary is Voldemort's Horcrux, so he naturally has ways to restrict it. In fact, he would have done so even if Tom hadn't asked. The diary has become somewhat strange, deviating from his original intention when he created it.

And they even tried to steal the magic stone from me?

That's incredibly rebellious.

"Can I have my diary back?" Tom asked.

Since Voldemort could restrict the diary, he could also remove the restriction. Leaving the diary in his hands was tantamount to handing over one's life to him. Tom didn't want to be anyone's puppet again.

"Hmph!" The figure snorted and threw the diary over.

Tom had just taken the diary when he heard the sound of horses' hooves behind him.

"Damn centaurs..." Voldemort seemed a little angry.

He is currently possessing Quirrell's body and cannot use his own powers. These centaurs are a threat to Quirrell, and continuing to fight them could expose Quirrell's identity. He has no choice but to retreat.

Just as he was about to run away, Tom called out to him, "Wait! Spell it on me!"

"What?"

"You've hurt me!" Tom said. "I can't go back unscathed; they'll suspect me!"

Voldemort paused for a moment.

Was I really that harsh on myself back then?

"Okay," he said.

The figure pointed its wand at Tom, and the young voice said, "Bonebreak!"

(End of this chapter)