The Diary Horcrux, Tom Riddle, was a fascinating entity.
As Lockhart delved deeper into communication and understanding of Tom Riddle, an intriguing question arose: given Voldemort's nature, why would he tolerate the existence of a Horcrux that could devise its own resurrection, even entrusting it to his subordinate, Lucius Malfoy, for safekeeping?
This seemed like an open invitation for trouble, surely.
Lockhart honestly asked himself, if he had created such a thing, he would absolutely not be willing to leave it with Hermione or Harry; he'd be plagued by sleepless nights.
Now, he had an answer.
The decision to give the Diary Horcrux to Lucius for safekeeping wasn't a choice made by Voldemort's brain, but by his mind.
He subconsciously did so, deceiving his own self-preservation mechanisms, preventing any anxiety or ill thoughts from arising due to this decision.
Lockhart called this the 'mind's self-redemption'.
The ancients spoke of the unity of knowledge and action. Such behaviour aligns with the mind's awareness. The only issue is that many only reach awareness on a thought level, not a mental one.
Voldemort's act of retaining the Diary Horcrux was precisely his mind's self-redemption.
Before he completely succumbed to self-destruction, he left himself a 'regret potion'.
This 'regret potion' was the part of himself that still clung to a flicker of love, yearned for the future, and was still willing to open his heart to the world – the very self who had just begun dabbling with Horcruxes.
Lockhart wasn't sure if the current Voldemort, having experienced death, defeat, loss of power, and over a decade of dormancy, had realised this.
It was hard to guess what Voldemort, observing from his cold perch in the Hogwarts Forbidden Forest as the Horcrux Tom Riddle unleashed the Basilisk and manipulated Ginny along his path of self-redemption, might have been thinking.
Perhaps it was positive, holding onto some hope for himself, secretly wishing that Tom Riddle would succeed in resurrecting.
Perhaps it was cowardly, unable to make a choice himself, thus taking no action, waiting for his past, vibrant self to successfully resurrect and kill his current, failed self, or waiting for Dumbledore to notice the problem and help him destroy his past self.
Perhaps it was malicious, hoping that the so-called 'Boy-Who-Lived', Harry Potter, would confront Tom Riddle according to the prophecy. Then, he could observe whether that prophecy still held true after his own death, and eagerly await Harry killing him once more, hoping that this would finally end the prophecy for good.
He didn't know.
The human heart was so complex.
Lockhart stopped pondering such questions. He simply knew that Voldemort's mind's tail, this 'regret potion' that was Tom Riddle, this saved version of himself from before he fully embarked on his dark magical path, was now in his hands!
Understanding these things was quite significant.
Because, on the dimension of the mind, a more complete Tom Riddle was clearly superior to Voldemort.
This meant that if a Tom Riddle truly existed as the soul supported by the Horcrux in material reality, then Voldemort's soul would genuinely perish.
You see, once you truly grasp the fundamental nature of how magic works, some things seem so simple.
Just like a Boggart, which cannot be killed by the Killing Curse or any other powerful magic, yet can be defeated with a single 'Riddikulus' charm.
Lockhart had no interest in saving Voldemort or Tom Riddle.
He understood the cold-blooded cruelty within Tom's very being; whichever iteration it was, he would always be a Dark Lord who would ultimately bring destruction.
But the sixteen-year-old Tom Riddle was undoubtedly easier to deal with than the already extreme and powerful Voldemort, not to mention being held firmly in Lockhart's grasp now.
What did it mean to find a solution tailored to specific characteristics?
This was it!
Resurrect Tom Riddle to a wraith-like state, then find an opportunity to kill Voldemort. Because of the Horcrux's protection of the soul, Voldemort would autonomously choose to protect the more complete soul of Tom Riddle, allowing his own soul to dissipate.
Self-redemption often leads towards a better path.
But sometimes, destiny is so cruel—better means weaker, means easier to kill.
At that point, even if Lockhart somehow messed up and Tom Riddle escaped, such a sixteen-year-old Dark Lord fledgling, untempered by life's trials, wouldn't stand a chance against Dumbledore, who would hunt him down and finish him in a matter of minutes.
To hope that Dumbledore would still feel any tenderness towards Tom at that point? Ha, you might as well hope Dumbledore would release Grindelwald from Nurmengard.
Of course, messing up was out of the question.
No one understood the Defence Against the Dark Arts better than Lockhart. He knew how to deal with Tom Riddle, a being with the characteristics of a dark magical entity.
Blood Pacts.
Ancient wizards casting spells with blood as a medium were simply too numerous to count. Interestingly, he now controlled Tom Riddle's 'body'.
The death knell, for whom did it toll?
Madam Mary once again saw her mother, her mother who had begun to exhibit characteristics of a Banshee, attracted by the scent of death, appearing outside the wooden house, sitting solemnly on a wooden chair beneath the large tree by the house.
Mist enveloped the island, and a mystical aura surged.
She heard a cry of pain and quickly refocused her attention on the wooden house.
Evidently, 'Voldemort' had kept his previous declaration. After his good friend, whom he was trying to break ties with, continued to speak to him, he cut off his own little finger and threw it at the other person, as a declaration of his resolve.
The events unfolding on this small island were so absurdly bizarre.
Madam Mary once again saw Professor Lockhart's students.
The famous Boy-Who-Lived, Harry Potter, was a strong-willed sheriff. As someone who knew about the world outside the island, he received much flattery and often liked to follow conspiracy theories, always recounting sensational news, such as a young man drowning, gaining much attention. But he could never control his foolish son.
His foolish son was Ron, another friend of Professor Lockhart.
In fact, the sheriff wasn't the only one communicating with the outside world. Professor Lockhart's other student, Hermione, who was portrayed as Professor Lockhart's sister on this island, finally received a letter from outside.
Professor Lockhart, clutching his best friend's finger in sorrow, returned home and saw the letter, angrily arguing with his sister.
"Do you hear the cannon fire across the sea?"
He was so enraged, pointing into the distance, "There's a war going on out there! This is the safest place in the world, and yet you still want to go? You know nothing about anything out there!"
"Yes, I still want to go," his sister Hermione shouted. "Even if I know nothing, I know there's nothing on this island. I yearn for a richer future. I can't stand the barrenness here, I've had enough!"
And just like that, Professor Lockhart lost his best friend, his dearest relative, and another friend—a bit foolish, but always kind to him—all in one night.
Yes, the sheriff's son, Ron, had drowned in the sea.
Heaven knows how despairing Professor Lockhart felt, climbing the cliff to watch his sister sail away, only to find the body of his other friend washed up on the shore on his way home.
Solitude, life, eternity, death—such topics were always so heavy.
Madam Mary sighed, watching this scene, and finally turned her gaze to 'Voldemort', who might be the future Dark Lord.
She was actually a little afraid to explore the information hidden within this past.
Was she truly burdened with the bloodline of the Dark Lord?
This was truly too absurd.
She didn't know how to exercise the abilities of a 'Time Explorer'. She hadn't received any guidance from the Yaxley family and could only quietly observe everything as an outsider.
Fortunately, what happened next told her that this was not the case.
Corban discovered his mother's suspicious tracking. Voldemort, who was preparing to sail out to find something, paid no mind, merely instructing Corban to lock the witch up.
But precisely this arrangement allowed certain events to unfold.
The imprisoned beautiful witch and Corban, a naturally flamboyant man with immense family power, soon found themselves attracted to each other.
Ha!
This was utterly ridiculous!
Madam Mary watched the scene in disbelief. Corban Yaxley was her blood father?
No wonder he instinctively sought her help when he was at his wit's end!
So she did something a 'Time Explorer' shouldn't do—she revealed her presence to others, appearing beside her mother, hoping to stop the continuation of this cursed bloodline.
"Do you not think the cursed power within you is terrifying enough? Yet you still provoke someone from the Yaxley family?"
She tried to persuade her mother like this.
But such struggles were futile. What had already happened in the past could not be changed, and all her efforts were in vain.
She even frankly confessed to her mother that she was her future daughter, painfully recounting the sorrowful life caused by her bloodline, hoping to bring an end to it here.
However, the mad witch excitedly grabbed her, bringing her before Corban, as if boasting, and excitedly said, "Darling, look, quickly look, this is our future, this is our future!"
They had such a beautiful outcome!
She tried to attack Corban Yaxley but found she couldn't defeat him. He even snatched the Time-Turner she had used from her.
"You will lose a part of your life." Corban Yaxley toyed with the Time-Turner, looking at her with regret. "Child, remember, those who intend to act recklessly in time will surely bear all the dire consequences."
"This is the helplessness and curse of a 'Time Explorer'."
"Perhaps one day I can teach you how to use a Time-Turner correctly, but definitely not now."
"If Voldemort discovers that our family is so skilled at using Time-Turners, he will surely order me to do some particularly dangerous things, which would absolutely lead to the downfall of our family. I cannot bring such disaster to the Yaxley family."
"Your journey ends here."
Madam Mary's face turned pale as she looked at the man before her, as if all answers had become clear.
Bang!
As Corban drew his wand and wantonly destroyed the Time-Turner before her, a terrifying temporal torrent swept over everything. She felt as if everything was spinning.
In the swirling vortex of time fragments, she seemed to see Professor Lockhart's figure, her own figure, and the figures of her mother, Corban, Voldemort, Harry, and others.
Then, everything exploded with a roar.
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