Harry Potter: Glory Bows to Me

Durmstrang, by the lake behind the mountains.

The night wind swept across the cold lake, causing waves to surge. Darkness enveloped the earth, leaving only the sparkling lake water reflecting the faint light of the night sky.

Julius Hoffmann sat by the lake, digging his fingers into the cold wet soil until his knuckles turned white.

His black robe was slightly open, revealing his thin chest. The night wind made his paler face even worse. His black hair was scattered and stuck to his cheekbones, setting off his dark eyes - his eyes were empty and silent like death.

He won't survive the summer.

He was thirteen years old, in the prime of his youth, but his life was about to end.

This disease tormented him, and his body was a dilapidated shell since birth.

All treatments were ineffective, and all magic could not dispel the weakness that was engraved into the bone marrow.

His bones were fragile and his internal organs were failing. In the middle of the night, his body seemed to be burning in flames. The severe pain made him curl up into a ball, wishing he could die immediately.

He once had hope, but on that day, the doctor told him in a calm tone: "You only have a few months left at most, and you may not even make it through the summer."

Hope dies.

Julius stared at the lake, his fingers tightening in the wet soil, the soil sinking deep into the cracks between his nails, causing a slight sting.

“…How ridiculous.”

He chuckled to himself, the sound like a whisper squeezed out from the depths of his throat.

He thought he would at least have more time, at least be able to do something, at least be able to... be alive.

But he doesn't even have this right.

He suddenly raised his hand, grabbed the gravel on the ground and smashed it into the lake. The water splashed into ripples in the darkness, like the only echo in the dead silence.

“Ridiculous, ridiculous, ridiculous…”

His breathing was rapid, his fingertips trembled, and the pain in his body made cold sweat break out on his forehead. He clenched his teeth to prevent himself from groaning.

If he was going to die eventually, why let him live until now?

What was the meaning of these thirteen years of suffering?

He stared at the lake, his body trembling slightly. The anger and despair in his heart were entangled together, like invisible shackles, binding him in this frail body.

Then--

"What if you want to live?"

A deep voice came from the darkness.

Julius's eyes suddenly became sharp. He turned his head suddenly and looked coldly in the direction where the voice came from.

A figure slowly walked towards them in the dark woods.

It was a man in a black robe with a hood hanging low, covering most of his face, leaving his exposed jaw pale and cold.

He walked with steady steps, and there was a hidden sense of oppression emanating from him, like a messenger of death.

Julius did not move, but stared at him coldly.

"Who are you?" His voice was hoarse and alert.

The man did not answer, but slowly stretched out his hand, and a tattered black diary lay quietly in his palm.

Julius's eyes narrowed slightly.

The man's voice was still low: "Do you want to live?"

Julius's Adam's apple rolled, and a complex emotion flashed in his dark eyes.

Want to survive?

Of course he does.

But he didn't believe that was possible.

He sneered, his tone full of sarcasm: "You want me to believe that a broken notebook in your hand can keep me alive?"

The man did not respond, but casually opened the diary, took out a feather pen, and slowly wrote a few words on the title page -

【Hello. 】

In an instant, the ink seemed to be absorbed by some invisible force and slowly seeped into the paper.

The next second, a line of words slowly emerged:

【Hello, Julius Hoffmann.】

Julius' pupils shrank slightly, and his eyes suddenly became sharp.

"……What's this?"

The man didn't answer, but gently handed the diary to him.

"Take it and try it."

Julius hesitated for a moment. His intuition told him that this was definitely not an ordinary item.

But he finally reached out and slowly took the diary.

The cool touch passed through his fingertips. He frowned slightly and looked down at the old notebook, his fingertips stroking the texture of the paper.

He slowly turned the page, hesitated for a moment, and finally picked up the quill and wrote a simple word.

【Who are you? 】

The ink seeped into the paper, and after a few seconds, new words appeared -

[I am Tom Riddle. 】

Julius narrowed his eyes, his fingers tapping the pages mindlessly.

"……interesting."

He murmured quietly.

-----------------

Julius took the diary back to his dormitory.

He was skeptical at first, as the book did not look like an ordinary magical item, but with his knowledge of magic, he could not detect any traces of dark magic.

He experimented all night, trying different spells, even using fire to force it, but the diary showed no response.

In the end, he chose the most direct method - to continue writing.

Are you a living soul?

[No, I'm just a memory.]

Where do your memories come from?

【Hogwarts.】

【Why are you here? 】

【I am waiting for someone who can communicate with me. 】

Julius stared at the words, his fingertips unconsciously stroking the end of the quill.

He had thought it was just an ordinary magic diary, but now... he was beginning to have doubts.

He wrote again—

What can you do?

【I can talk to you, give you advice, and answer your questions. 】

Julius sneered, his eyes slightly cold.

【Then can you let me live? 】

This time, the diary was silent for a long time.

After a few seconds, new words slowly emerged:

[Maybe. ]

Julius's eyes suddenly became dark.

He looked at the line of words quietly, his fingertips slowly tightened, and his thoughts surged.

This thing is really dangerous.

but……

What if it gave him a little hope?

Julius raised his head and looked at the night outside the window. His eyes were heavy and a faint smile slowly appeared at the corners of his lips.

"Then... let me see what you can do."

He slowly picked up the pen and continued writing.

And this was the first step in his fall into the abyss.