"I’m not leaving your side!"

Somehow, Abraxas had figured out a way to momentarily release the soul fragment from the notebook it was tied to!

In their conversation, it was clear that Abraxas had the upper hand in their relationship.

As they faced off, young Tom’s eyes flared bright red!

Ultimately, it was Abraxas who yielded first.

He firmly warned, "Stay away from Aurora!"

"What can I even do looking like this?"

Young Tom smiled wryly, his eyebrows knitting together.

He knew how to leverage his strengths to get what he wanted.

Abraxas softened, "Tom, I didn't mean it that way..."

"I know, always saying one thing and meaning another, Abraxas..."

Tom’s lips curved in a slight smile, his gaze tender as if Abraxas was still the cheeky young Malfoy lord.

"You just mentioned... Aurora can see you?"

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"Yes..." Young Tom seemed accustomed to Abraxas’s unpredictable thoughts.

"Her eyes, unlike Draco's, are always following me..."

Caught! They’ve definitely noticed!

Now that they know, it might actually be better to watch openly.

Otherwise, understanding their conversation could stir up even more trouble.

"Aurora?"

Abraxas held me closer, his concern evident.

Draco, feeling neglected, started to make cooing sounds.

"They're learning to compete for attention so young..."

Young Tom squatted down and gently tapped Draco’s plump cheeks.

"Who was it again that offered to help a moment ago?"

Abraxas muttered, clearly, Draco’s indirect way of speaking came from his grandfather.

"Draco needs a diaper change..."

Young Tom handled the baby expertly.

"I’ll just call the House-elf next time for these things..."

Abraxas was taken aback by how much the young man could handle.

"No worries, you know, every summer at the orphanage, I had to do this daily..."

Young Voldemort was a master at gaining sympathy!

Abraxas was completely taken in.

"Tom..." the man murmured, unsure how to comfort the boy.

"Abraxas, my time is short, the energy I managed to gather is fading fast..."

Young Tom’s figure began to dim.

"Would my blood be of any help?"

Abraxas bit his lip, deciding, then burst out.

"The Malfoy bloodline is special..."

Young Tom shook his head, smiling gently, yet politely refusing any assistance.

His power seemed to be on the verge of exhaustion, unable to speak further.

Who knows when he would awaken again.

His lips moved as if to say, "Abraxas, you know... I would never do anything to hurt you..."

"So unlike you... you’re such a selfish, cunning little devil... how can you still show this side..."

A tear slid down Abraxas’s pale cheek.

Later, I realized that this 16-year-old Voldemort, his retained shred of goodness, was his most precious gift.

A gift meant solely for Abraxas.