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Chapter 1083: The World of Death
🕑 Added 2024-04-21 06:23:18 +0000 UTCTom Riddle’s milky white body swayed; and the doubts in Evan’s heart became stronger.
He actually said that when he was created, he didn't know the specific method of making a Horcrux or how to split a soul. So how did he come out?
But one thing was certain, this Horcrux was weird.
"Professor Slughorn liked me very much, he gave me a lot of privileges and help, but... well, let's talk about the Horcrux," said Riddle, cautiously avoiding Gryffindor’s sword aimed at him, slowly moving towards the ring inside the cabinet. "My appearance was an accident, strictly speaking, I am not a Horcrux, or rather, I am a special Horcrux because my appearance was not within the original plan and was not made according to the normal method."
"What do you mean?"
"As you know, I was looking for ways to make Horcruxes at that time. I still had several key issues unresolved, including how to split my soul, although I had some guesses about it,” said Riddle. "But I didn't want to start making the first Horcrux so soon. First, I hadn't found the right tools; second, I didn't want to do it under Dumbledore's watchful eyes, that would be too foolish, wouldn't it?”
Evan responded with silence, but he agreed with Riddle’s idea.
Although Dumbledore was not the headmaster at the time, he was already recognized as the strongest wizard.
Playing some tricks under his gaze, forming one's own power base, perhaps that could be done, after all, it was a Slytherin tradition.
But engaging in such evil magic research, making Horcruxes, that was really too risky, in case one's true intentions were revealed, it would be disastrous.
Having said that, Evan knew that Riddle succeeded in the end!
Both the ring and the diary were made when he was a student, when he was only fifteen or sixteen years old.
Of course, he stopped after that because he had aroused Dumbledore's suspicions.
"I didn't have so many ideas at the time. It might be ridiculous to say it, but I just wanted to stay in Hogwarts. After all, it was the first place I could call home." Riddle paused for a moment before continuing, "It was in my fifth year that I got some information, Professor Merrythought, the teacher of Defense Against the Dark Arts, was about to retire, she had been in that position for fifty years. If possible, I hoped to take over her position."
"You're off topic again," Evan reminded. "I'm not interested in your dreams."
Whether what Riddle said was true or not, those were his thoughts when he was fifteen, knowing this didn't hold any significance.
Their real trouble now was Voldemort, whose soul had been split and had joined forces with the evil god, not Tom Riddle, a fifteen-year-old boy who was full of ideals and ambitions and was ready to do something big, and his ideas were undoubtedly absurd.
History had proven that he did not succeed in getting the position and Dumbledore turned him down.
"Do you know why I hate communicating with brats like you?" said Riddle contemptuously, "Impatient..."
"You are not much older than me," Evan retorted.
"My actual age is more than enough to be your grandparent. Don't think of me as a brat like you."
"Obviously, if you include the more than half a century that you have been locked in a drawer, then it is true, you’re much older than me, really a rich and colorful life experience,” said Evan, pointing Gryffindor’s sword at him. “I must remind you again, and for the last time, the little brat you're talking about can decide whether you need to exist. I really don't have much patience. Please don't challenge it unless you want to try whether Gryffindor's sword is as sharp as the legend says."
"What do you want to know?" Riddle's face darkened again.
"Continue to talk about your identity, that is, the specific process of making this Horcrux," said Evan, pointing at the ring in the cabinet with his sword. "Since you did not master the specific method of splitting the soul and making the Horcrux at the time, then how were you made?"
"I just said, evil deeds can cause the soul to split, maybe I was too evil," Riddle suddenly let out a strange laugh, seeming to be amused by his own answer. "That's right, surely. Killing my father with my own hands, ending that filthy Muggle who was related to me by blood, is there anything more evil than this? Maybe because of this, I split from the body."
Evan frowned, was that the specific process? The act of killing his father caused his soul to automatically split?
This behavior was indeed very evil, and it did sound like it could be the case, but it was a bit strange.
If it were that simple, Horcruxes would probably be everywhere!
The most obvious example was Barty Crouch Jr., who worshiped Voldemort almost to the point of madness.
Therefore, he also killed his father with his own hands, which made him feel that he and Voldemort had something in common, but his soul did not split.
Did that mean he was not as evil as fifteen-year-old Tom Riddle? Was his hatred towards his father not as strong as Riddle's?
This simply didn’t hold up, Barty Crouch Jr. was a pure psychopath.
Just in terms of evilness, although there was no way to compare, he was definitely not weaker than the fifteen-year-old Riddle.
"You're not telling the truth," said Evan, looking into Riddle's eyes. "Don't think I don't understand anything."
Very rarely, Tom Riddle avoided Evan's gaze, which was not like him at all.
"You are much more difficult to deal with than I thought!" His voice quickly regained its calmness. "I originally planned to use these things as bargaining chips with Dumbledore, but now it seems I have to say, it's the gem on the ring, the Resurrection Stone as you call, it has a special power, a very special power..."
"The Resurrection Stone will not split people's souls!"
"It won't, but it can make you see Death.”
"Death?!"
"Yes, that's what he called himself. This Resurrection Stone and the ring combine to form a strange magic, not a magic I can understand," said Riddle. "That night, it brought me to the realm of the dead, where I saw many people, including my father, my mother, my grandfather, and Death. When I came back, a part of my soul was left there forever and could never return to my body, that is what you are looking at now."
Evan looked at him, raising his eyebrows, this sounded as absurd as the most whimsical novel.
He had never heard or thought the Resurrection Stone could have such power; at least it didn't appear in the original work.
"Incredible, isn't it? But I'm telling the truth this time. There is magic on the ring that I don't understand."
"Even if what you say is true, don't tell me you haven't studied..."
"Studied?" A sneer appeared on Riddle's face and he asked, "Studied what? Death, or my mother? Ridiculous, I have no interest in either. What I want to do is escape death, not approach it. You don't understand at all what I saw at that time, the World of Death, something you can never imagine..."
