The world seemed to have hit the pause button.
Tom—the sixteen-year-old handsome version of "Voldemort Jr." who had seized Voldemort's new body—his self-satisfied expression suddenly froze and then cracks of astonishment appeared. He was still trying to wield the Magic Wand, but that Purple Fir Wand seemed to have turned into an ordinary stick, no glimmer of light shining from it anymore.
"What are you doing..."
Before Tom could finish asking, a familiar scene unfolded before his eyes. This time, however, what stretched out from the mouth appeared more like an arm. Dumbledore's light blue eyes suddenly lit up. A solemn expression appeared on his face, not even having the time to attend to Snape, who had fallen to the ground again.
Harry, who was helping Cedric take off his heavy armor, seemed to sense something as well. He instinctively covered his forehead, his emerald pupils constricting sharply from the pain.
"What...what?! Who?! Who's inside?!"
Tom's handsome face began to contort, his voice filled with an incredulous terror. He instinctively grabbed at the hand extending from his mouth, attempting to forcibly shove it back.
Diary Tom had spent some time inside Harry's head, even acting as a medium for Harry to learn Ancient Magic for a while. Even the Dream Magic that William later developed and turned into an art was originally devised from the prototype he crafted.
So, at this moment, he could clearly feel a strange will trying to kick him out—directly—from this body!
"No! Impossible! Only I should..."
Diary Tom attempted to regain control of the Magic Power to quell this bizarre turn of events—but, standing before him was another individual.
"Bang—"
William punched Diary Tom in the face; blood was shed from this newly born body for the first time. Holding the thought that he might not get another chance to strike, William settled some personal grievances before raising his hand again to grasp the opponent's face.
"It's you! Damn it! Let me go! William Richard!!"
Diary Tom finally understood the meaning behind William's earlier words of "buying time." Clearly, it wasn't time given to him to adapt and escape after getting used to the body, but for some consciousness to repeat the act he did just five minutes ago, which was somehow hidden inside him.
"Get out! This is my body! My rebirth!"
Diary Tom let out a piercing scream, struggling fiercely, attempting to break free from William's grasp.
In William's eyes, these two Toms appeared like two rivaling blue and red light clusters, and it was evident that the "seed" planted in the depths of Voldemort's soul, although well-hidden, seemed incapable of autonomously becoming the dominant force of this body due to its age and experience.
Yet—William squinted, merely staring at those light clusters, even though the weak blue light was nearly devoured by the red glow, William made no move and continued to clasp Voldemort's slick head until a faint black hue emerged in the center of the light cluster...
Very good...
Seeing this, William couldn't help but curl the corners of his mouth, the sandpiper and clam were fighting, and finally, the fisherman couldn't sit still anymore...
William's palm exerted a slight force; blue light shone from the depths of Voldemort's scarlet eyes, a sky-high blue beam illuminating half the night sky.
Then, suddenly, the newly born, supposed vibrant body began to wrinkle, melt, and collapse like a wax figure melted by high heat, with the supportive muscle structure in his arm drawn away completely, starting to contract and wither—
But immediately after, it inflated with air like a grotesque tumor, the spine emitting a teeth-gritting twisting sound beneath the melting flesh.
"Ahhh—"
A non-human agonized roar tore through the night sky, not emanating from any consciousness in that body but more like a primal scream from the metamorphosing flesh.
"Boom—"
Then, as if a string snapped, Voldemort's main soul broke free—
This was clearly orchestrated by William. That suddenly brightened black light cluster almost unhesitatingly pounced on the red light cluster. The black and red shadows collided like two snarling beasts, thus giving the frail blue light a brief reprieve.
"Get away! You damn waste! Dregs!"
Diary Tom's consciousness shrieked frantically amidst the scarlet mist, furious and alarmed, the main soul's escape disrupted his plans again. What terrified him more was seeming everything still within William's calculations—"Richard! Damn you, you'll never—Avada—"
He attempted to forcefully gather Magic Power once again, this time, a self-destructive spell intending mutual destruction.
But how could William possibly give him this chance?
"Where are you looking!?!"
The black fog seized the moment the red mist became distracted and fiercely "bit" onto the latter, which, though relatively solid, was now wavering due to the physical collapse, tearing away a huge mass of "flesh" from it.
"Damn!! You madman?!"
Diary Tom, startled and furious, instinctively retaliated, "You want to drag me down? Let the one below, that damned newcomer, reap the benefits?!" Although his tone was unkind, he still tried to sway his main soul with words—unfortunately, due to William's influence, Voldemort's main soul had lost all logic.
He didn't even glance back at the blue light picking at their leftover scraps, without hesitation he attacked the red mist once more.
"All I want now is for you to die!!!"
These two souls, born of the same origin, engaged in a savage battle within the collapsing body, the scarlet and dark soul energies clashing and tearing violently. Each clash impacted reality, causing the seriously compromised youthful body to utter cries of unbearable strain.
Meanwhile, the faint blue light silently followed behind, pickings up scraps torn off during their struggle, growing with unimaginable speed.
"Where's the fisherman?"
William seemed to be talking to himself, his voice low yet extremely clear. Hearing these words, Diary Tom was instantly engulfed by despair. He finally pulled back from his feud with the main soul, turning to see the endless blue storm quietly hovering there as if awaiting the outcome of the infighting.
"...Here's the fisherman."
A slightly immature voice gently replied.