Tom Riddle

Harry instinctively sensed that something was wrong.

According to Riddle, he absorbed the life force of six people to become a physical form, but his soul was attached to the diary and needed a sacrifice to break this bondage.

I am Riddle's sacrifice!

If the diary is destroyed, the other person should naturally die as well.

but...

Riddle was too calm.

Harry began to hesitate. Was the other person truly fearless, or just putting on an act?

At that moment, Riddle suddenly said coldly, "Potter, do you know why I'm targeting you and bringing you here?"

"Why?" Now was not the time to ponder this question, yet Harry desperately wanted to know the answer.

He really wanted to know why Riddle, a student from fifty years ago, kept focusing on him.

And why was he chosen as the sacrifice?

He was just an ordinary second-year wizard.

"Because of Voldemort," Riddle whispered, "He is my past, present, and future..."

Riddle waved his wand, making a few strokes in the air to write three Winky names:

Tom Marvolo Riddle!

Then he waved his wand, and the letters automatically switched positions, becoming:

I am Voldemort!

Harry's mind seemed to freeze.

He stared blankly at Riddle. This was the man who had once been an orphan, but who, as an adult, had killed Harry's parents, and so many others...

"Harry," Riddle said, "We've met twice, in your past and in my future, and both times I failed to kill you."

What could be more ritualistic than offering yourself as a sacrifice?

Harry gripped Sword of Gryffindor tightly.

"But the diary is in my hands!"

"Then stab me. If you stab me, I'll die. You wouldn't dare, would you?" Riddle sneered.

"Or, you're unwilling to murder Riddle's soul, after all, strictly speaking, Voldemort is only my future?"

Harry slowly raised his eyes to meet Riddle's smiling face.

Do you think I'd hesitate? You murdered my parents and hurt my friends!

No, if anything could bring me joy, it would be killing you with my own hands!

Harry's voice was filled with hatred as he raised Sword of Gryffindor and thrust it downwards.

With a terrible, prolonged, ear-piercing scream, streams of ink gushed from the diary, flowing down Harry's hands and onto the floor.

Riddle's body twisted and began to blur, and before he completely disappeared, he smiled with narrowed eyes.

With a thud, Harry's wand fell to the ground, and everything fell silent except for the sound of ink still dripping from the diary.

Harry reached for his wand, but was suddenly horrified to find that he couldn't move and that a lot of smoke was billowing out of his body.

"Harry, thank you, thank you for completely freeing me from the diary."

A blurry figure formed in the white smoke; Riddle was still laughing.

Harry stared blankly at Riddle.

He personally resurrected... Voldemort?

William slowly walked into the Chamber of Secrets.

It was a long, dimly lit room with many stone pillars carved with coiled serpents, towering high and supporting the dark ceiling.

The Chamber of Secrets was empty.

William slowly ventured deeper, and when he reached the last pair of stone pillars, a statue several tens of meters tall suddenly appeared before him.

William looked up and saw that enormous face.

An old, monkey-like face, with a sparse, long beard that almost reached the hem of a wizard's robe carved from stone, and two Padfoot standing on the smooth floor of the room.

--Slytherin Statue.

Strangely, its mouth was completely open, clearly an entrance.

William hesitated for a moment, then transformed into a sea eagle and flew inside.

After he landed, he found that it was a long corridor, and at the end of the road was another room.

William gripped his wand in his right hand and entered the room through the passageway.

Harry and Ron were lying on the ground, with Fawkes standing guard beside them.

A hissing sound came from the corner, Slytherin immediately closed his mouth, the door to the room also closing.

"You've finally arrived, Stark." A young man of sixteen or seventeen leaned back in his chair.

I've been waiting for you for a long time.

William squinted at the young man.

"You're Riddle's Diary? No, even if a diary can communicate, it can't become a wizard... Who are you, really?"

"Who am I?" Riddle, crossing his arms over his wand.

"Let me put it this way, I am a piece of Voldemort's soul that he tore apart back then... He banished me forever to his diary."

"Voldemort's soul?"

"Yes, but that was just a few minutes ago. I was resurrected, given a new body to house my broken soul..."

William raised an eyebrow; he suddenly realized that things weren't as simple as he had thought.

He initially thought the diary was simply the result of Voldemort's Dark Magic, but he never imagined it was inhabited by a soul!

--He really is Yao Lao!

"Want to hear how I was resurrected?"

Riddle fiddled with his wand in both hands and said softly, "I went to so much trouble to build this stage, but if there's no audience to appreciate it, I'll find it boring and lacking in ritual."

You are my only audience.

"Of course, I can't wait." William tapped his wand, conjuring a chair.

"My resurrection requires two steps: first, absorbing a large amount of life force to nourish my soul; then, using a special method, breaking the shackles of the diary and releasing my soul from within."

What special method?

"Of course, you certainly don't know the method," Riddle chuckled. "Dumbledore likes you so much, he won't let you have access to these things."

"But after years of research... there's only one way to release the soul from the body—sacrifice!"

"Who did you sacrifice?" William asked. "Harry?!"

"Of course not," Riddle said smugly. "William, this is the most exciting part. I think... there's also a touch of artistry and tragedy in it."

Riddle fixed his hair.

"In theory, I could sacrifice anyone's life to kill Harry Potter and free myself from the diary."

But only by sacrificing what I cherish most can I gain greater power.

William's eyes flickered; it sounded a bit like the way to obtain the Soul Stone: sacrificing one's loved ones.

"Potter is of no value to me. I neither like him nor hate him."

Yes, Harry Potter defeated Voldemort, but what does that have to do with me Tom Riddle?

Potter is not worthy to be my sacrifice!

"So who is your true love?"

"My favorite?" Riddle grinned sinisterly.

"Of course it was myself! I only love myself, so I sacrificed my soul to make Potter destroy the diary."

"If the diary was destroyed, why didn't you die?" William asked, puzzled.

"This brings us to another interesting magic," Riddle whispered.

"Although I don't consider myself to have anything to do with Voldemort, he is, after all, my future."

Potter naturally transferred this hatred onto me... This man who hated me so much, tonight, because of some of my little tricks, "voluntarily" forged an ancient protective spell with me.

"Protective magic."

"Yes... the magic requires two people who hate each other, one of whom is willing to break free of their shackles and bear all the harm for the other."

The conditions for achieving this magic are very demanding. After all, two people who are enemies and wish the other dead are unlikely to voluntarily protect each other.

But I was lucky enough to persuade Potter to form a magical bond with me through certain means... He took the cost of my soul being destroyed in my place."

Riddle stood up. "So the diary was destroyed, but I didn't die!"

"So Harry is dead?" William asked, stunned.

"No, I'm also surprised by that." Riddle frowned slightly.

"Isn't it strange? It's like how he, when he was just a baby, didn't die at my hands in the future."

"But that's not important anymore." Riddle shook his head. "I've told you so much; in exchange, shouldn't you tell me something about yourself?"

"What's up?"

"Where is Ravenclaw's Bronze Ring?!"

Riddle's voice echoed and lingered in the stone chamber for a long time.

Then, only deathly silence remained.