The sound of chewing food echoed piercingly in the vast hall.
Voldemort...
Harry suppressed his wildly beating heart and instinctively squeezed his body further under the guest table, not daring to let even a corner of his clothes show.
Why, why would Voldemort be here eating in the hall?
Harry, unwilling to give up, stuck his head out for another look: a black cloak, a bald white head, the rare sight of a prison guard under the table...
Good, Harry's anxious heart died completely.
It really was Voldemort, that man sitting by the table obediently eating, acting no different from any ordinary little wizard, turned out to be Voldemort...
Harry only felt his nerves inside his brain beginning to jump wildly...
Time seemed to stretch on, a minute? An hour? Or had a whole day passed?
He didn't know, time simply slipped away, quickly, and fear suddenly grabbed his heart tightly, making his breathing increasingly difficult—"Are you okay?" "!"
"Bang!"
Harry instinctively stepped back, then his head banged against the underside of the guest table, he instinctively covered his head but found there was no pain. Taking a deep breath, Harry looked again at the concerned Little Tom pressing his own knee.
"No... um, did Voldemort leave?"
Harry asked while sticking his head out for another look, the terrifying figure was no longer in the hall.
"Voldemort? That's what you call Voldemort?" Little Tom asked curiously.
"...Yes, you... that's Voldemort." Harry instinctively changed his wording, to avoid speaking nonsense that might draw out Little Tom's "memories," which would be bad, as he was unclear about this eight-year-old Tom Riddle's situation, in case the other was Voldemort disguised just to mess with him...
"Then, am I also Voldemort?"
Little Tom wrinkled his nose, words from his thirty-seven-degree mouth sent chills from Harry's head to his feet, "...Such an unpleasant name, I don't want to be called that." Finally, under Harry's terrified gaze, Little Tom shook his head, indicating his dislike for the name.
"You..."
Harry was left speechless, opening his mouth as if to ask something but not knowing where to begin.
Finally, Harry could only sigh, "Tom?"
"Hm?"
"How much do you actually know about this place?"
"Hm... not much."
"...Not much, how much is that?"
After waiting for a long time with no further explanation, Harry had to ask again, feeling like he had encountered a question robot that only responded when asked directly—
"I only know this is the boundary of life and death, and those who arrive here are all dead—"
Little Tom counted on his fingers, speaking clearly word by word.
"All dead?!"
Harry widened his eyes, his voice raising by eight degrees, "Bang!" he instinctively stood up, again bumping his head.
Seeing Harry squatting back down holding his head again, Little Tom couldn't help but laugh, "Yes, I am already dead, you are already dead, and that one called... Voldemuffin earlier is also dead..." then the boy couldn't help wrinkling his nose again—it seemed he truly disliked the name.
"It's Voldemort... dead? Impossible! We can still talk, still walk, still talk—" Harry's reaction was intense, he crawled out from under the guest table, his gaze instinctively sweeping around, the purely white decor stung his eyes.
Saying this, Harry walked down from the high platform, quickly running to the side door of the hall, reached out to tug—it opened, revealing a hazy white chamber beyond; he looked at the lone turning spiral staircase not far away, remaining silent.
He had never seen Hogwarts Castle so silent.
Even during his midnight roaming, the hall would occasionally have ghosts floating by, yet now, not only were the ghosts gone, even the frames along the walls had become blank wooden boards; Harry instinctively tapped the nearest frame, not drawing a noble-attired ghost to reprimand him for disrespecting elders...
"There's no one else in this castle, besides me you're the first outsider I've seen." Little Tom's faint voice sounded behind Harry.
"...That Voldemort just now?" Harry was momentarily stunned.
"Him? He's just a bigger version of me."
Little Tom shook his head, apparently confused by Harry's question, "Didn't I tell you? Aside from 'me,' it's just you here."
"What... you knew that Voldemort is your grown-up self?"
"I knew, from the beginning."
Little Tom strangely sidestepped Harry, walking lightly to where the entrance hall and main door connected, "They all grow ugly, Harry, you know what I went through to become so ugly? Here, lend a hand!"
So saying, Little Tom rested his hands on the heavy door, his frail figure a pitiable comparison to the door.
"Uh..."
Harry swallowed, placing his hand on the heavy wood door with Little Tom, pushing lightly, "You... didn't do much, um, studied quite a bit of dark arts, did some bad things, also... killed a fair number of people..."
"Oh, that really is quite bad."
Little Tom nodded, lightly responding.
With the two working together, the door slowly creaked open, Harry instinctively attempted to go out but was suddenly grabbed by the sleeve, "Hey! Be careful." Little Tom indicated downward, Harry looked down, seeing white mist quietly floating on the ground...
No, there is no ground at all.
Looking at the cliff beneath the gate, which was as neatly cut as if by a knife, cold sweat began to trickle down Harry's back.
"There's only a castle here."
Little Tom pointed to the distance, and Harry looked up, seeing nothing in the white mist. Noticing Harry's blank stare, Little Tom shrugged, "So, if you're going to ask me how to leave, I don't know either."
"..."
Staring at the boundless white in front of him, the color that usually calms people now seemed...a bit terrifying to Harry.
"By the way, you said earlier that when I killed someone, you seemed a bit upset?"
"...Because my parents were killed by Voldemort."
"Oh, I'm really sorry, do you want to hit me to let off some steam?"
"?"
Hearing Little Tom's words, Harry suddenly felt tempted, rubbing his fist—wow, what an enticing proposal!
"Forget it, you're not him." Harry clenched his fist but ultimately gave up.
"Actually, we're the same, I haven't lived any more lives, so I really don't understand how I even appeared..."
Little Tom seemed a bit sad, sitting by the gate, his legs swinging in the white mist, "Actually, my mom was also killed by that Voldemort you speak of. I'm very sad, but I don't know what to do..."
"...You just said us, here, exactly how many, uh, you are there?"
Seeing the boy's low spirits, Harry also sat down, empathetically changing the subject. Looking at the little boy who was no different from an ordinary eight-year-old, Harry couldn't help but wonder, how did such a little boy grow up to become a monster like Voldemort?
But Harry obviously didn't know, the Little Tom in front of him and the real Voldemort's childhood were worlds apart.
To sum it up briefly, Voldemort had no mother.
"Let me count..." Little Tom nodded, starting to count on his fingers, "One hidden in a cup, one in a box, one in a crown, and two had a fight, now there's only one...plus me, there are five in total."
As he spoke, Little Tom continued, "The Voldemort you just saw was those two after the fight—"
"Fight? Became one?"
Harry repeated, feeling as if he recognized each letter in the sentence, but when combined, it seemed a bit...
"Yes, there was one bald guy and an older brother, and then they argued and fought, and the older brother disappeared after the fight—"
"Because I ate him—"
"I see...?"
Harry instinctively turned around but saw at the bottom of the spiral staircase, a bald man in a black robe standing there, looking at them from afar with red eyes and a cruel smile on his pale face.
"So, I wasn't wrong, a little bug did sneak in, endlessly calling my name..." Voldemort stuck out his tongue, a snake-like tongue licking his own lips, "Harry Potter, long time no see—"
"Tom—"
"Huh?"
"Don't call me by that name!!"
"Crucio!" The blinding red light from the man's wand struck fiercely at Harry, causing the boy to fall backward uncontrollably. The pain induced muscle spasms, rendering him unable to even reach out.
"Harry!"
Little Tom instinctively reached out, grabbing Harry by the hair, planting his feet on the door frame, heaved Harry back up. Feeling his hair about to be torn out, Harry gasped for air while gripping the door's tile tightly.
"Ha, indeed, insects should huddle for warmth—"
"Is that so? Tom, so you also think that your Death Eaters who huddle for warmth are insects? Then what are you? The dung beetle king?"
Harry instinctively retorted and immediately regretted it as Voldemort's gaze looked murderous...
"Die, Potter."
Voldemort expressionlessly raised his wand again—
"Avada Kedavra!"
A blinding green lightning flashed from behind Voldemort, piercing through his chest. His body wavered like a mist; the Killing Curse clearly didn't achieve its intended effect, leaving the spellcaster who had just climbed out of the fireplace slightly annoyed, clicking his tongue.
"Senior?"
Harry's eyes widened with surprise.
"Is that you?"
Voldemort instinctively squinted.
"Teacher?"
Little Tom's eyes were even wider than Harry's.
"Harry, the jailer, and Tom... wait, this is a bit chaotic, let me sort it out."
Brushing the dust off himself and standing straight, William began to ponder—what exactly had happened.