Ha! Trust? Professor Dumbledore had never trusted him! Violent magic surged from his frail body, screaming madly as it sought to tear apart everything before him.
Tom closed his eyes, using all his strength to suppress his rage, repeatedly telling himself that he had long grown accustomed to such misunderstandings.
No one can help you... They will never understand you... Greatness breeds jealousy, and jealousy breeds resentment; then lies will flourish... You cannot stop any of it... Give up. Accept me. Face the truest version of yourself...
When he opened his eyes and ignored everything before him, Tom frowned in disgust. The stench in the air made him retch. He wanted to argue, only to find that he had no grounds to do so. Indeed, no one trusted him, just as he had no one he trusted.
Suspicion, wariness, fear, betrayal—those were the only things he possessed.
What... exactly are you?
The young man froze in surprise. Then, as though he had finally realized what he had heard, he bent over and burst into laughter. Hahaha, you actually asked what I am? The moment he spoke, he dissolved into black mist, which immediately began whirling rapidly around Tom.
I am the greatest ambition buried deep within your heart. I am the demon awakening in your soul. I am you. I am Tom Riddle...
Tom clenched his fists tightly. The voice in his ears was filled with temptation. Cold Parseltongue came from all directions, every word repeating and layering over itself, yet remaining incomparably clear. Tom thought of the life he had lived these past years, of those terrible experiences he had wanted to forget, and fell to his knees, clutching his aching heart.
Throwing back his head, Tom let out a roar, venting the anger and grievance he had accumulated