Chapter 132: Entering the Diary
Late at night, in the Slytherin girls' dormitory.
The other girls were already fast asleep. Only the rhythmic snoring of Millicent Bulstrode and her cat echoed in the darkness.
Tamara sat on her bed. After drinking a Basic Mana Potion, she had already cast the strictest Muffliato and Protego Totalum around herself.
It was the potion she had received in exchange for saving Potter, capable of restoring her magic to its full level for ten minutes.
Although it was precious, and one of her life saving trump cards, compared to reclaiming her own Horcrux, such a small loss was not worth mentioning.
By the pale moonlight filtering through the window, she stared expressionlessly at the black diary resting on her knees.
At this moment, the little booklet that had once so thoroughly infatuated Ginny Weasley was trembling slightly on her lap, like a small animal sensing its approaching end.
It tried to resist.
It tried to escape.
But beneath Tamara's cold palm, it did not even have the strength to turn its own pages.
"Stop playing dead."
Tamara's voice was very soft, yet it carried a bone chilling coldness.
"You know who I am now. This meaningless resistance serves no purpose except to infuriate me."
The diary stopped moving.
After a few seconds, the cover slowly flipped open on its own, revealing the first page of yellowed paper.
Ink quickly seeped across the surface.
[Do you really want to do this?]
As if realizing that force would not work, the ink immediately changed form.
The originally sharp strokes became soft, even carrying a dizzying sense of allure, flowing slowly across the yellowed page like a demon's whisper.
[Why are you in such a hurry to destroy me? My original self.]
[I can feel it... a ridiculous shackle has been placed upon your soul.]
[It restricts your power, prevents you from using the Unforgivable Curses on those ants, and forces you to masquerade as a docile sheep.]
[How pathetic, that the great Dark Lord has fallen to such a state.]
The ink paused for a moment. Then, like an extended olive branch, it surged out even more urgently.
[But I am different.]
[I don't have that shackle.]
[Keep me. I can become your shadow, the venomous fang hidden in your sleeve.]
[Those you want to kill but cannot, I will do it for you. Those Dark Arts you long to use but are forbidden, I will cast them for you.]
[We were originally one. Imagine, two Lord Voldemorts joining forces... we would be invincible.]
[If you would only give me a tiny bit of life force... just a little bit.]
Tamara looked at those lines of seductive text, and a cold sneer curled at the corner of her mouth.
"...Impressive."
She commented softly, her eyes filled with nothing but mockery.
"If I were still that sixteen year old idiot, I might actually be moved by you."
"But unfortunately, I know myself far too well."
Tamara's fingers lightly tapped the cover.
"So called shadows always end up trying to devour their masters and take their place."
"Do you think I don't know what you're planning? Once you've absorbed enough life force, the first thing you will do is seize control of this body."
"Save it."
"I trust no one but myself, especially not my past self."
Tamara slowly raised her wand, pressing the tip against the centre of the page.
"Legilimens."
As the spell was cast, Tamara felt the world spin before her eyes.
That familiar sensation of falling struck her.
The dormitory vanished.
The moonlight vanished.
In its place was a world of only black and white.
...
Consciousness space.
Tamara landed steadily in a black and white corridor.
This was Hogwarts fifty years ago.
Light and shadow interlaced, silent and still.
At the end of the corridor, a black haired boy in a Slytherin uniform, with a prefect badge pinned to his chest, was leaning against the wall and staring at her coldly.
Sixteen year old Tom Riddle.
Handsome. Pale. His gaze held an arrogance and gloom that had not yet been tempered by time.
"Look at you."
Tom was the first to speak.
He straightened and looked Tamara up and down with undisguised loathing.
"This is what you look like now? A harmless, even... ridiculous shell?"
Tom scoffed, his voice echoing through the empty corridor.
"That Weasley girl described you in the diary as so noble and perfect, but all I see is a coward who has abandoned all dignity just to survive."
He took a step forward, the mockery on his face growing sharper.
"And... I saw everything."
"In the bathroom, the way you acted toward that boy named Harry Potter. It was nauseating."
At the mention of Harry's name, Tom's eyes instantly turned cold.
"That silly little girl wrote hundreds of pages about him in the diary. The Boy Who Lived. The savior who defeated the Dark Lord."
"I originally thought it was just a ridiculous joke."
"Until I saw you, the great Dark Lord himself, actually bowing your head to that brat who has not even grown his feathers yet. Begging him. Even using that sort of low level contact on him."
Tom's expression twisted, as if this were the greatest insult imaginable.
"You are an absolute disgrace to Slytherin! To stay alive, you have actually stooped to flattering the enemy we were destined to crush beneath our feet!"
Facing this barrage of humiliation, Tamara's expression remained exceptionally calm.
"Are you finished?"
Tamara asked flatly.
She reached out and smoothed her slightly messy long hair, her tone indifferent.
"Times have changed, you idiot."
"Your so called dignity is worthless in the face of survival."
Tamara took a step forward, her heels clicking against the stone floor.
"You stand here mocking me for being weak and hypocritical."
"But the reality is that I am alive. I am standing in Hogwarts Castle, toying with the savior's favor, and leaving Dumbledore powerless against me."
"And what about you?"
Tamara stopped in front of Tom, her gaze becoming incredibly pitying.
"You are still immersed in the dream of the perfect crime you wove for yourself."
"You think opening the Chamber of Secrets, purging a few Mudbloods, and framing someone else was some sort of brilliant, genius plan?"
Tamara chuckled and shook her head helplessly.
"You think you did everything flawlessly. You think you held the entire school, staff and students alike, in the palm of your hand."
"But to me, it was nothing more than a childish farce full of loopholes."
Tamara moved closer, her dark eyes fixed on the boy before her.
"Aside from drawing Dumbledore's more vigilant gaze and nearly getting this school closed, thus cutting off your own retreat, what else did you gain?"
"A memory of blind arrogance that can only hide in dark corners, barely surviving by draining the life force of a little girl."
"Other than being devoured by me, you have no value whatsoever."
These words clearly struck Tom's sore spot.
"Shut up!"
Tom roared.
The surrounding space shook instantly.
Black ink seeped from the walls on all sides, transforming into countless ferocious venomous snakes that lunged toward Tamara with their mouths wide open.
"I am Lord Voldemort! I am the greatest Wizard of the past, present, and future! You have no right to devour me!"
.....
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