PTSD

"Drip it onto the paper? Can you take potions too?" Ginny looked at the diary, intrigued. She'd thought Tom was like those magical portraits, just a portion of the previous owner's memories.

"I can't take them, of course, but I can identify a potion's ingredients through touch." Voldemort conjured a neat line of writing, coaxing her along. "If I can't experience it for myself, I won't believe the potion is that powerful."

"Fine, I'll prove it to you today!" Ginny grinned and muttered smugly. Then she picked up the bottle of constitution potion and dripped two drops onto the page.

As soon as the two drops of potion touched the paper, they soaked in like ink.

At the same time, Voldemort's consciousness inside the diary jolted.

What was this?

The taste of life energy!

A master of bloodline magic and the Dark Arts, Voldemort immediately identified the ingredients of this so-called attribute potion. It was actually made of life energy!

The concentration wasn't high, but it was remarkably pure.

How was that possible? Did Anduin have a Philosopher's Stone? Or had he already mastered the technique for extracting pure life energy?

Voldemort was stunned to sense life energy. Even he, in his heyday, had been unable to refine it to such purity.

And it wasn't just refining it; this was the first time he'd ever tasted life energy like this.

At the same time, Voldemort felt the power of this life energy for the first time. His soul had been terribly weakened by his earlier suicide, yet these two drops of potion had already made it much stronger.

It was easy to imagine that if he could get more life potions like this, he'd recover his strength much faster. Then he wouldn't have to remain at the mercy of a