Draco Malfoy sat alone in the center of the room, writing carefully compiled stories in his journal.

A thick white mist still lingered around him, and the faint light reflected from a great height, casting shadowy black shadows in the depths of the mysterious mist, as if some ancient magical ritual was being performed.

Draco's heart pounded, and as time passed, the courage in his heart was dissipating in the silence.

Professor Dumbledore: Are they really still paying attention to the situation here?Did Tom Riddle find any loopholes in his story?How much time is left until the eldest sister agreed?

He struggled to gather his increasingly scattered thoughts, and the quill swiped back and forth across the page.

Falsifying a piece of history, even if only on a literal level, is not as easy as he imagined.

Whenever Draco finished writing a large paragraph, Tom Riddle would quietly "eat" it, asking questions based on the details or pretending to ask him some of the troubles of school life.

For some reason, Draco always felt a pair of cold, narrow eyes watching him from behind the diary, and more than once, he felt as if he was about to be pierced, and subconsciously prepared to pull out the Sorting Hat and put it on—this was the special code that Elena had agreed with him before, whether the time was over or not, as long as he put on the hat it meant that he was beginning to "break away".

However, in this way, it also means that his mission has failed.

"Just by unilaterally opening your soul, there is no way to make Voldemort show up......"

Draco Malfoy looked at the journal with a solemn expression, and the words Elena whispered in his ear came to mind.

"While you open your heart and restore the non-human and ghostly guy in the diary, I want you to find a way to force or lure Voldemort to open a small part of his soul to you, and of course, you have to be very careful......"

In the "parallel future world" he carefully weaved, the Malfoy family's situation was far more miserable than it is now.

With the collapse of the Dark Demons, the loyal Death Eaters who had gathered around Voldemort were subjected to a ruthless liquidation by the Ministry of Magic and Albus Dumbledore......

Even......

Even at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the wizards of Slytherin House have been reduced to street rats, and there is gossip that Dumbledore and the school's board of trustees may be considering abolishing or rebuilding the house.

“...... Last semester, our college's lounge was breached. ”

Draco Malfoy had to concentrate and immerse himself in that sense of grief and frustration, or he feared that the eyes behind the diary would see that there seemed to be a huge dissonance between his mood and what he was writing.

"Dozens of seniors and seniors were repeatedly beaten up in the corners of the school by unknown thugs, and after losing a Quidditch match, we even had to organize a banquet with a smile on our faces to meet those who had defeated us by despicable means. In Head Slytherin's class, Hufflepuff juniors can even stand on the podium and point fingers......"

"Every night, the Slytherin students gather in the common room in trepidation, watching the fish in the Black Lagoon being slaughtered, and the rest of the auditorium enjoying the sumptuous delicacies, only our tables are filled with stench and strange food darker than night......"

"Not only that, but from the moment I entered the school, we were like the most humble house-elves, spending extra time and energy in the fields outside the castle in addition to our weekly lessons......

"I once wanted to surrender and take refuge in those strong people......"

"But in the end, all that was exchanged was alienation, ridicule, and endless beatings and teasing, and the beautiful girls from the other colleges would rather find another girl to fall in love with than set their eyes on us for even a moment......

"Over the years, we wizards in Slytherin House have not lived like people......"

"And all this, all of this, is all through your fault!"

Draco Malfoy scribbled in his journal, so hard that he burst the page.

"Voldemort, Tom Riddle, you ruined Slytherin House! You ruined the last glory of the pure-blood wizarding family!

"I ......" seemed to be shocked by Malfoy's barrage of questions, and the new handwriting on the journal suddenly froze.

Of course, it is also possible that it took him a few extra seconds to repair the pages that had been punctured by the quill.

All in all, compared to before, Tom Riddle's text reply speed this time is very obvious to be a little slow and hesitant, as if he is thinking about how to phrase and answer.

Before new words could appear in his diary, Draco Malfoy took a deep breath and wrote quickly with a hideous expression.

"If you're really the greatest wizard of all time, then why don't you speak!"

"What I want to say is, I can actually change ......"

Riddle's handwriting appeared directly below Draco's words, his handwriting scribbling as if there was a fire burning in his heart, and he couldn't wait to say something in response to Draco's questioning.

It's just that, compared to Draco Malfoy, who was prepared early, Riddle's response was still half a beat slower after all.

"Liars, fake news, all ridiculous rumors!"

The quill in Draco Malfoy's hand was writing at a rapid pace, even a few points faster than Ron could copy his homework.

After the previous chat, he had gradually mastered Tom Riddle's reply speed, and under such a sudden and sudden speed, the Dark Lord, who had not been able to change the rhythm of the previous conversation, was obviously starting to have the upper hand.

"Young Malfoy, calm down, wait for me to speak—"

"What Salazar Slytherin's descendants, what Slytherin's glory again, what wizards who defeated death, what pure-blood wizards' hopes...... Maybe you once had a glimmer of hope, but now you're just a ridiculous memory hiding behind a diary, stammering and cowering!"

Draco clenched the quill so hard that he nearly knocked over the inkwell next to him with his arm swinging so fast.

"If you really have the power to change the situation, then you will appear in front of me first-"

Whoop -

The journal seemed to be blown by a strong wind, and the pages were turning back and forth, so much so that Draco Malfoy couldn't even find room to put his pen down.

It wasn't until a few seconds later that the journal came back to rest and returned to the first page from which it began.

When Draco Malfoy's gaze returned to the paper, he found that it had been densely smeared with black ink, leaving only a blank white space in the middle, forming a somewhat confusing reply.

"Since you insist on it and are willing to suffer the consequences......"

Tom Riddle replied in his diary, and there seemed to be a hint of resentment and coldness hidden in the words.

"Text communication is indeed too slow and slow, chanting this magic spell will temporarily share some of your magic, I can appear in front of you, and then you will understand what it means to be a true descendant of Slytherin-"

Draco hesitated to stop his quill - in fact, he had no place to put it.

Immediately after, two more lines of white content popped up in the diary.

A strange-looking awkward spell.

and, a blank rectangular block.

Finally...... Is it time to face the Dark Lord?

Draco Malfoy closed his eyes, took a deep breath, paused, took the crumpled peaked wizard's hat from his bosom and waved it in the air, raised his quill, and trembled to write a word in the blank space.

"Okay. ”

His lips quivered, and he whispered the strange spell from his notebook.

Before he could react to what was going on, he felt as if a hole had been broken in his body, and something unseen was flowing out of him, and he felt his body begin to become cold rapidly......

And in the field of vision directly in front of him, a vague figure was gradually taking shape.

"What a stupid and arrogant little guy......"

A voice said softly.

The vague figure gradually became clear, a tall boy with dark hair, and Draco Malfoy frowned hard, trying to concentrate on getting a better look at Tom Riddle.

Sleepy and tired, it was like a layer of foggy glass blocking his vision.

"Tom-Tom Riddle?"

"It's a pity, I can't explain much to you......"

Riddle nodded, curiously surveying the dense white mist around him, reaching out and easily snatching the wand he had just drawn from Malfoy's hand, and was about to cast his magic and light some light to expel the mist.

Suddenly—