Chapter 51
The atmosphere in the Chamber of Secrets was suffocating, the tension hanging in the air like a thick fog. Harry stood at the edge of the ancient chamber, Ginny lying unconscious at his feet, and the Basilisk coiling dangerously near her. Tom Riddle, now fully revealed as the manifestation of Voldemort’s younger self, stood opposite him, a sneer playing on his lips.
Harry’s pulse raced, his heart pounding in his chest. He knew that time was running out. Riddle’s dark power radiated from him, and the Basilisk, though it had recoiled earlier, now lurked, ready to strike. But there was something more. The creature still seemed to hesitate, wary of Harry, and that hesitation made all the difference.
“I’ve been waiting for this moment, Harry,” Riddle said, his voice smooth and chilling. “You’re nothing more than a pawn in my game. You were always meant to be.” His dark eyes gleamed with malicious delight. “But it ends here.”
Harry gripped his wand tighter, his knuckles white, the cold of the Chamber seeping into his bones. He could feel it—the dark magic swirling around him, tightening like a noose. But he wasn’t afraid. Not anymore.
“You’ve hurt enough people,” Harry said, his voice steady despite the turmoil inside him. “I won’t let you do this anymore.”
Riddle laughed, a cruel, high-pitched sound that echoed throughout the chamber. “You still don’t understand, do you? You’ve always been too weak. Too naïve.” His gaze flicked toward the Basilisk, and Harry saw the serpent’s eyes glint with an almost eerie anticipation. “The monster has always been my weapon. It will do as I command.”
The Basilisk hissed, its fangs gleaming, but it still held back. Its fear of Harry was evident—its giant form swaying uneasily, its massive body shifting like it couldn’t decide whether to strike or flee.
“Why won’t it obey?” Riddle muttered, his anger rising. “You—you should be terrified of me! I am Tom Riddle!”
But Harry wasn’t scared anymore. He had faced too many horrors, too much darkness, to be intimidated by someone like Riddle. With every moment that passed, the pull of the Chamber—the weight of the past—was beginning to lose its power over him.
Harry turned toward the Basilisk, the creature looming larger than life. Its eyes were still locked on him, but it didn’t strike. Not yet.
“Get out of my way, Basilisk,” Harry muttered under his breath, the words slipping from his mouth without thinking. His hand tightened around the hilt of Godric Gryffindor’s sword, which he had taken from the Sorting Hat earlier, the gleaming metal now shining in the dark.
Tom Riddle’s expression faltered for a moment. “What is this?” he hissed. “That sword...”
Harry didn’t answer. He couldn’t afford to waste words. The moment had come.
With one swift movement, Harry lunged toward the Basilisk, sword raised high. The creature let out a loud hiss of protest, but Harry didn’t hesitate. The sword plunged into the monster’s mouth, the fangs snapping at his face. Pain shot through his body as he felt the massive serpent’s tail whip through the air, narrowly missing him.
The Basilisk shrieked, a sound that echoed throughout the Chamber, but Harry held on. He twisted the sword, feeling the creature’s massive body convulse as the deadly poison inside it began to falter. The creature let out one final, tortured scream before collapsing in a heap on the stone floor.
The Basilisk was dead.
For a moment, there was silence—utter silence—as the lifeless body of the giant serpent lay in front of Harry. He was covered in its blood, but he didn’t care. His focus was on something far more important now.
Riddle.
“You’ve failed,” Harry said, turning toward Tom Riddle, who was standing with a look of disbelief on his face.
The young version of Voldemort snarled, his eyes flickering with rage. “No,” he growled. “It’s not over, Harry! I will never be defeated by you!”
But before he could move, Harry struck.
With a single flick of his wand, Harry sent a powerful curse toward Riddle, the spell landing with a deafening crack. Riddle let out a scream of agony as his form began to flicker and dissolve, his body unraveling like smoke in the wind.
“You’re nothing but a shadow,” Harry muttered, his voice barely a whisper. “And now you’re gone.”
Tom Riddle vanished completely, his presence no longer lingering in the Chamber. The magical manifestation of Voldemort’s younger self was destroyed—once and for all.
The silence that followed was heavy, like the world was holding its breath. Harry stood alone in the Chamber, the sword still clutched in his hand, the weight of what had just happened settling over him.
He walked back to Ginny’s side, his heart still pounding in his chest. She was breathing more steadily now, her life restored.
“Ginny,” Harry whispered, shaking her gently. “Ginny, it’s over.”
Her eyes fluttered open, and she looked up at him, confused and frightened.
“Harry?” she whispered, her voice weak. “What happened? What...what did you do?”
Harry didn’t know how to answer. The past few moments had been a blur, a mixture of terror and triumph. But one thing was certain: he had stopped Tom Riddle, saved Ginny, and ended the nightmare that had plagued Hogwarts.
For now, at least.