Into The Chamber
Harry stood before the sink in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, staring at the serpent engraving etched into the ancient tap. He had suspected for weeks, but the latest chilling message scrawled on the walls had left no doubt in his mind: “Her skeleton will lie in the Chamber forever.”
The sink slid aside, revealing the dark, gaping entrance to the Chamber of Secrets. Without hesitation, Harry slipped inside, sliding down the slimy stone pipe, his wand firmly gripped in his hand.
The descent was quiet, save for the echoes of water dripping around him. When he finally landed in the damp tunnel below, he began walking forward with purpose, his detached demeanor masking the faint thrill coursing through him.
Ginny’s pale form lay sprawled at the base of a towering statue in the chamber ahead. Harry crouched by her side and pressed two fingers to her neck. A faint but steady pulse met his touch, and he exhaled softly. She was alive.
“Remarkable, isn’t it?”
Harry’s head snapped up to see a boy, his features smooth and coldly handsome, standing a few feet away. Tom Riddle.
“You’re not real,” Harry said, his voice flat.
“Not yet,” Riddle corrected, smirking. “You, Harry Potter, brought me closer to life than anyone else ever has. Your memories, your words… They gave me strength.”
Harry rose to his feet, unfazed. His emerald eyes met Tom’s with the same sharp, unfeeling gaze he gave most people. “You’ve been trying to kill Ginny to come back, haven’t you?”
Tom’s smirk faltered for a moment. “You’ve pieced it together faster than I expected. Yes, draining the life from her gives me form.”
“Idiotic,” Harry said bluntly, cutting him off.
Riddle blinked. “Excuse me?”
“You’re tying yourself to a twelve-year-old girl who barely has enough energy to keep you corporeal. Inefficient.”
Tom stepped closer, his curiosity piqued. “And what would you suggest, Potter?”
Before Harry could respond, the low hiss of something massive echoed through the chamber. The Basilisk. Harry turned calmly as the monstrous serpent slithered into view, its yellow eyes shielded beneath translucent lids.
The creature hissed, and Harry hissed back in Parseltongue, his tone commanding but soft. “Calm. I’m not your enemy.”
The Basilisk froze, tilting its massive head toward Harry in clear confusion.
Tom’s eyes widened in shock. “You—you’re a Parselmouth?”
Harry ignored him, stroking the enormous snake’s scales. “Beautiful creature. They sent you here to die, didn’t they? Locked you away because they were afraid.”
The Basilisk let out a soft, sorrowful hiss, its body coiling loosely around the chamber.
“How can you—? I’ve never met another—” Tom began, his voice tight with disbelief.
Harry turned, his expression calm. “You didn’t think you were the only one, did you? Must have been lonely.”
Tom’s hands clenched at his sides, his shock giving way to irritation. “Enough. Do you even understand what you’re doing? That creature—”
“—is mine now,” Harry interrupted sharply. He turned fully to face Tom. “Let’s talk about your plan.”
Tom narrowed his eyes, his curiosity returning. “You think you can negotiate with me?”
“I think your current method is stupid,” Harry said flatly. “You want to come back to life, but tying yourself to Ginny is a short-term fix. You’ll burn her out. You need something better. Smarter.”
Tom’s expression shifted, torn between irritation and intrigue. “Go on.”
“Take me instead. Or better, find a Muggle to switch with,” Harry suggested. “You don’t need Ginny. Let her go, and I’ll help you find someone who can sustain you properly.”
Tom stared at him, his mind racing. Then, his lips curled into a sly smile. “You’re more cunning than I expected, Potter. Do you even know who you’re speaking to?”
Harry tilted his head, unbothered. “Tom Riddle, the sixteen-year-old memory of some former Hogwarts student.”
Tom chuckled darkly. “Not just a memory, Potter. Not just Tom Riddle. I am the greatest wizard of all time.”
With a flick of his wand, fiery letters appeared in the air:
TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE
And then the letters began to rearrange themselves, forming a new sentence:
I AM LORD VOLDEMORT
Harry’s expression didn’t change. “Impressive anagram. What do you want? A round of applause?”
Tom’s smile faltered for the briefest moment. “You’re not afraid of me?”
“Afraid?” Harry repeated. He placed a hand on the Basilisk’s side, its massive form curling protectively around him. “You’re just words in a diary. Until you’re more, you’re not a threat. Now, do we have a deal or not?”
For a moment, the chamber was silent, the flickering light casting eerie shadows. Finally, Tom inclined his head. “Let’s talk.”