[HP] Being a problem student at Hogwarts

The diary began to think seriously.

"You're right," it admitted. "It's worse to eat corpses than to work." It began to mutter again, and its attitude was much better than it was towards Tom - which can refer to our dear protagonist. , can also refer to the famous bald demon king who let go a lot when he was young, probably because he thought that there was only one of his kind in front of him who, although his soul proportion was not as good as it, was not weaker than him because he had not been absorbed by the main soul.

"I originally thought it was miserable enough when I was a kid to get up in the middle of the night and drink cold water to make my stomach dizzy. Who knew there was such a stupid thing as eating corpses?" the diary complained, "He doesn't even know how to do it!"

It's hard for Tom to comment on whether it's more perverted to let his pet snake eat a corpse or to cook a human body. So he chose to keep his mouth shut.

Fortunately, the diary didn't mean to have a serious chat with him and reminisce about the past - thank God, Voldemort didn't like reminiscing - of course, settling old scores was another matter. After it complained, it kicked the wizards it controlled, causing them to kneel around the perimeter of the circular maze.

"One, two, three..." it carefully checked the number of glass balls and candlesticks, "two, four, six... um, no problem." It stretched its neck again - really stretched its neck - Check the hexagram in the center of the circular maze to make sure every vertex is clean.

"The time is coming." It said, and the black air masks on the faces of the wizards kneeling on the ground squirmed and expanded, covering their entire heads like black bags - it looked very ominous.

"We have to summon them over," Diary picked up his body, walked a few steps carefully, and finally found a favorite location, and placed the black leather notebook squarely on a vertex of the hexagram. "Where's your crown?"

Tom rolled his eyes, a little guilty and wanted to see the fake crown on his head - of course he couldn't see it.

"It's still early," he said, pretending to be calm.

The diary looked at him steadily for a while, and even though he still had that blurry and handsome face, he could still feel the playful look in his eyes.

"As you wish." It said softly, "Don't think that I don't know what you are thinking... I really don't know why you don't have any spirit of sacrifice -"

"Sacrifice?" Tom almost laughed.

But his weird tone still made the diary angry.

"What's so funny about this!" the diary shouted, "This is not for anyone else! Can't you make some contribution to our common good destiny! For the greater good, necessary sacrifices are inevitable ——”

These words came out of the diary that Tom overheard last time, who was desperately resisting the Dark Lord in the internal strife, and was then suppressed by a joint effort, which seemed particularly hilarious.

Tom actually laughed.

"Yes, yes, good boy," Tom Bird said in a perfunctory and loving tone, "you are so good." Seeing that the diary was about to get angry, he added lazily: "Just treat it as The longer I live, the more I fear death."

The fact that it is also Voldemort's soul piece limits the performance of the diary to a great extent. As the most impulsive and irritable part born in a low-income orphanage, it is natural that it can spit out a lot of vulgar words immediately - but it can't say it! This is true. Kill one thousand enemies and lose one thousand and two. The reason for the loss of two hundred is because if it really follows the meaning of the crown and attacks the fear of death in old age, probably the main soul will not mind letting it grow longer when it comes back. Memory.

It was so angry that it could only curse viciously: "Dead bird!"

"Okay, I'm a dead bird." Tom said casually, "As for you, just cherish the last time of being lively and jumping around."

"What... do you mean?" Diary's voice lowered, staring at him motionless, looking like a poisonous snake about to pounce.

If this were his own body, Tom would be sweating from behind. He wasn't sure if he had said the wrong thing - what was there to ask? The crown is not willing to be a stepping stone, so is the diary willing?

Did Voldemort promise that it would not take away its spirituality? Could it be that the soul piece that was stripped away before adulthood was really naive enough to believe in the promise of the main soul? Or... when Voldemort restored the diary, he took control of its brain?

Or... it's a strange thing that Voldemort didn't do anything to his soul piece, right?

Is he talking to sixteen-year-old Tom Riddle at this moment, or is he talking to Voldemort behind him?

He just hoped that Grindelwald would be powerful enough so that Voldemort would not be able to devote much attention to dealing with him - the fact that his Horcruxes were not so tame should be within Voldemort's expectations, so that he would not be particularly suspicious...

"Put your hope on him," he said calmly. Anyway, he had already reached this point, and it felt wrong not to provoke him. "You don't have the hope in your own hands, right?"

"Thank you for your kind reminder." There was a strange pause when the diary spoke, and his face became increasingly blurry, as if there was another humanoid shadow looming behind him controlling it. "Please also use your quilt." Think about it with your greed-occupied mind, if we kill each other at a critical moment, what will be the consequences?"

crucial moment.

Tom suddenly understood why Voldemort wanted to start a war at this time. He was not only collecting firewood for the ceremony, he was forcing Grindelwald and Dumbledore to take action against him - he was also forcing himself, leaving his Horcruxes with no choice but to work together under external pressure.

But this also shows that Voldemort's control over the diary is limited... If Voldemort could control his Horcruxes 100%, he would not need to use this method at all.

"If we only need one external voice," Tom Bird asked, a slight hint of magic mixing in his voice, "why can't it be you?"

The diary and the looming black shadow behind it looked at him.

More colorless mist quietly spread out with his voice, and his voice sounded more tempting under the influence of magic: "You are stronger than him... and younger..."

"Ah, you're thinking why I support you?" Tom Bird spread his wings, "I'm not competitive with either of you, and I haven't even fully figured out my own identity yet. So compared to him , I prefer you. Youth is hope," he laughed, "I'm sorry, I meant my hope. You must understand this selfishness, right?"