Night had fallen over Hogwarts.
In Tom's office on the fourth floor of the castle, Tom sat at his desk, his Horcrux diary lying before him.
Nagini entered, bearing a freshly brewed cup of coffee, which Tom gestured for her to place on the desk.
Then, he turned his attention back to the diary.
Opening it, Nagini was taken aback. "This is… a blank diary?"
Hearing this, Tom smiled enigmatically, then picked up a quill and wrote in the diary: "I found this diary in the dormitory. I don't know who it belongs to, but it's blank, so I'll keep it."
Moments after he finished writing, the words vanished.
Then, another sentence appeared in the diary: "Greetings. The original owner of this diary was a genius. I am an alchemical creation he personally crafted. Write your questions within, and I can assist you… Perhaps we should become acquainted first. What is your name?"
Seeing Nagini's gaping mouth beside him, Tom allowed himself a slight smile.
He wrote again in the diary.
"My name is Tom Marvolo Riddle."
The remnant of Voldemort's soul within the diary was visibly stunned, unable to formulate a response for a long moment.
After a while, words materialized: "What a coincidence. I share the same name, but surely we are different. I prefer to be addressed by my nickname."
"Oh? Really? Speaking of which, I also have a nickname."
Tom wrote this with a mischievous glint in his eye.
Nagini, standing nearby, pursed her lips, struggling not to laugh.
But the remnant of Voldemort's soul in the diary remained oblivious.
He was merely curious about Tom's nickname.
"If you would be so kind, could you share your nickname with me?"
Tom, seeing the words appear in the diary, happily wrote the three words "Voldemort" within.
"…"
"Are you Tom Riddle?"
"Are you Voldemort?"
"Then who am I?"
Looking at the trio of questions that had appeared on the diary page, Tom smiled slightly and wrote in the diary, "You're a bald man with no nose."
"…"
"I am a…"
Witnessing the stream of colorful language erupting on the diary page, Tom closed the book without hesitation.
Only when the remnant soul of Voldemort had exhausted its profanity and used up most of its ink did it finally cease.
Based on Tom's previous message, the remnant soul in the diary could now confirm that the individual outside was someone familiar with his identity and the Horcruxes.
As for that person being Voldemort himself, that was beyond the realm of possibility!
He swore on his most prized possession: his looks and his intelligence!
If the person outside turned out to be himself, he would devour him! He would consume a pound of him! The more he resembled him, the more he would devour!
But… if it wasn't himself, then who could it be?
How vulgar his words are… Wait, who dares address me in such a manner? Could it be…?
Tom's mind conjured up an image of an old man even more repulsive than himself.
"Dumbledore! You doddering old fool! It's you, isn't it!"
Seeing this sentence, Tom frowned slightly. Who is calling whom a 'doddering old fool'?!
And so, an unhappy Tom wrote another sentence in the diary: "Actually, I stole the Basilisk as well."
"...You son of a bitch!!!"
"(A long string of impolite language omitted)"
Tom continued to ignore the raving, remnant spirit and simply closed the diary.
He was the one cursing, and Dumbledore was the one being cursed. This feeling is rather enjoyable.
Tom leaned back in his chair as Nagini came up behind him and began to massage his shoulders.
Although he had repeatedly expressed that he didn't require such ministrations, it was merely his little snake's way of showing her affection, and he couldn't possibly disappoint her, could he?
Tom relaxed in comfortable silence.
Speaking of which, now that Nagini has reverted to her human form, what will become of my little snake? How can the great Dark Lord exist without his little snake?
Tom's first thought was Uroboros; after all, Uroboros was large enough to occasionally serve as a mount.
However, Uroboros was a basilisk; anyone other than himself who gazed upon its eyes would likely meet their end, or at the very least, be petrified.
Tom wasn't concerned about harming others, but rather that it would detract from his image. He couldn't very well put on a show for statues and corpses, could he?
"Tsk, this is proving to be somewhat problematic. I shall consult with Mr. Scamander next time."
Since he couldn't arrive at a solution, he decided to postpone the matter for the time being.
He wasn't an expert on magical creatures; it was best to seek the counsel of someone more knowledgeable.
Now…
Tom flipped open his left hand, revealing a small purple bottle.
Simultaneously, Slytherin's complaining voice echoed in his mind, "Could you refrain from hurling everything at me? I am being crushed!"
You, a ghost, cannot be crushed, can you?
Tom rolled his eyes wordlessly, then disregarded Salazar Slytherin.
Pop.
Tom uncorked the small bottle and extracted the remnant soul of Voldemort.
"I am a snake~ I am a snake~"
Voldemort's remnant soul resembled a noseless electrical outlet, writhing in the air, a rather grotesque sight.
That was right, the curse of the Blood-Bind Curse had been inflicted upon Voldemort's remnant soul.
"Hmm… not bad. I shall release you once you are incapable of uttering human words."
"You motherf-"
Clearly, even as a "snake," Voldemort's remnant soul had not forgotten to curse Tom.
Nagini, observing the scene, remained silent. She possessed considerable knowledge about Tom, including his relationship with Voldemort and the nuances between them.
Had anyone else subjected another to such a vile curse, Nagini would have been utterly repulsed.
But Tom was different; he undoubtedly had his reasons.
And as long as Nagini imagined the cursed individual to be Gellert Grindelwald, she found it difficult to care.
Tom picked up the diary from the table with his right hand.
Suddenly, a crimson flame erupted from his hand, engulfing the diary.
"What is happening… no… you cannot… no!!!"
These words continued to appear on the diary, and Tom could faintly discern the screams of Voldemort's remnant soul.
But he paid it no mind; he simply watched.
Just as Voldemort's remnant soul was on the verge of destruction, Tom managed to extract it.
"This… how is this possible…"
The weakened remnant soul stared at Tom, its face filled with disbelief.
"I am aware that you have much to say, but I have no inclination to listen."
With that, Tom forcibly crammed the remnant soul back into the small bottle.
Playing with the bottle in his hand, Tom was suddenly struck by an inspiration: to gather all of Voldemort's remnant souls and then forge them into a powerful magical artifact.
That… would be rather interesting…
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