Tom Riddle was poised to launch into a heated retort upon hearing Wentworth’s words, but his protest was swiftly quashed as Wentworth seized the diary before him and relegated it to a heap of discarded items in the Room of Requirement.

Intent on returning it to the Alliance once the semester concluded, Wentworth harbored deep-seated disdain for anyone attempting to emulate Gellert Grindelwald, a sentiment shared by many older individuals.

With his task complete, Wentworth paid no heed to the seething Tom Riddle and promptly exited the Room of Requirement.

“Dark lord? Piece of trash like you need to know your position when talking with the descendant of the real one. How dare you even think of claiming Britain as your own spot in the wizarding world when you’re no stronger than a mere infant,” Wentworth muttered as he stormed away from the Room of Requirement, with a face expressing how annoyed he was after the encounter with Voldemort.

Unbeknownst to him, however, Ron emerged from the shadows of the corridor shortly after Wentworth’s departure.

Observing Wentworth’s empty-handed exit with a perplexed expression, Ron’s curiosity piqued, prompting him to investigate further, “What was senior Wentworth doing in here? Did something bad happen? I don’t even want to say my greetings to him due to how annoyed he looks.”

Venturing into the room, Ron couldn’t help but exclaim incredulously, “Good lord, what did Wentworth conjure up from the Room of Requirement this time? A rubbish heap?” His brow furrowed as he surveyed the cluttered space before him, pondering the purpose behind Wentworth’s peculiar request.

Just as Ron was on the verge of abandoning his search and departing, a faint whisper echoed within his heart, “I know your desires. I can make them come true…”

“Who?! Who’s there?!” Ron’s senses sharpened instantly as he brandished his wand, scanning his surroundings with heightened vigilance. Yet, inexplicably, an inner voice persisted, compelling Ron to press onward.

Unable to resist the urging in his heart, Ron cautiously ventured further into the Room of Requirement, stepping gingerly amidst the scattered debris.

Guided by the elusive call, he eventually laid eyes upon the diary resting before him, “Follow my voice, come closer…”

Upon closer inspection, Ron was certain that the quaint diary before him was the same one his “sister” had entrusted to Wentworth.

A sudden realization washed over Ron at that moment, sending shivers down his spine. “Merlin, what am I doing? Something’s not right, something feels…off! Have I been…controlled?”

As Ron grappled with his mounting dread, he found himself retreating slowly, clutching his wand tightly. Yet, just as panic began to set in, the voice resurfaced within his mind once more. “Are you willing?”

In an instant, memories of his childhood home, the Burrow, flooded Ron’s thoughts. He envisioned himself amidst the cherished relics of his past—the toys and clothes left behind by his brothers, each item a testament to the bond they shared.

“Willing to do what?!” Ron exclaimed as he held his head, trying to piece them together due to the splitting pain he suffered as the memories surged.

“Do my bidding… Anything you want shall be yours…” The voice continued whispering.

Immersed in his reminiscence, Ron’s simmering anger ignited, his eyes blazing with intensity as he unleashed a thunderous roar. “Enough! I don’t care who you are! My parents… they’ve given me the best they could! You have no right to speak ill of them!”

With his outburst, the flood of memories swirling in Ron’s mind abruptly shattered, leaving him momentarily relieved. But before he could fully collect himself, the haunting voice echoed once more, disrupting his peace.

“You, are you willing?” The voice repeats itself once again.

Caught off guard, Ron found himself ensnared once again in the labyrinth of memory.

“Get out of my head! I don’t care what you are. Just leave me alone!” Ron screamed, trying his best to fend off against the mental attack trying to pry further into his memories.

Recalling the unfamiliar face he had encountered on platform nine and three-quarters, Ron couldn’t shake the inexplicable draw he felt towards the newcomer—a magnetic pull drawing two kindred spirits together.

“At our first encounter at the station, the boy appeared in worn attire, his face cloaked in a timid haze. Though I had the comfort of my parents seeing me off, unlike him, I sought camaraderie by extending a friendly gesture upon boarding the train—a natural human inclination.”

“Little did I anticipate that this unassuming boy was none other than the renowned Harry Potter himself! On the train, he effortlessly parted with a few gold Galleons for snacks, a stark contrast to my scant few sandwiches. It was then I realized the disparity between us.”

“Upon arriving at Hogwarts, Harry Potter became the focal point wherever he treads. The professors and even the Headmaster showed a distinct interest in Harry, a sentiment I couldn’t help but perceive, even in my obliviousness.”

“And me? Somehow, I found myself relegated to the role of Harry’s sidekick, a mere afterthought in his shadow of fame. It felt as if I were purposefully tethered to Harry’s”.

“No, shut up! That’s not it! Harry has never treated me as a sidekick—we’re friends, best friends! Harry shares everything with me. We’re equals! Stop trying to voice my thoughts in a twisted way. Get out, get out, get out!”

The voice observed Ron clutching his head, his face contorted in pain as he shook his head repeatedly. Just then, the unsettling voice pierced Ron’s consciousness once more: “You, are you willing?”

This time, it wasn’t a memory that flooded Ron’s mind, but rather a scene that left him even more unsettled. In his mental projection, he saw himself and Harry as grown men, dressed in ill-fitting suits, standing outside an auditorium door.

As the auditorium bell chimed, music filled the air, accompanied by warm applause. Ron stood bewildered until Harry nudged him with his arm.

Following Harry’s gaze, Ron laid eyes on Hermione, radiant in a white wedding dress, appearing like a fairy as she walked down the aisle.

Ron felt a bit off after seeing the scene unfold before him. Seeing Hermione in that moment, Ron felt a rush of intoxication. But in the next instant, another figure materialized beside Hermione. Despite his altered appearance, Ron recognized Draco at once.

Ron observed Draco in his sleek suit, a stark contrast to the ill-fitting garment Ron wore. Draco appeared strikingly handsome and tall, his attire seemingly tailored to perfection.

As Draco and Hermione exchanged vows, their wedding unfolded amidst the music and applause that echoed through the church. Ron watched the spectacle before him in a daze, only snapping back to reality when Hermione and Draco approached him, arm in arm.

Draco proudly flaunted the gold Galleons he had lavishly spent on the wedding, while Hermione graciously thanked Harry for attending amidst his busy schedule. The gratitude expressed towards Harry and Draco felt distant to Ron as if he were a mere bystander amidst the well-dressed guests.

Feeling invisible and out of place, Ron couldn’t shake off the feeling of being overlooked by Hermione and Draco.

“You, are you willing?” The voice echoed once more, prompting Ron to speak with tears welling

up in his eyes: “I can’t accept this!”